THE LADY IN BLACK
“Forget the mask,” Sparky was saying. “We’ve got loads of gas. Dawn
will soon be here. We’ll stay five thousand feet. Go back and get a
little rest.”
Reluctantly she obeyed. Having wrapped herself in the eiderdown robe,
she fell fast asleep. But not for long. She awoke with a start from a
disturbing dream to find an eerie light shining down upon her.
“The ship’s on fire!” she thought tumbling out of her robe.
She sprang to a window to whisper, “We have met the dawn.”
It was true. The sun, a red disk, rolled along the horizon. The sea and
the sky were all ablaze with light.
“Sparky!” she exclaimed. “It’s wonderful!”
“Is it?” he asked sleepily. “Just another sunrise. That’s all it seems
to be. But look, Mary, you’ve been a peach. I suppose I should
apologize for being gruff with you back there when we were way up high.”
“Oh, no!” Mary exclaimed. “Don’t ever apologize. Your friends don’t
demand it, your enemies don’t deserve it. Besides I never quarrel with
people when they’re drunk.” A teasing smile played about the corners of
her mouth.
“Who’s been drunk?” He shot her a quick look. “You think I’m crazy? I’m
not a drinking man, but if I were, I’d be plain mad if I drank before a
trip like this.”
“Oh! So you weren’t drunk?” She threw back her head for a good laugh.
“You were all the same.”
“What!” Sparky seemed ready to leave the controls to crown her.
“Yes, you were drunk and so was I. I was happy and you were sad. That’s
how people get when they are drunk.”
“Say, are you crazy?”
“No, Sparky, I’m not.” She laughed again. “We were having an oxygen
drunk. It might have been dangerous. I realized the danger just in
time. Too much oxygen, too long, that’s all.”
“Too much oxygen, too long,” he repeated after her. “I’ve heard of that
happening but just think of an oldtimer like me getting caught with it!”
“The bigger they are the harder they fall.” She favored him with a good
laugh. “But it’s not really strange,” she added soberly. “Our trip,
this far, has been a hard one. You’ve worked long hours. You were too
tired to think. I was fresh. That made all the difference. And just for
that, how would you like to crawl back for a few winks?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He offered her the controls. “But promise me that
if anything unusual occurs, seaplanes show up, or anything like that,
you’ll call me.”
“I’ll call you,” she agreed.
Sparky’s sleep was long and peaceful. Never had Mary enjoyed herself
half so much as on that morning guiding the big ship through the blue
sky over a sea as dark and mysterious as death.
An hour passed, two, three hours. Sometimes she wondered in a vague
sort of way about their secret cargo. Would it go through safely and
would she be with the ship to its journey’s end? Just then none of
these things appeared to matter much. It was good to live. That, for
the moment, was enough.
There was a spring-like warmth in the air, and a faint fragrance as of
flowers. They were going against a mild off-shore breeze.
Once she spotted dark dots on the ocean far below. There were
twenty-four, a convoy. It must, she told herself, be an American
convoy. She wanted terribly to drop down low and dip a wing in salute
but, this, she knew, would never do. Some enemy sub might see that dip
and know that the convoy lay beneath her. They would close in and then—
No—it would never do, so she drove straight on toward the rising sun.
At last a long, low, gray-green cloud appeared on the horizon before
her. Or was it a cloud? Breathing softly she waited and watched. The
long, narrow line widened. It seemed to take form. Some spots were
higher, some strips greener than others. At last she whispered
excitedly:
“It’s land! Land! Africa! I’ll soon be abroad. The long hop is nearing
its end.” She wanted to shout for joy, to scream, but this she knew was
not expected of the co-pilot of a big ship so all she said was:
“Sparky! Sparky! Wake up! We’re nearing land, and I don’t know the way
to that secret airfield.”
“What—what?” Sparky groaned sleepily. “It can’t be land. I just
stretched out here a minute ago.”
“Yes, I know.” Mary laughed for sheer joy. “It’s land all the same. I
think I see a camel. Come and see.”
Sparky came forward rubbing his eyes. Adjusting his glasses he took a
good look.
“Can’t make out your camel,” he drawled, “but that white spot off to
the right is Dakar, all right. Good girl! You hit it right on the nose.
Give me the controls and I’ll have you eating fried camel steak and
dates before the hour is up.”
They did just that. Coming down on an airfield fringed with palms, they
were given a cordial greeting by a dozen good American soldiers. To a
man, they stared at Mary, then grinning, saluted.
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[Illustration: _Soldiers Greeted Them at the Secret Airfield_]
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“Jeepers, boys!” one of them exclaimed. “An honest-to-goodness lady of
the Ferry Command.”
“If they all come like this one, make ’em all ladies from now on,” his
buddy chipped in.
“It’s nice to see you all.” Mary put on her best smile. “I only wish I
could be with you for a week.”
“Make it two! Make it for the duration!” came in a chorus.
“Two hours,” was Sparky’s pronouncement. “Give our ship the once-over,
will you, while we motor in for some chow?”
“Oh, sure, we’ll fix her up fine,” a big sergeant grinned. “But you’ll
have to do your own searching for stowaways.”
“And be sure you look well!” the lieutenant in charge added. “I’m
short-handed. Can’t spare a man.”
An army jeep appeared and they were whisked away to a small city of
low, white buildings, gleaming streets, and many camels.
“My!” Mary exclaimed. “It’s hot!”
“Sure!” said Sparky. “This is Africa.”
“The scene shifts so fast I can’t keep up,” Mary said, fanning herself.
“It won’t be bad in here,” said Sparky, motioning her to enter a long,
low eating place. “It’s more than half American, patronized mostly by
our people. They run a sort of concession and get real food supplies
from America.”
The place was all open screened windows. There was a breeze from the
sea. The food was good, even to the coffee.
“Just think of taking off in two hours!” Mary exclaimed. “I’d like to
make it two weeks.”
“Sure,” Sparky grinned. “Great place for a gal. Hundred American
soldiers to pick from.”
“Sparky! Forget it!” She was half inclined to be angry. “What I mean
is, I’d like really to see these places we visit, not go to it
hop-skip-jump. It—it seems such a waste.”
“That’s right,” Sparky agreed. “After the war we’ll do it all
over—take a whole year for it.”
“Will we?” she asked.
“Who knows?” He spoke slowly. “We may be dead. This is war.”
Sparky hurried through the meal, then excused himself. “Gotta see about
our papers,” he explained. “Be back in 'bout half an hour. Get yourself
another cup of java and wait here in the shade.”
Hardly had Sparky disappeared when a tall, distinguished-looking young
woman entered. She was dressed in a striking manner, all in black, yet
it was not the black of mourning for she wore much bright costume
jewelry.
The place was fairly empty, a native couple in one corner and two
doughboys in another.
“Do you mind?” The woman indicated the chair Sparky had left. “One sees
so few women here.”
Mary did not mind. The woman, who spoke with a French accent, took a
seat, then ordered cakes and sour wine.
“You are from America?” the woman suggested. Mary nodded.
“A lady soldier?” Mary shook her head.
“But your uniform?”
“In America many women wear uniforms. We like them.” Mary smiled. “I
happen to be a member of the Ferry Command.”
“And you flew a big plane all the way! How wonderful! Shall there be
many more of you?”
“No—I—” Mary broke off. She had been about to say, “I may be the only
one. Mine is a special mission.”
“What a fool I am,” she thought.
“I came for the ride really,” she said, covering up deftly. “My father
is over here somewhere.”
“Ah! You brave Americans!” the woman exclaimed. “They saved my country,
France, in the last war and now—”
“Now you expect us to do it again,” Mary wanted to say. “And over here
you are divided. You don’t really know what you want.”
She did not say this, nor did the woman finish, for at that moment a
bright-eyed young woman in khaki entered the place and walked straight
to their table to ask:
“Are you Mary Mason?”
“Yes.” Mary stood up.
“I’ve been asked to speak to you—that, that is I have a message for
you.” The girl seemed embarrassed. “Perhaps—”
“No! No!” The French woman was on her feet. “I have urgent business. I
was about to go. It is good to have seen you—” She bowed to Mary and
was gone.
“Will you forgive me.” The girl in khaki dropped into a seat. “I just
had to do it. I never saw that woman before. She may be all right. You
never know. Over here half the people are for us, the other half
against. You dare trust no one. You didn’t—” She hesitated.
“I didn’t tell her a thing worth knowing.” Mary smiled. “Will you have
a cup of coffee?”
“Oh, sure!” The other girl’s face beamed. “Real American girls are so
rare here.”
“You are a WAC?” Mary suggested.
“Yes, of course. There are very few of us here now, but there will be
more and more.” Her voice dropped. “That’s the sort of things they want
to know,” she confided in a whisper.
They talked, sipped coffee, and munched cakes until Sparky hurried into
the place.
“All set!” he exclaimed. “Our outfit is still far ahead of us. Got to
get going.”
After Mary had introduced Lucy Merriman, the WAC, they were on their
way.
“I’ll be seeing you,” Mary called back. Then she added in an undertone,
“I wonder.”
As she climbed into the car, she caught a glimpse of the tall French
woman. She was talking to a small man with a round face.
“That’s a queer-looking pair,” said Sparky. “Lady of quality and a
beggar Arab.”
“He looks like a Jap,” Mary gave the fellow a sharp look. She would
know him if she saw him again. “Besides,” she added, “he can’t be quite
a beggar. He’s got a camel.”
“You meet all types here,” Sparky replied absently. “It’s the strangest
country you ever may hope to see. We’ve sure got to watch our step. By
rights we should fly square across the desert. But with our cargo,” his
voice dropped, “it’s too risky.”
“So we’ll go northeast?” Mary suggested.
“That’s right.”
“That takes us into fighting country?”
“Yes—sort of—”
The car started, returning them to the airfield.
“There’s a secret airport, on an oasis,” Sparky told Mary. “That’ll be
our first stop. After that we hit Egypt and another secret spot. Egypt
is safe enough. It’s those miles in between.” His brow wrinkled in a
frown. “But we’ll make it.”
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