THE TEAR-BOMB ATTACK
It was certainly a thrilling moment for Perk as he crouched there in his
awkward cubicle back of the pilot and waited for the proper second to
arrive when his accuracy at throwing the bombs would be tested.
Jack meanwhile had his hands full attending to his part of the
business--it was of course of prime importance that they should drop
down as close to the deck of the schooner as possible so the full effect
of the bursting tear-bombs might be felt by those struggling smugglers
and hijackers, but there was the mast of the cruising vessel to bear in
mind since it towers many feet in the air.
To strike this spar would entail danger of a crash, or having their
landing-gear torn away, which would prove a disaster. Consequently Jack
held himself in readiness to once more start his engine when
sufficiently near the object of his attack.
Perk knew just when their downward velocity terminated, for not only
were they again on a level keel, but the motor commenced working with
its customary intensity and the whole fusilage quivered as usual when
they were under way.
All this had consumed mere fragments of a minute and Perk had already
drawn back his hand to make ready for his first toss. It was his
intention to follow this up with a second bomb, hurled in double-quick
order, for a dual fire would make the results more complete.
Jack left it completely to his comrade to decide just when to let fly,
relying on the lessons Perk had taken along those lines in order to make
himself as near perfect as possible. If it so chanced that their initial
attack turned out to be futile, it was always possible for the fighting
airship to swing around so as to permit a second attempt.
Much would depend on just how those who were struggling like mad wolves
on the deck of the schooner to gain or retain possession of the spoils
took the attack from the air. Jack rather fancied they would be panic
stricken at having a grim spectre of the skies descend on them like a
plunging eagle and before they could possibly recover sufficient energy
to strike back, the monster roc must have winged past, and the pungent
gas started to affect their eyes, rendering them frantic with a
threatened temporary blindness.
Then Perk began his share of the vicious attack. He followed out his
prearranged programme with machine-like movements, sending his first
bomb with such cleverness that it struck close to the stern, for Jack
had made his hawk-like swoop so as to pass completely along the entire
length of the deck--this in order to give his working pal a better
chance to fulfill his assignment.
Even before that missile struck, Perk had instantly changed the other
bomb to his eager right hand and in a rapid-fire way sent it, too,
hurtling downward, to crash further on close to the bow.
Then they were speeding into space beyond the bowsprit of the anchored
rum-runner, with Jack starting to climb in order to bank and swing
around, so as to complete the job if his first endeavor lacked in any
detail.
Lucky indeed for the two aviators that they had their goggles on, else
they too might have suffered from the fumes that so quickly spread in
every direction as though fanned by the night breeze. Perk afterwards
admitted that he had caught a whiff of the penetrating gas despite the
covering helmet and close-fitting goggles but thanks to the haste with
which Jack carried their ship past, the gas had little or no effect.
The clamor still continued, if anything, redoubled, for now the element
of fear had gripped the hearts of every man on board both boats as they
felt that terrible, unseen agency stabbing at their eyes and making the
stoutest writhe with agony and alarm, thinking they must be doomed.
Jack could easily comprehend why they should be demoralized under the
prevailing conditions--there had been enough excitement in the air to
start with when the hijacker crowd boarded the rum-runner and joined
issues with the crews of the two allied boats but when from out of the
skies there descended a swooping monster, apparently about to fall upon
them as might a stray meteor from unlimited space in the firmament, and
that strange, racking pain gripped their eyes, nothing but panic could
describe their condition with any degree of accuracy.
But one element was now lacking in the dreadful turmoil--Perk could no
longer detect the quick percussion of blows, as fists and clubbed
firearms clashed against human bodies backed by a fierce anger that had
been fanned into a blaze by injuries received and a sense of impending
victory, with the spoils in sight.
Apparently every man among them was thinking of nothing save his own
individual sufferings and terror--unable to see with any degree of
certainty, they must be staggering this way and that, colliding with
each other and then one by one either falling into the water or else
jumping aboard the speedboat so conveniently nearby.
Jack had by this time brought the ship around again so as to head into
the wind as before. Perk, divining that this meant a second slash at the
mob on the sloop's deck reached out for another relay of missiles. Now
that he had got started he was in prime condition to "keep the ball
rolling" until there did not remain a single hijacker or smuggler aboard
the rum-runner.
But Jack, more inclined to pity than the former war ace, did not make
that second dip--he had a good idea the punishment thus dealt out with
their initial swoop would be severe enough to clear the deck and set the
late rival forces to quitting the vicinity of the ill smelling sloop
with the utmost speed, regardless of the means employed to accomplish
such a retreat while the going held good.
Perk could hear splash after splash, as though the frenzied sufferers in
their agony had been seized with the possibility of cooling water being
a sovereign remedy for the ills that had so suddenly gripped their
aching eyeballs.
Perk was chuckling to himself, even as he continued to crouch there, and
held a third tear bomb ready for instant use when Jack was pleased to
give him a fitting opportunity to throw it.
"Zowie!" he was telling himself, "if that don't make me think o' the
times when us boys lined up on a dock and made the dive, one right after
another--plunk--plunk--plunk! Go to it, you terriers--swim for the
shore, boys, and good luck to you all. Our job'll be to pick up the
rum-boat with her juicy cargo, an' hand her over to some Government
official Jack knows about around these diggings. High--low--Jack an' the
smugglin' game--that spells the hull thing I kinder guess!"
Perk was by no means so lacking in sagacity not to understand just why
his comrade was hanging fire and keeping at a respectful distance from
the sloop. He wished sufficient time to elapse so that most of the
penetrating gas from the tear bombs would be carried off on the night
wind and it might be reckoned safe for them to go aboard.
He could vision the terrified hijackers after their speedy plunge
overboard managing to find their several boats and dragging themselves
over the gunwales with but one thought in their bewildered minds, and
that to put as much distance between themselves and the rum-runner as
possible.
He even told himself he could catch the sound of splashing and oars
working madly in the locks, although this may have been only imagination
on Perk's part, but for one thing, he did glimpse a moving light and
could detect a chugging movement such as would accompany the inglorious
flight of the speedboat, racing for some shore harbor.
Silence followed, as though all the human elements in that late wild
tumult had managed to leave the scene of their defeat. Still Jack
continued to swing around in a short circle, showing how even with the
spoils of victory close within their reach he could keep to his standard
maxim of "watch your step!"
Minutes passed, and it went without question that the penetrating gas
must be well swept away by the night wind so that it would be safe for
them to board their prize and take a quick inventory of the illicit
cargo.
Perk knew the time for action had arrived when he felt the plane head
toward the surface of the gulf, as though it was Jack's intention to
drop just back of the sloop's stern when they could taxi alongside and
readily climb to the low deck.
There was nothing surprising about their coming in contact with the
surface of the water--Jack had acquired a habit of making perfect
landings whether ashore or with pontoons. Knowing this, Perk never
looked for anything else.
They came down with hardly any more of a splash than a pelican might
have made and almost instantly Jack started taxiing ahead in the
direction of the nearby anchored sloop.
Perk had set the third tear-bomb down with the belief that there would
be no necessity for his using it. Silence hung about the sloop, and he
had decided there could be no one around, unless, when they clambered
over the side, they should discover some poor chap who had succumbed to
the provoking gas or else been stunned by a blow in the wild melee that
had raged previously.
Just the same wise old Perk did not mean to be caught off his guard and
so he dragged out a formidable looking automatic, supplied by the Secret
Service to all its accredited agents as a means for compelling a
surrender on the part of any "wanted man" when overtaken in his flight.
The head-phones had been disconnected so there was nothing to hinder a
prompt boarding of the captured boat when Jack gave the word. With the
glorious flush of victory thrilling his whole frame Perk stood by to
fend off as they drew close to the squatty stern. It would be his duty
to clamber out on one wing and get aboard, carrying a rope by means of
which the floating airship could be secured to the water craft.
This he managed to accomplish without much difficulty, wondering while
so doing whether he and Jack might not be making history, for he
suspected that never before in the annals of aviation had an amphibian
plane been afforded a chance to take a prize of war in such an original
fashion as bombarding the enemy crew with tear-gas bombs and causing
them to flee in mad haste.
It was an exultant Perk who stood erect on the deck and waved his flying
helmet with the proud air of a neophyte hunter planting his foot on the
body of his first slain lion or tiger.