Part 7

“Not a minute,” they promised. “We’ll send you wireless messages every day, and postcards with the place where we stopped marked by a cross. Be good, Mom.”

Presently they were again climbing into the storm and as soon as they had altitude enough, Jim leveled off, set the course south by southeast, and opened her wide. The “Lark” split through the air like a shot and an hour later had left behind her all sign of winter weather. The two boys were intensely interested in the performance of the plane and as the speed was recorded, they glanced at each other with exclamations of enthusiasm. Before noon the peninsula of Florida was stretched out beneath them, the waters rolling on either side; at one o’clock they glided down to a landing at a private airdrome the Don had recommended. A mechanic came to greet them, and he eyed the plane with unconcealed admiration.

“Some bird!”

“We think so. Don Haurea suggested that we stop here. We want to go and have lunch, replace the gas we have used, and start off in a couple of hours,” Jim explained. At the mention of the Don’s name, the man looked at them more closely.

“My boss isn’t here but I know that friends of Don Haurea are to be given the works. I’ll be glad to do anything I can for you,” he answered.

“Thank you.”

“Roll her up and I’ll lock her in that small hangar for you. I’ll give you a key and in case I’m not here when you return just help yourself. There is a filling tank in the house.”

“That is very courteous.” They exchanged introductions, a few words of general interest, and when the “Lark” was housed, Mr. Austin joined them. His face wore a frown.

“Didn’t we make rather good time, Jim?” he wanted to know.

“Rather,” Jim grinned, but he made no further explanation then.

“When do we eat?” Bob demanded. “To quote Yncicea, my esophagus feels as if my pharynx was severed.”

“We’d better take you right to the nearest hospital,” Mr. Austin laughed. “I’d say you must be suffering.”

“Right you are, but it’s a restaurant I need,” Bob declared.

“There is a very good hotel, any number of them in fact, but one I think is pretty good about a mile from here. I’m sending one of our men up that way in the car. If you care to go along he’ll give you a lift.”

“That is very kind, thank you so much,” Mr. Austin accepted. It did not take long to get the “Lark” stored and locked in, then the party went with the chauffeur for the drive into the lovely city. The hotel looked most attractive, and the travelers decided it was exactly what they were looking for. Presently they were seated in an out-of-door dining room, and when they had given their orders Mr. Austin again broached the subject of their speed.

“Didn’t we make the trip in rather short order?” he asked.

“Yes, we did, Dad. Don Haurea fixed the “Lark” so that she has extra capacity, but we are not broadcasting the fact. Besides that, we flew high and almost straight.”

“And we didn’t meet a bump,” Bob added. “Holy smoke, winter underwear isn’t so good in Miami.” He began to squirm and the others watched with sympathetic amusement.

“Suppose we buy some lighter things while we are here,” Dad proposed.

“Corking idea,” Bob agreed. “You can’t get them too light for me.”

“You fellows go shopping when we finish lunch, and I’ll go back to the drome. I want to have a look at the “Lark” and fill her up,” Jim told them.

“Come to think of it, didn’t Mom put lighter suits in the bag?”

“Yes, but just suits. She said we might need to buy extra ones and we may as well do it while we are here,” Mr. Austin told them.

By that time the waiter appeared and the three gave their undivided attention to the meal, which was a particularly tasty one. There were a great many people in the place and they looked as if they hailed from all parts of the world. The helmets of the three Texans attracted some attention to their table and a few of the people smiled in a friendly fashion as if flyers were everybody’s comrades. When they were about half finished a party of two gentlemen and a young lady took the nearest places. The girl looked as if she were mighty disappointed over something and Jim heard her remarks.

“I think it’s a shame my brother could not be here,” she said.

“It sure is, Lillian, but the Marines down below us haven’t been given any leave for several weeks. They have to keep right on the job while things look nasty,” one of the men explained.

“Yes, of course, but I did hope Phil could make it. It’s been months since he could get away.”

“He’ll get extra time later. Be a good sport and try to get along with just us. We’re really not half bad companions if you’ll give us a chance,” the man said gravely.

“You are both perfect dears. I’ve been so disgruntled that it’s a wonder you haven’t wanted to drop me into the Gulf. I’ll try and make amends.” She laughed gayly and her companions joined in heartily. After that the three seemed to have a very jolly time, and Jim forgot all about them. He was thinking of Don Haurea and his warning for them to be on the alert, and that was one reason he was anxious to get back to the drome and into the air as quickly as he could.

“I’d better reserve a room,” Mr. Austin suggested.

“Let’s go on, Dad. We can make Havana before dark,” Jim said quickly.

“That’s rather a long stretch of flying, my boy. I thought we would rest here, and go on in the morning.”

“Bob got a nap on the way, so he can relieve me, and the quicker we get off, the better. I don’t want to hang around here if we do not have to.”

“I’m sure that I don’t,” his father admitted.

“It’s unanimous. Let’s hurry and get something that feels like no shirt, and be on our way,” Bob urged. There was no objection to this, so they paid their bill, Jim got a taxi to take him back to the drome, while his father and Caldwell took another to expedite their shopping tour.

In due time young Austin was unlocking the hangar, and he gave the “Lark” a careful examination, then replenished the fuel supply, tried out the engine, and finally rolled the plane down the runway. One of the mechanics offered his assistance, which the boy declined for he didn’t really need help and he didn’t want an outsider to play nursemaid to his bus. Everything was in apple pie order when a taxi drove up with Mr. Austin and Bob, and Jim noticed a third man, who was in the uniform of an officer of the Marines.

“We got a dozen sets of cob-webs, Old Timer,” Bob called.

“I’ll change into mine right away.” The two were coming toward him, and Mr. Austin handed a small package to his son.

“I have the extra suits in another bundle to put with the luggage. Jim, we met Lieutenant Morrow of the Marines. He is in a very unfortunate predicament, my son, and wants us to give him a lift across to Havana so he can join his company. He has been on leave, but he missed the N. Y. R. B. A. air line, and he cannot get a boat. It is very important that he join his company tonight,” Mr. Austin explained as he introduced them.

“Didn’t know there were any Marines in Havana,” Jim remarked as he greeted the officer.

“There aren’t, but I can get a lift from there without any trouble,” Lieutenant Morrow explained. “You see, I got five-day’s leave because my wife was sick. She’s been in a bad way and I stayed with her until the last minute. I wanted to be with her every minute that I could. Then the train I took to get here was delayed,” Morrow said. His face wore an anxious expression, and his eyes looked as if he had lost a week’s sleep, but Jim hesitated.

“He asked us if we were flying to Cuba and told us the trouble he’s in. It is serious, you know Jim, if he doesn’t join his company when he’s supposed to. I told him that you have been doing the piloting and I do not know how much weight we are carrying,” Bob explained. Jim could see that both his Buddy and his father were anxious to accommodate the stranded Marine and he frowned.

“Mighty sorry, old man, not to be able to help you out. I’d do it in a minute, but our plane is not very big and I’ve just tanked up to the last ounce we’ll carry,” he said with emphasis. Bob looked at him, but Jim busied himself about the machine.

“Can’t you dump out the extra stuff?” Morrow urged. He had fully expected to be taken and he showed his resentment. “I’m an officer of our Federal Government and you are in duty bound to assist me. I can order you to do so--”

“How do you get that way, Old Man?” Jim demanded, whirling on him quickly. “Am I responsible because you over-stay your leave? Florida has any number of air planes and you’ll have no trouble getting one to take you across if you need to go. Get in, Bob and Dad.” He snapped out the last words so sharply, that his two companions complied without question, and it wasn’t until they were in their seats that it occurred to them that they had treated a United States officer rather sharply, but the “Lark” was already thundering into the sky. She climbed to ten thousand feet, then leveled off, and her nose was turned south.

“Come on, old man, change seats with me,” Bob insisted.

“All right,” Jim agreed, then he spoke into the tube. “O.K. back there, Dad?”

“Yes I am, my son, but I do not understand why you chose to be so uncivil to that officer.”

“I wasn’t until he began to shave-tail me, and besides, if we dropped down on one of the islands tonight and found you nicely strangled back there, your wife would never let us take you out again. We’re not taking any chances,” he answered.

“Have you any reason to believe the man was misrepresenting himself?”

“A frail one. While we were at lunch I heard a pretty girl almost cry because her brother, who is a Marine, hadn’t been able to get leave in weeks, and another thing, I bet a gold tooth that the boat service from Miami to Cuba is better than the train service from New York to Chicago,” he answered. “I’m going to change my togs.”

“You surely have a mind in the making, oh my step-brother. I was so busy feeling sorry for the poor goop that I didn’t use my think machine at all,” Bob remarked ruefully.

“Well, use it now, old fellow. In a few minutes Neptune will be under us and he’s a jealous God. Fly high, wide and handsome,” Jim chuckled.

Bob turned his entire attention to flying, while Jim managed to maneuver out of his heavy clothes and get into the lighter garments. It was pretty close quarters, but it was accomplished at last, and Austin settled himself in his seat, took a look at the parachute, adjusted that and the safety strap, then he had time to observe the vast expanse of ocean rolling in endless white-tipped billows beneath them. The plane was singing along smoothly, there were only a few clouds in the blue dome above, but the wind was strong. Austin scrutinized the chart, did some calculating, and finally made a decision.

“I say, Buddy,” he spoke into the tube and Bob took the other end.

“What say?”

“If the esteemed Lieutenant Morrow was on mischief bent he will manage somehow to get word ahead of our coming. By the way, how did you happen to run into him?”

“We were just coming out of the store and he spoke to us. Said he could tell that we were traveling by plane because we had on the helmets, and he wanted to know if we could carry an extra passenger. He told us his tale of woe and finished up by saying that he was desperate to get back to his company because the Marines are busy lads right now, besides it would go hard with him if he didn’t put in an appearance on schedule,” Bob explained.

“I see. Well, you know Dad hopes to forestall any crookedness that may be afoot when he lands in Cuzco. It’s a big deal they are putting over, the parents are involved heavily financially, and if a few of those lads who are in a hurry to get things cleaned up found out that Dad is flying to the scene of the massacre-to-be they might try to clip our wings; do something to keep him away until it’s too late,” Jim announced.

“Yes, that’s clear, but who the heck knew we started?”

“Search me, but if Morrow was trying to put one over on us between Miami and Cuba, he’ll let his boss know that we didn’t fall so well for his sob stuff. They’ll work fast, do something else.”

“Do you believe Morrow was not on the level really?”

“I don’t know whether to believe it or not, but it’s just as well not to give him a chance.”

“The more I think of him, the fishier he gets. Got a plan to upset his apple cart in Havana?” Bob inquired.

“Yes.”

“Shoot. What is it?”

“We won’t land there.”

“Go right on to Cuzco?”

“Not so foolish as that. Dad wouldn’t stand for it. We’ll give our island of Cuba so much space that the inhabitants won’t even see a speck of us, and we’ll make our landing on Jamaica. There’s a port called Montego and I’m sure the inhabitants will be delighted to see a couple of little boys who are trying to get along in the world.” Bob glanced at the map, did some mental figuring, and nodded his approval.

“We may as well keep our rear seat from knowing what our front seats are doing,” he grinned.

“You get brighter by the minute, old man.”

“It’s the company I keep. I’d be much better if you weren’t such a poor skate,” Bob retorted.

“Grab your parachute, man, you are going to be dropped into yon briny.”

“Unhand me. I say, let’s eat in the air. We’ll announce that later to Dad. Gosh, he’ll think we’re bum pilots not being able to see Cuba,” Bob chuckled.

“Perhaps he’ll take a nap, and I’ll tell him you were piloting,” Jim announced cheerfully. “Anyway, he’ll be glad we are nearer.”

“Sure. It’s over five hundred miles by a straight line, and we may hit a fog, or a bad wind. Those islands down there are the Keys. See how high you have to get to be out of sight of them.” Bob zoomed a thousand feet higher and the tiny dots were lost from their sight.

“That means that an inhabitant, if he has no glasses, can’t see us,” Jim remarked.

“Yes, but Cuba is three or four hundred miles long and a hundred wide. If we fly straight across it that will take at least twenty minutes, at top speed. Lucky there are no indicators in the passenger seat. You have to remember that Dad’s a pilot too,” Bob reminded his buddy.

“I don’t believe he’d object if he knew. I’ll tell him.” Jim took up the tube and spoke to his father. “I say Dad, we can make Montego in Jamaica easily before dark. Suppose we do that, then tomorrow we won’t have such a long hop.”

“Hump. I should be glad to cover the additional miles if you are sure that it isn’t going to be too much for you boys and the “Lark”. We do not want to be fool-hardy,” he answered.

“It’ll be easy, and the weather is great. We may as well take advantage of it as long as we can,” Jim explained.

“If you are all right when we fly over Cuba, why, go on by all means.”

“Good. We’ll make a raid on Mom’s baskets for supper.”

“I’m glad he knows,” said Bob, and Jim nodded his agreement.

After that, Austin spent some time observing the ocean rolling by under them, then he got one of his books from under the seat and prepared to do some studying, but he kept the tube in his hand so that his step-brother might call on him without delay. In a few minutes he was so absorbed in what he was learning that he completely forgot he was not at his desk at home or at the laboratory at Don Haurea’s. Some time later Bob nudged him, and Jim glanced up.

“Cuba?”

“Must be. I’ve seen a couple of planes floating around. There’s a big fellow over there,” Bob remarked and Jim looked in the direction indicated. The long island racing toward them looked remarkably beautiful, and the boy could see numerous boats of all sizes on the water, besides quite a few planes that seemed to be soaring about lazily in the sky as if their owners were merely having a good time.

“Better go higher,” Jim suggested. Bob turned the “Lark’s” nose into the air, zoomed up swiftly, and raced forward. She was not traveling at the extra speed, so that would not call special attention to her, but while they were still some distance from the island, they saw one plane detach itself from the rest, and start out as if it intended to meet them. It soared swiftly toward them, and Jim watched it thoughtfully, while Bob tried to figure out whether it was merely a friendly advance or someone who was interested in looking them over. He decided not to give the fellow a chance, so he zoomed swiftly up, swerved his course slightly, and sped forward well out of the observer’s range of vision. By that time they were nearing Havana, could see the activity of the lovely city, and again Bob climbed, then racing into a cloud bank he put on full speed. Jim watched the other plane, which circled wide before it followed toward the land.

“That guy was looking for us, Buddy, but he doesn’t know if it’s us, or isn’t us,” Jim remarked grimly.

“Did I give him the slip?”

“I think so. Can we keep in these clouds?”

“They looked deep when I was watching them,” Bob replied grimly.

IX

THE STOWAWAY

The “Lark” soared so high and swiftly over Cuba that it would have taken a racer to have caught even a second glimpse of her, and although it made the trip less simple both boys were glad that the thick atmosphere was not dispelled south of the island. Caldwell grimly made his calculations for their course and Austin checked up on them.

“Methinks this flight is not going to be all baby talk, Buddy,” Jim announced.

“Bet my new shirt against a set of red flannels that we hit some hot spots that won’t be all Peruvian weather,” Bob added.

“Wish we didn’t have to stop this side of Belize, but I reckon we better. We’re not doing a Lindbergh.” Just then the light flashed and Jim took up the speaking tube. “Are you there!”

“Certainly. I observe we are leaving Havana in our rear.”

“That’s good, we reared right over it and lost the reception committee, if one was out looking for us.”

“It’s pretty foggy, my boy.”

“We don’t need to worry about that because we don’t have to come down. We’ll probably hit some breaks in it before sunset. How do you like the trip? I forgot to suggest that you bring anything to read,” Jim laughed, and his father chuckled.

“Mother was more thoughtful. She put in a couple of books--mystery stories, and I have read half of one of them,” Mr. Austin answered.

“Great stuff. Maybe we can get some ideas. Got everything you need so that you can eat when the spirit moves?”

“Plenty.”

“Because if you haven’t, there’s a trolley line from the two cock-pits. Just slide up the round disk and you’ll find an opening big enough to send a club sandwich through.”

“I investigated the disk some hours ago, and I judge it opens behind the passenger seat in front.”

“It does. I’ll leave the door open so you need not be afraid when it gets dark. Got your sky-light up?”

“No. I find it very comfortable with it down. So long.”

“Everything O.K.?” Bob inquired.

“Top hole. He didn’t say anything about noticing the plane. He’s been reading a mystery story your mother provided.”

“That’s just like Mom,” Bob laughed. Assured that all was well, Jim went back to his studies, and an hour later he looked up at his step-brother, whose expression was a bit tense.

“Let’s swap places, old fellow,” Jim proposed.

“Don’t care if I do.” They made the change, and as soon as they were in their places, the younger boy began to investigate the hamper. “Shall I give you a hand out?”

“Sure thing.” The fog was considerably more thick than when the plane had dived into it, and as far as Austin could see, there wasn’t a break in any direction. He switched on the lights by the control board, but the tiny cabin was bright enough he decided.

“Can you spare a knee?”

“One.” Jim moved his leg and Bob spread a napkin, balanced a wooden plate on it, and proceeded to fill it with bread, butter, pickles, cold roast beef, and a bottle of milk. “Go easy,” Jim ordered, so the milk was given a safer place on the floor. Although it was early by their watches and also the clock in front of them, they gauged their actions entirely on their stomachs, and attacked the food with keen appetites. When they had eaten all they could, Bob repacked the hamper, then slid his chair forward and prepared to take a nap.

“Better put a coat over you,” Jim suggested. He pulled out his own jacket and threw it over his Flying Buddy.

“I say, Jim. Wonder if we hadn’t better stick by the plane all night?”

“You mean keep on watch?”

“Yes. We’d be in a dandy fix if we found it with the propeller gone in the morning.”

“Let’s see what sort of place we can park it in,” Jim suggested. He had been wondering uneasily about the town in which they expected to spend the night, and he felt reasonably sure there would be no airdrome, or a garage sufficiently large to admit the plane. On thinking it over, he decided that the island was probably thinly settled, and in that case there must be some sort of barn or open shed. After that, Bob settled back comfortably, his mouth dropped open, and if the engine had not been roaring so melodiously, the boy’s snores would have been audible.

“He sure can go to sleep without much trouble,” Jim grinned, but he knew that Bob had been so excited the night before that he had slept little, and he had been up two hours earlier than anyone on the K-A that morning. The time passed quickly, and at last the young pilot managed to get above the fog and see the great sun, which was almost setting. He drove along the top of the ceiling for a while, then dived through, and a few miles ahead he made out the dim edge of an island.

“That’s Jamaica. It must be,” he told himself. Then he picked up the tube to speak to his father in the back. “How goes it?”

“Fine.”

“We’ll land down here.”

“All right. I shall certainly be glad to stretch my legs.”

“I say, are we in Peru?” Bob poked up his head.

“We passed that hours ago,” Jim laughed.

“Gee, I had a heck of a dream.”

“Don’t tell it before breakfast, it’s bad luck.”

Jim circled the “Lark” above the island and selected an open space back of the town which he was sure was Montego. The Jamaica Island lay half hidden in the midst, and the three air travelers sat tensely wondering what the next few minutes would have in store for them. Swiftly the plane glided down and at last lighted near a group of low buildings that might belong to a small piece of farm land. None of them thought it strange that it should be a boy who would come racing inquisitively, for there isn’t a youngster on the face of the earth who could resist the force which compels him to run to a descending machine.

“Hello, Bud,” Jim called experimentally.

“Hello,” the little fellow drawled, and the three were delighted that the salutation was understood.

“May we leave our plane here, and get lodgings for the night?” was the next query.

“Pop’s coming.” Sure enough, a tall weather-beaten man came leisurely to greet them, and the boy shouted eagerly, “They want to stay the night.”

“They kin set in the shed,” the man answered.

“Thank you. We’ll be glad to pay,” Mr. Austin explained.

“Doesn’t cost me anything,” the man shrugged indifferently.

“It is worth something to us.”

“Satisfy yourself. You can get something to eat in the house, but we can’t sleep you. There’s grass in the shed.” With that cordial reception, he strolled off, his son at his heels, and Jim taxied the plane into the long open shed, which might have been built for cows, but had apparently stood unused for months or years. The Flying Buddies surveyed the place while Mr. Austin made his way to the house to arrange for food. He found a woman with a sick child in her arms, so instead of asking her to prepare a meal, he bought a few supplies which he carried back to the Buddies.

“I didn’t get much,” he announced.

“We can fix a bunk with the grass,” Jim told him. “There’s plenty of it and it’s clean. We thought we’d sleep down here by the plane, but there’s a more comfortable--”

“Let’s stay together,” the man proposed. “How about gas?”