CHAPTER XI In the Teeth of a Hurricane

Even with the present practicability of the aeroplane, equipped with every known invention and device for expediting and safeguarding flights, a Transatlantic air voyage is something not to be regarded lightly, nor indeed to be undertaken at all, except by the hardiest and most courageous of men, endowed with a supreme fatalism and an all-enduring self-confidence.

With the fall of darkness, just as had been expected and reported by the Secret Service operatives who were watching the rapidly-unfolding developments there, the enemy plane, equally as well equipped and perhaps as powerful as the other, had put off in pursuit only a few minutes after the wireless went out from Washington in warning of that expected eventuality.

And quickly following the enemy departure had gone another radio, informing the leading plane of that fact. The message had been received, and indeed a reply had been sent; but it had dissipated itself in the air and had never reached the delicately-tuned instrument at which an operator sat breathless, seeking to catch the faintest sound wave.

Why had not the pursuing plane been stopped? The answer was clear. It was on Canadian soil. To have even attempted to intercept her would have entailed an almost endless and detailed explanation to the Canadian authorities, and this in turn would have required a full revelation of the lengths to which the American Government was going to maintain world stability of peace.

Even in the interim the plane probably would have departed, but at any rate all these considerations had been weighed hastily but carefully in Washington and the final decision was to leave everything to the lads in the leading plane, depending upon their skill as aviators, their courage as fighters, if events reached that stage, their ingenuity as Americans to accomplish successfully their given task and get the documents to Paris.

What, then, of the four young men who, compelled to contend with all the natural and inevitable and manifold difficulties of such an endeavor, by this time found themselves required to watch for an enemy from behind, while facing from the front what threatened to become a terrific storm, driving on toward them even as they drove into it?

Although Don Harlan, alert every second of the time, and aided by Fred Bentner, who now could do nothing unless they picked up the radio of some ship, had carefully charted every mile of their course thus far, and knew, according to the compass, that they were still headed right, some strange intuition told him that the rising wind was blowing them further off their course than they realized, and in a direction where they might expect even worse and continued bad weather.

A delicately balanced level told him that for hours they had maintained an almost undeviatingly horizontal position, and therefore a sustained altitude, and yet the approaching storm was further heralded by a steadily falling barometer.

With the receipt of the wireless warning they had opened the throttles of the motors wide, and their air speed was now one hundred and twenty-five miles an hour, but there were doubts as to whether they were making headway of more than half that speed, with the wind increasing in velocity momentarily, and the plane beginning to rock and sway under the impact of these opposed forces.

"We won't try to ride this," Big Jack announced heavily, as a veritable gale struck them with such suddenness as to swerve them considerably off their course. "Altitude is what we want. We'll get above it."

Alas for sailors sailing new and uncharted seas, and aviators encountering previously unknown wind channels and air currents!

This storm came upon them so suddenly, broke upon them with such fury, beat them seemingly from all sides at once with such unprecedented force, that the very effort to tilt the rudder threatened to carry that and the whole after part of the plane away, bringing upon them disaster and destruction.

Andy, with feet and hands taut, turned a pale face toward Big Jack. The seriousness of the situation was equally reflected there, although the young giant's chin stuck out in a way that augured no admission of any but the most overwhelming defeat.

Again they tried to mount the storm to get to a height where they would be out of the reach of its worst elements, but a second time the effort was unsuccessful. The wind was coming in waves which threatened to tear the tremendous wings entirely away from the fusilage of the plane. Beneath them the ocean was being lashed into a fury of giant combers which, as they could see them, most resembled the constant opening and shutting of the great maw of some beast of prey, patiently, expectantly, awaiting their destruction.

The big-cylindered motors still were smashing out all the power they had in them and the propellers were lashing the air with seemingly uninterrupted force; the air-speed indicator still stood at one hundred and twenty-five miles an hour, and petrol was being consumed at an alarming rate; yet the lads all felt now that they were doing nothing more than holding their own—virtually remaining stationary over one spot which at any instant now might become their unmarked and unknown grave.

Any schoolboy is familiar with the principle that if two locomotives meet in a head-on collision, each traveling at a speed of, say, sixty miles an hour, the impact is the same as though one locomotive, going 120 miles an hour, had collided with one standing still.

If their guess was correct, therefore, that they were merely maintaining a stationary position, it was clear that up to this time the plane was combatting a pressure equivalent to two hundred and fifty miles' speed per hour. No plane long could endure such a tremendous test.

"I've heard the expression 'a tough night for the sailors,'" Andy shouted across to Big Jack, for it was difficult now for them to make themselves heard above the pounding of the engines, the scream of the storm and the beating of the propellers, even within the enclosed nacelle. "But," Andy continued, "I'm willing to agree right now that this is a rougher night on aviators."

"Yes," Jack shouted back, "and we're going to adopt seamen's tactics. We can't seem to get above this storm, and there's only one other thing to do. If we can bank and turn without spilling over completely we'll ride it out, even if it carries us back to Halifax."

Each man realized that upon the deftness with which they acted when the opportune moment came, their lives depended.

"Ready!" shouted Jack, who had been counting the alternate periods with which the heavier blasts had struck them, and felt the exact second approaching when the difficult maneuver might be attempted with least hazard.

"Right!" came the triple chorus in turn.

"Ready for a right bank!" Jack called out an instant later. "Over now!"

Each man at his appointed place, each carrying out his expected task, they worked with the perfectly adjusted rhythm of a unified machine.

For what seemed several minutes they wavered at a terrific and dangerous angle. The wind tore at the wings with what seemed like maniacal fury. At any instant it seemed that they would be carried away. Jack grabbed a lever and suddenly shot a double dose of petrol into the engines. They put forth their mightiest effort in just the nick of time. It was sufficient to drag them upward a dozen feet, and another gale of wind that would have completely capsized them at their previous level, as suddenly righted them now—and they were headed down the hurricane at a speed that human beings never had traveled before.

They cut down their speed considerably by all but shutting the throttles and depending only upon the force of the storm; but at no time did they dare completely shut off their power, for at irregular intervals the sudden shooting on of a full speed was all that righted them when the wind unexpectedly swerved to another quarter and with no advance warning attacked them first upon the port and then upon the starboard sides.

For three hours the terror of the storm continued, and then it took a northern course and began abating almost as suddenly as it had appeared. The sea, too, began to subside almost as soon as the heavy winds ceased, and as dawn approached and the clouds began to break there was little to indicate that the lads, due to the staunch durability of their plane, had ridden out one of the worst northern storms of that season.

But repairs were necessary to more than one part of the plane, and it was impossible to make a safe landing where they were. The compass showed them that in the power of the hurricane they had been heading east by north. To seek a calmer sea they turned almost directly south, and at 8 A.M., with the sun shining brightly, made a landing upon the surface of the ocean, which seemed entirely undisturbed by the cyclonic rage of the storm which had mighty nearly cost the four young men their lives.

Wires needed tightening, the rudder required bracing, a thorough inspection was their only safeguard against further difficulties. They descended, knowing that probably valuable hours would have to be given to the task.

But the thought came to each, What would they have done had they not had pontoons for landing on the surface of the ocean?