ST. ELMO’S FIRE
“If there are mountains about it’s always best to climb.” Sparky set
his plane to reach higher altitudes. When at last he felt the push of
strong winds behind him he said:
“The storm took us over the mountains all right.”
“That’s something to be thankful for,” said Mary.
“Yes, but we’re still more or less lost.”
This, they discovered, was truer than they had thought, for the cold or
the push and bang of the storm had damaged their radio. Try as she
might, Mary could raise no one.
For a time, flying by instrument, Sparky flew across what he hoped was
low, level land. Since he could not be sure of this, he still flew high
among the thick clouds.
When at last, in desperation, he dropped lower and lower until they
were dangerously close to the earth, they found themselves still in a
dense formation of clouds.
“Where are we?” Mary asked.
“Somewhere over China.”
“The part held by our own people or by the enemy?”
“There is no sure way to know. Here, take the ship. Let me at that
radio. We’ve just got to get it going.”
Whether this was a “must” or not did not appear to matter. The radio
was dead and apparently would remain so.
To make matters worse the shadows within the plane grew darker with
every passing moment.
“Night,” Mary thought. “Night over a strange land.”
Night settled down and still they cruised on. From time to time, they
came down close to earth, often too close, in the hope of finding a
break in the clouds, of spotting a landing beacon. No break was found,
no light appeared.
“Our position is growing desperate,” Sparky said at last. “Our fuel is
running low. In less than a half hour we’ll be obliged to make a blind
landing and that, well—you know—”
Yes, Mary knew. There was no need for her to answer.
“I think I’d better get the ship aloft then let the rest of you take to
parachutes.” Sparky’s voice was husky. “For better or worse, this looks
like journey’s end.”
“Yes—yes, I guess you’d better let Hop Sing use his parachute. It will
be safer for him.”
“Yes, and for you.”
“Not so much better, Sparky, perhaps much worse for me if we’re over
enemy territory. I’m staying with the ship.”
“Okay. It’s your life. I can’t live it for you.”
For a little time they were silent. “About time to do a little
climbing.” Sparky shifted his controls.
“Sparky! What was that?” Mary cried sharply.
“What was what?”
“A light!”
“I didn’t see any light.”
“Yes, there! No, now it’s gone! Yes! Yes, there it is! By the nose of
the plane!”
“Yes, I saw it!” Sparky seemed unimpressed.
“But look, Sparky!” she exclaimed. “Look at the radio antennae. They’re
like neon tubes! They, they’re burning up! Sparky! What’s going to
happen? Is the ship on fire?”
“Not so you can notice it.”
“But, Sparky! Look! There’s a ball of fire on the ship’s nose—big as a
Fourth of July balloon.
“No—no! Now it’s gone! But, look! There’s a flash right across the
propeller blades!
“Say! We can begin to see things!” she was fairly beside herself. “I
just saw a house and a clump of trees.”
“The clouds are lifting,” said Sparky. “There may be a chance—”
“Yes—there’s a road. It’s broad and white, must be cement.” Mary
grabbed Sparky’s arm. “Sparky! we’re going to be safe. We’ve been saved
by some kind of miracle!”
“Miracle, my eye!” Sparky grumbled, as he set his ship for a try at
landing on that road. “If I don’t hit it right on the beam,” he said
grimly, “we’ll crash and that means like as not that this whole trip
has been made for nothing.”
“No, not for nothing. Don’t forget, there’s the quinine!”
With balls of fire rolling all over the plane and with their landing
lights on for a space of seconds, they hit that hard road, bounced, hit
again and again, then began to glide. Just before the ship came to a
stop, the right wheel left the road to bury itself in soft mud.
“Nice thing to do at the very end!” Sparky growled. “If we’re in enemy
territory we’re in a bad way!” Snapping off the lights, he headed for
the door.
All the strange, rolling balls of light were gone. About them it was
dark as a subway when the lights are off.
“Sparky,” Mary insisted as her feet hit the pavement, “it was a
miracle! You don’t dare say it wasn’t!”
“Oh! Can’t I!” Sparky squeezed her arm. “At least I’m bound to try.
That, my dear Mary, was what they call St. Elmo’s Fire.”
“St. Elmo’s Fire!”
“Sure! It’s a form of electrical disturbance. I picked it up once when
I was half way across the Atlantic. The scientists say it’s harmless.
Probably they’re partly right, but I claim that a thing that scares you
to death can’t be entirely harmless.
“And now,” he added, “since we’ve put one more ghost to rest, let’s
find out where we are.”
“Hop Sing,” he called.
“Right here, Mr. Sparky.”
“Hop Sing, this is your country, China. Where are we?”
“Can’t tell—me. I go see. Mebby quick find somebody who live here,
then quick find out.”
The stump-stump of Hop Sing’s crutch faded into the distance. After
that, by the plane, for quite some time there was silence.
“Sparky, I’m tired,” Mary said at last. “I hope we can get to the end
of our trip soon.”
“Don’t hope too much,” he cautioned. “We wandered about in the sky a
long time and that storm may really have taken us places before it let
us down.”
The darkness was something to brood about. The big plane loomed like a
shadow above them. It seemed a long time before they again heard the
stump-stump of Hop Sing’s crutch. As it came closer Mary became
conscious of another sound. It was like the wind rustling through dry
leaves. Or was it a shuffling sound?
Before she knew it she found herself surrounded by silent, shadowy
forms and Hop Sing was talking in a hoarse whisper to Sparky.
Hop Sing’s report was both astonishing and terrifying. They were twenty
miles behind the Jap lines. The road on which they had landed ran
parallel to the lines. That was why on a dark night like this there was
no traffic. Men, ammunition and supplies going to the front traveled a
road, some fifteen miles away, a road that crossed this one.
The shadowy forms about them were Chinese, men, women, and children.
These astonishing people had hidden in the mountains until the battle
lines had swept over them. Now, still hiding in holes and cellars, they
were back near their homes.
“Most surprising of all,” Sparky whispered to Mary, “a half mile down
this road, and off to one side, there is a small airfield.”
“An airfield! Didn’t the Japs destroy it? Or do they use it?”
“Neither. They know nothing about it. It’s a turnip patch, just now.”
“A turnip patch!”
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[Illustration: _Hop Sing’s Report Was Terrifying_]
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“Sure. These Chinese are smart. This airfield has always been a secret
one. Before the Japs came, they kept it covered with nets and burlap
that made it look like plowed ground. They only used it at night for
refueling.”
“Fuel, that’s what we need!”
“Yes, and it’s there.” Sparky spoke rapidly. “It’s in a hidden
underground room, two drums of it.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Nothing. These people, like gremlins, gnomes, or something, are going
to do it for us. They’ll get the plane back on the road. That’s what
they’re doing now.” The plane gave a sudden lurch.
“And then?”
“Then some of them will pull and push the plane down the road while the
women and children remove enough turnips and earth from the airfield to
make us a runway.”
“And then we’ll fuel up and take off. How sweet!”
“Yes, if the Japs don’t come. Our journey’s end is only two hundred
miles away.”
“And if the Japs come?”
“We’ll fight. These Chinese have arms. We’ve got two machine guns.
We’ll put up a good scrap.” The big plane with its precious cargo
tilted back to the road bed. Then, slowly, yard by yard it rolled down
the half mile to the airfield.
There, by the sense of touch alone, since no lights could be allowed,
Sparky felt his way across the prepared runway, and Mary supervised the
refueling of the plane, and all the time, Hop Sing was pouring into her
ears stories of his people’s courage and heroism.
“Oh!” she breathed at last. “I do hope we can make it. I don’t know
what it’s all about but I do know that it will mean a great deal to
these noble, fighting Chinese.”
At last all was ready.
With the aid of a very faint light Sparky and Mary went through the
business of getting the ship going. At last Sparky gave an order to Hop
Sing. Hop Sing passed it to those on the ground. The motors thundered
and:
“Up!” Mary exclaimed. “We’re in the air again!”
“That’s not all,” Sparky added happily. “The air is clearing and we
have gas to carry us to our objective.”
They reached it before the hour was up. Recognizing the roar of their
plane, a member of the bomber squadron’s crew sent up a small plane to
guide them in.
“Ah! At last you’re here,” shouted a voice. The bomber squadron’s
flight commander pulled himself into their cabin. “We’ll have men here
in a moment to take off your cargo. It is of vital importance. That’s
all I can tell you now.”
“Me,” said Mary, “all I want is sleep.”
“There’s a car waiting for you right now. It will take you to the
city’s best little hotel which is not a quarter of an hour away.”
Mary fell asleep in the car. She roused herself long enough to reach
her room and undress. Then she traded the world of harsh realities for
one of pleasant dreams.
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