Air Service Boys over the Atlantic; Or, The Longest Flight on Record

by E. J. Craine

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE END OF THE FLIGHT

  No longer did the fog enfold them in its damp grasp. After leaving theimmediate coast behind them the last trace of it disappeared.

  Jack refused to take his entranced eyes from the binoculars for a singleminute. He felt a hundred-fold repaid for all the perils encounteredduring the memorable flight from the shore of France, during which theyhad spanned the vast area of the Atlantic, and were now sailingpeacefully along above the home soil.

  Lieutenant Beverly made an announcement just then that startled them.

  "We must look for a place to drop down without any further loss of time!"he called out to Tom, who was still serving as pilot.

  "But it would be mighty fine," Jack observed wistfully, "if only we mightkeep going on until we got a few miles out of Bridgeton. I know every rodof territory for miles around and could point out a dandy level field tomake our landing in. We'd be able to descend without observation, too, Ireally believe."

  "That'd surely be nice, Jack," Beverly told him, "and I wish we couldaccommodate you. But the fact is we're about out of gas! I noted this ashort time ago, but said nothing, because it would do no good to throw ascare into you both. Besides, Tom had already headed direct for the landat the time."

  "How lucky that didn't happen when we were a hundred miles out at sea!"Tom exclaimed, his first thought being one of satisfaction, rather thanuseless complaint. This was characteristic of Tom, always seeing thebright side of things, no matter how gloomy they appeared to others.

  "Then I'd better be looking for a landing-place," Jack quickly remarked,getting over his little disappointment.

  "And the sooner we duck the better," Beverly admitted. "If the motorsgo back on us we'll be in a bad fix; and volplaning to the groundisn't always as easy as it's pictured, especially when you've nochoice of a landing."

  "After all, it does not matter so very much," Jack concluded. "Surelyonce we succeed in gaining a footing we can discover a means for gettingto our goal without much loss of time."

  He bent his energies toward looking for what would seem to be apromising open spot, where there would not be apt to be any pitfalls ortraps waiting to wreck their plane, and possibly endanger their lives.

  "Scrub woods all below us, Tom!" he announced.

  "But there must be openings here and there," the pilot told him. "If onlythe field seems long enough to admit of our coming to a stop, we'd bettertake chances."

  "Nothing yet, sorry to say," called out Jack.

  "Suppose you drop lower, Tom," suggested Beverly. "If we skirt the topsof the taller trees we'll be better able to see without depending on theglasses. All three of us can be on the lookout at the same time."

  Tom considered that a good idea and he lost no time in carrying it out.It was easier now to take particular note of the ground; but they passedover mile after mile of the scrub without discovering what they mostearnestly sought.

  "Things are getting down to a fine point, Tom," warned Beverly. "Our gasis on its last legs, and any minute now we'll find ourselves withoutmotive power."

  "It must change soon," the pilot told them. "This scrub forest has got togive way to rising ground and open spaces."

  "But if it doesn't, what then?" asked Jack.

  "I hate to think of crashing down into those trees," Tom admitted."We've just got to get over being too particular. Several places we letpass us might have answered our purpose. Look ahead, Jack, and tell me ifthere doesn't seem to be some sort of open spot lying there."

  Jack gave a whoop.

  "Here we are!" he cried exultantly. "It's an opening in the scrub timber,a big gash too, for a fact! Why, already I can see that it looks like alevel green field. How queer it should be lying right there, as if itmight be meant for us."

  "You don't glimpse any other chance further on, do you, Jack?" continuedthe pilot.

  "Never a thing, Tom. Just a continuation of those same old dwarfoak trees. But why do you ask that? What's the matter with thisfine big gap?"

  "I'm afraid it's a marsh, and not a dry field!" Tom answered. "But allthe same I presume we'll have to chance it. Better to strike a bog thanto fall into those trees, where the lot of us might be killed."

  "Suppose we circle around, and try to find the best place for a descent,"proposed Beverly.

  All of them strained their eyes to try to see better. Unfortunately acloud passed over the sun just then, rendering it difficult to make sureof anything.

  "What's the verdict?" sang out Tom presently, keeping a wary eye on thestraining motors.

  "Looks to me as if that further part might be the highest ground," wasJack's decision.

  "I agree with you there!" instantly echoed Beverly.

  "That settles it! Here goes to make the try," Tom announced, againswinging in and shutting off all power.

  He continued to glide downward, approaching the ground at a certain pointwhich he had picked but with his highly trained eye as apparently thebest location for the landing.

  Suspecting what might happen, Tom held back until the very last, so thatthe big bombing plane was not going at much speed when its wheels came incontact with the ground for the first time.

  Something happened speedily, for it proved to be a bog, and as therubber-tired wheels sank in and could not be propelled, the naturalresult followed that the nose of the giant plane was buried in the softground, and they came to an abrupt stop.

  Tom was the first to crawl forth, and Beverly followed close upon hisheels. The third member of the party did not seem as ready to report,which fact alarmed his chum.

  "Jack, what's wrong with you?" he called out, starting to climb aboardthe smashed plane again.

  "Nothing so very much, I think; but I seem to be all twisted up in thisbroken gear, and can hardly move," came the answer.

  Tom secretly hoped it was not a broken arm or leg instead. He started tofeel around, and soon managed to get the other free from the broken endsof the wire stays that had somehow hindered his escape. Together theycrawled out, to find Lieutenant Beverly feeling himself all over as iftrying to discover what the extent of his damages were.

  "Try to see if you've been injured any way seriously, Jack," begged hisanxious chum, still unconvinced.

  An investigation disclosed the marvelous fact that all of them hadmanaged to come through the smashing landing with but a small amount ofdamage. When this was ascertained without any doubt Jack started toprance around, unable to contain himself within bounds.

  "Excuse me if I act a little looney, fellows!" he begged. "Fact is, I'mjust keyed up to topnotch and something will give way unless I let offsteam a bit."

  With that he yelled and laughed and cheered until his breath gave out.Neither of the others felt any inclination to try to stop his antics.Truth to tell, they were tempted to egg Jack on, because he was reallyexpressing in his own fashion something of the same exultation that allof them felt.

  The great flight had been carried through, and here they were landed onthe soil of America, three young aviators who but a few days before hadbeen serving their country on the fighting-front in Northern France. Yes,the Atlantic had been successfully bridged by a heavier-than-air plane,and from the time of leaving France until this minute their feet had notonce pressed any soil; for that ice-pack in mid-Atlantic could not becounted against them, since it too was nothing but congealed water.

  "But the poor old bomber! It's ruined, Colin, I'm afraid," Jack finallymanaged to say, when he sank down from his exertions.

  "That's a small matter," Beverly assured him. "The main thing is that wedid what we set out to do, and proved that the dream of all real airmencould be made to come true. We may live to see a procession of monsterboats of the air setting out for over-seas daily, carrying passengers, aswell as mail and express matter."

  "Yes," said Tom gravely, and yet with a pardonable trace of pride invoice and manner, "the Atlantic has been conquered, and saddled, andbridled, like any wild broncho of the plain
s. But hadn't we better bethinking of getting out of this soft marshy tract?"

  "As quickly as we possibly can," Jack told him. "We'll try to run acrosssome Virginia farmer, black or white, who will have a horse and agree totake us to the nearest railroad station. Once we hit civilization, therest will be easy."

  "What about the plane, Colin?" asked Tom.

  "It can stay here for the time being," the other answered him. "Lateron I'll hire some one to have it hauled out and stored against mycoming back--after we've been a while in Berlin and got Heine tobehaving himself."

  They secured such things as it was desirable they should keep. Acting onTom's advice everything that might testify to their identity was alsoremoved, lest the bogged plane be accidentally discovered and betraythem. Afterwards they set out to find a way beyond the borders of themarsh and scrub oaks, to some place where possibly they might getassistance.