OFF FOR PANAMA
That same afternoon Mr. Giddings called upon his business rival, Mr.
Wrenn, of the _Clarion_, and presented to him the tentative program for
the great race around the world's girdle, as the _Daily Independent_
had planned it. Mr. Wrenn declared that he was willing to stand by his
former agreement to allow the _Independent_ to select the route, and
said it was entirely satisfactory to him, and that he would at once
take steps to have fuel supplies on hand at the various airports for
his crew when they should arrive. He made no comments as to his own
airplane, but agreed that the advertising plan his caller had worked
out was a capital one, stating that he would co-operate heartily with
him in carrying it to a successful conclusion.
Mr. Giddings was considerably surprised that Mr. Wrenn made no
objection to the longest "hops" on the route, which were of greater
extent than the average airplane could make, and was ready to modify
the arrangement if there had been any objection. But even when he
particularly called this matter to the other publisher's attention, Mr.
Wrenn only smiled serenely, saying, "Those hops are perfectly
satisfactory to us," leaving Mr. Giddings with a deep wonderment as to
what sort of aircraft the _Clarion_ proposed using.
"I am under the impression that our contemporary has something up his
sleeve, but I cannot conceive what it can be," Mr. Giddings confided to
his son that evening upon reaching home; and when Bob repeated this to
the Ross boys and Tom Meeks next day, they too began to wonder more
than ever what type of an airplane the _Clarion_ proposed using against
them, and who the crew might be.
"Did your father and Mr. Wrenn decide upon a date for the start?" asked
Paul.
"Yes," replied Bob; "they made it the 20th of July, this summer,
weather permitting. We start from Panama at one o'clock in the
afternoon."
"Our curiosity as to the identity of our competitors will be satisfied
then, at least," laughed John.
"And their curiosity, too!" put in Tom. "I'll stake my last cent
they're just as much in the dark about us and the Sky-Bird II as we are
about their outfit."
"We'll hope so, anyhow," remarked Bob; "but ever since we had those
blue-prints stolen, and found we had a stranger sneaking around the
hangar, I've been uneasy."
At this reference, all the young men felt a strange oppression. They
had talked over it more than once, and each time it had left them with
a sense of peril to their interests, why they could not tell. As
before, they now tried to laugh it off, and began to talk about other
subjects.
There was still considerable to do in the way of preparing the Sky-Bird
and themselves for the long trip, and for weeks all four boys were kept
hustling to make the final installations of accessories and equipment.
Bob rigged up a wireless telegraph in connection with his telephone
set, and for protection, four good repeating rifles and an automatic
shotgun were put in racks in the after-cabin, while each fellow
provided himself with an automatic revolver which he would carry in a
holster attached to a belt. Medium-weight flying suits, with a heavy,
wool-lined coat to slip on in case they flew very high, and trim flying
boots and soft gloves, made up the personal toggery.
Whenever the boys found a chance they went to the public library and
absorbed all the knowledge they could about the countries over which
they would pass and the places at which they were destined to stop. By
writing to the authorities in these localities, Mr. Giddings also
secured much valuable information for them as to present weather
conditions and landing-fields--information which was further
supplemented by numerous special airway maps supplied by the Aero Club
of America and similar aviation organizations in foreign countries.
From these maps Paul worked out a very clear chart of their own course
from beginning to end. A copy was given to each of the newspaper
publishers concerned, to reproduce on their large electric street
boards, and another was framed and placed immediately in front of the
pilot's seat in the cabin of the Sky-Bird II.
All this time the columns of the _Daily Independent_ and the _Clarion_
contained frequent vivid references to features of the trip calculated
to awaken the interest of the public, and as the time slipped along
into July, the attention of people all over the land was centered upon
the forthcoming contest, and it became the principal subject for
comment. The secrecy maintained by both principals as to the kind of
aircraft to be used, and the mystery as to identity of the members of
the respective crews, only whetted curiosity and interest the more, as
the sharp newspaper men knew it would. Every man, woman, and child in
the wide world seemed to be eagerly waiting for the moment to come when
he or she would see the promised pictures of the bold aviators and
their machines in the big newspapers, and hear that they had made their
first jump eastward from Panama.
All being in readiness, at daybreak on the morning of July 16th the
Ross boys and Tom Meeks appeared at the Sky-Bird's hangar, and pushed
the airplane outside. As they were doing so, Mr. Giddings and Bob
joined them. The publisher had planned to accompany his crew to Panama
in the machine, to see them officially off, while his reporters made
the journey by train, in company with the writing force of the rival
paper.
"We'll keep the time of our going secret, leaving before people are
generally up," Mr. Giddings had said to the boys; "and by going on the
16th we'll not only be ahead of their smart calculations, but we shall
have about half a week to rest up and see the country down there before
you begin your strenuous journey. I need a little vacation anyway, so
I will accompany you. We will stop off at Miami on the way, and enjoy
some big-game fishing in the Florida waters with some of my friends."
So the young men were very much excited and eager to be off this
morning of the 16th, you may be sure. The Sky-Bird was tuned up a
little to make certain she was in first-class condition, then they all
climbed in and the big glistening creature of wood, metal, and silk
shot up into the air. It would probably be close to three weeks before
they would see that familiar field and hangar again, and in that time
if all went well they would circle the huge globe upon which they and
their fellow-men lived. It was truly a most inspiring thought--one to
have filled less phlegmatic blood than theirs with the wildest
pulsations!
The weather was not at all promising, masses of gray nimbus-cloud
threatening to shut out the sun as it arose, with a promise of
uncertain winds, if not rain; but John and Tom declared the conditions
all the better for giving the machine a good test-out.
They climbed slowly upward through the cheerless, mist-laden skies, the
engine well throttled back and running as smoothly as any engine could.
To make sure that all was in perfect working order, they circled for
ten minutes over the town, trying the different controls, then turned
the Sky-Bird southward.
At two thousand feet they suddenly emerged from the fog belt into
brilliant sunshine, but the world below was lost to sight, screened by
a dense pall of mist. Accordingly, Tom Meeks, who was acting as pilot,
set a compass course for Cape Hatteras, the first guide-post along the
Atlantic coast, some five hundred miles distant. After an hour's
steady running, John took the throttle, followed later by Bob, and
finally Paul. It was a new sensation to the last-named youths to be
piloting the airplane out of view of the earth's surface, relying
solely for safety and position upon the compass and altimeter, and
knowing that somewhere far below them swept the rolling billows of the
ocean; but they enjoyed it immensely.
Finally, just as John declared they ought to be close to their
objective, the winds freshened and made a great rift in the fog below
them, through which they could plainly see the grand old Carolina
coast-line a little way ahead and to their right. Between the main
shore and the long spine-like series of reefs constituting the cape
itself, sparkled the waters of numerous sounds, while the
weather-beaten lighthouse on the extreme elbow of Hatteras stood out
like a stick of white chalk against the rocky gray background of its
support.
All were delighted with the accuracy with which they had made their
first guide-post, as John and Mr. Giddings checked their bearings on
the chart. The Sky-Bird had behaved splendidly so far, and if she
continued in that way they ought to reach their destination well before
nightfall, even at the reduced speed at which they had been flying,
which had averaged not much more than a hundred miles an hour.
It now became a question whether they should leisurely follow along the
inwardly curving coast-line, taking in Savannah, Charleston, and
Jacksonville, as guide-posts, or save a hundred miles or more by flying
straight across the waters to Miami. As they wished to test out each
member's ability to operate by compass rather than by landmarks, it was
decided to take the shorter route. So gradually they left the rugged
American shore behind and swept farther and farther out to sea.
The Sky-Bird II was flying as steady as a rock. All the bracing wires
were tuned to a nicety, the wind humming through them and along the
smooth sides of the great creature's body with a whistling monotone
which arose and fell with bewitching rhythm as the force fluctuated.
The varnish and fire-proofing compound glistened brightly in the
sunshine, attracting the attention of numerous seabirds, mostly gulls
and ospreys, which followed them at times for short distances, only to
be outdistanced. The engine was running at less than half its possible
speed, and purring like a contented kitten after a meal of fresh milk.
The clouds and fog had cleared away; the sky was as bright now as a sky
ever gets; far beneath, the blue-green waters of the Atlantic, flecked
with white-topped waves, spread on all sides. Two torpedo-boats,
looking like toys, went northward, and tiny white waving specks showed
that the Jacks aboard were waving a salute to them. Off seaward a
black trailing blot against the horizon showed where some unseen
steamship plowed her way between ports. Mr. Giddings and the boys were
filled with admiration.
A small airplane is ideal for short flights, joyriding the heavens, or
sight-seeing among the clouds; but there is something more majestic and
stable about a big machine like the Sky-Bird II which a pilot soon
begins to love with a passion he never feels toward the little 'plane.
An exquisite community of spirit grows up between machine and pilot;
each, as it were, merges into the vitals of the other. The levers and
controls are the nervous system of the airplane, through which the will
of the aviator may be expressed--expressed in an infinitely fine
degree. Indeed, a flying-machine is something entirely apart from and
above all other contrivances of man's ingenuity. It is the nearest
thing to animate life which man has created. In the air an airplane
ceases to be a mere piece of dumb mechanism; it seems to throb with
feeling, and is capable not only of primary guidance and control, but
actually of expressing a pilot's temperament.
The lungs of the machine--its engines--are the crux of man's mechanical
wisdom and skill. Their marvelous reliability and intricacy are almost
as awesome as the human anatomy. When both engines are going well, and
synchronized to the same speed, the roar of the exhausts develops into
one long-sustained and not inharmonious _boom-m-m-m-m!_ It is a song
of pleasant melody to the pilot, whose ear is ever pricked to catch the
first semblance of a "sharp" or "flat" note telling him that one or
more of the twelve cylinders of each busy engine is missing fire and
needs a little doctoring.
It was about four o'clock that afternoon when our party first sighted
the low, out-jutting sea-coast of Florida. As they came slowly toward
it, by reason of their angular course of approach, they could gradually
make out a group of green palms here and there along the white
stretches of sand, and see clusters of light-colored buildings, piers,
shipping, and people moving about. Thus they passed Juno and Palm
Beach, and then saw the thicker cluster of fine dwellings of Miami
itself, the most southerly city on the Florida mainland.
Paul was guiding the Sky-Bird at this time, and turned her across the
limpid waters of Biscayne Bay, cutting a huge circle above the town and
slowly swooping downward toward the broad white beach, as he picked out
a level stretch for landing. Townspeople who had been watching the
strange airplane, so much like a great bird, now ran forward to see it
land.
A moment later, with a graceful drop and upward curve, it struck the
sandy beach and ran forward lightly until the brakes were applied and
it was brought to a standstill.