Chapter 11

OFF FOR PANAMA

That same afternoon Mr. Giddings called upon his business rival, Mr. Wrenn, of the _Clarion_, and presented to him the tentative program for the great race around the world's girdle, as the _Daily Independent_ had planned it. Mr. Wrenn declared that he was willing to stand by his former agreement to allow the _Independent_ to select the route, and said it was entirely satisfactory to him, and that he would at once take steps to have fuel supplies on hand at the various airports for his crew when they should arrive. He made no comments as to his own airplane, but agreed that the advertising plan his caller had worked out was a capital one, stating that he would co-operate heartily with him in carrying it to a successful conclusion.

Mr. Giddings was considerably surprised that Mr. Wrenn made no objection to the longest "hops" on the route, which were of greater extent than the average airplane could make, and was ready to modify the arrangement if there had been any objection. But even when he particularly called this matter to the other publisher's attention, Mr. Wrenn only smiled serenely, saying, "Those hops are perfectly satisfactory to us," leaving Mr. Giddings with a deep wonderment as to what sort of aircraft the _Clarion_ proposed using.

"I am under the impression that our contemporary has something up his sleeve, but I cannot conceive what it can be," Mr. Giddings confided to his son that evening upon reaching home; and when Bob repeated this to the Ross boys and Tom Meeks next day, they too began to wonder more than ever what type of an airplane the _Clarion_ proposed using against them, and who the crew might be.

"Did your father and Mr. Wrenn decide upon a date for the start?" asked Paul.

"Yes," replied Bob; "they made it the 20th of July, this summer, weather permitting. We start from Panama at one o'clock in the afternoon."

"Our curiosity as to the identity of our competitors will be satisfied then, at least," laughed John.

"And their curiosity, too!" put in Tom. "I'll stake my last cent they're just as much in the dark about us and the Sky-Bird II as we are about their outfit."

"We'll hope so, anyhow," remarked Bob; "but ever since we had those blue-prints stolen, and found we had a stranger sneaking around the hangar, I've been uneasy."

At this reference, all the young men felt a strange oppression. They had talked over it more than once, and each time it had left them with a sense of peril to their interests, why they could not tell. As before, they now tried to laugh it off, and began to talk about other subjects.

There was still considerable to do in the way of preparing the Sky-Bird and themselves for the long trip, and for weeks all four boys were kept hustling to make the final installations of accessories and equipment. Bob rigged up a wireless telegraph in connection with his telephone set, and for protection, four good repeating rifles and an automatic shotgun were put in racks in the after-cabin, while each fellow provided himself with an automatic revolver which he would carry in a holster attached to a belt. Medium-weight flying suits, with a heavy, wool-lined coat to slip on in case they flew very high, and trim flying boots and soft gloves, made up the personal toggery.

Whenever the boys found a chance they went to the public library and absorbed all the knowledge they could about the countries over which they would pass and the places at which they were destined to stop. By writing to the authorities in these localities, Mr. Giddings also secured much valuable information for them as to present weather conditions and landing-fields--information which was further supplemented by numerous special airway maps supplied by the Aero Club of America and similar aviation organizations in foreign countries. From these maps Paul worked out a very clear chart of their own course from beginning to end. A copy was given to each of the newspaper publishers concerned, to reproduce on their large electric street boards, and another was framed and placed immediately in front of the pilot's seat in the cabin of the Sky-Bird II.

All this time the columns of the _Daily Independent_ and the _Clarion_ contained frequent vivid references to features of the trip calculated to awaken the interest of the public, and as the time slipped along into July, the attention of people all over the land was centered upon the forthcoming contest, and it became the principal subject for comment. The secrecy maintained by both principals as to the kind of aircraft to be used, and the mystery as to identity of the members of the respective crews, only whetted curiosity and interest the more, as the sharp newspaper men knew it would. Every man, woman, and child in the wide world seemed to be eagerly waiting for the moment to come when he or she would see the promised pictures of the bold aviators and their machines in the big newspapers, and hear that they had made their first jump eastward from Panama.

All being in readiness, at daybreak on the morning of July 16th the Ross boys and Tom Meeks appeared at the Sky-Bird's hangar, and pushed the airplane outside. As they were doing so, Mr. Giddings and Bob joined them. The publisher had planned to accompany his crew to Panama in the machine, to see them officially off, while his reporters made the journey by train, in company with the writing force of the rival paper.

"We'll keep the time of our going secret, leaving before people are generally up," Mr. Giddings had said to the boys; "and by going on the 16th we'll not only be ahead of their smart calculations, but we shall have about half a week to rest up and see the country down there before you begin your strenuous journey. I need a little vacation anyway, so I will accompany you. We will stop off at Miami on the way, and enjoy some big-game fishing in the Florida waters with some of my friends."

So the young men were very much excited and eager to be off this morning of the 16th, you may be sure. The Sky-Bird was tuned up a little to make certain she was in first-class condition, then they all climbed in and the big glistening creature of wood, metal, and silk shot up into the air. It would probably be close to three weeks before they would see that familiar field and hangar again, and in that time if all went well they would circle the huge globe upon which they and their fellow-men lived. It was truly a most inspiring thought--one to have filled less phlegmatic blood than theirs with the wildest pulsations!

The weather was not at all promising, masses of gray nimbus-cloud threatening to shut out the sun as it arose, with a promise of uncertain winds, if not rain; but John and Tom declared the conditions all the better for giving the machine a good test-out.

They climbed slowly upward through the cheerless, mist-laden skies, the engine well throttled back and running as smoothly as any engine could. To make sure that all was in perfect working order, they circled for ten minutes over the town, trying the different controls, then turned the Sky-Bird southward.

At two thousand feet they suddenly emerged from the fog belt into brilliant sunshine, but the world below was lost to sight, screened by a dense pall of mist. Accordingly, Tom Meeks, who was acting as pilot, set a compass course for Cape Hatteras, the first guide-post along the Atlantic coast, some five hundred miles distant. After an hour's steady running, John took the throttle, followed later by Bob, and finally Paul. It was a new sensation to the last-named youths to be piloting the airplane out of view of the earth's surface, relying solely for safety and position upon the compass and altimeter, and knowing that somewhere far below them swept the rolling billows of the ocean; but they enjoyed it immensely.

Finally, just as John declared they ought to be close to their objective, the winds freshened and made a great rift in the fog below them, through which they could plainly see the grand old Carolina coast-line a little way ahead and to their right. Between the main shore and the long spine-like series of reefs constituting the cape itself, sparkled the waters of numerous sounds, while the weather-beaten lighthouse on the extreme elbow of Hatteras stood out like a stick of white chalk against the rocky gray background of its support.

All were delighted with the accuracy with which they had made their first guide-post, as John and Mr. Giddings checked their bearings on the chart. The Sky-Bird had behaved splendidly so far, and if she continued in that way they ought to reach their destination well before nightfall, even at the reduced speed at which they had been flying, which had averaged not much more than a hundred miles an hour.

It now became a question whether they should leisurely follow along the inwardly curving coast-line, taking in Savannah, Charleston, and Jacksonville, as guide-posts, or save a hundred miles or more by flying straight across the waters to Miami. As they wished to test out each member's ability to operate by compass rather than by landmarks, it was decided to take the shorter route. So gradually they left the rugged American shore behind and swept farther and farther out to sea.

The Sky-Bird II was flying as steady as a rock. All the bracing wires were tuned to a nicety, the wind humming through them and along the smooth sides of the great creature's body with a whistling monotone which arose and fell with bewitching rhythm as the force fluctuated. The varnish and fire-proofing compound glistened brightly in the sunshine, attracting the attention of numerous seabirds, mostly gulls and ospreys, which followed them at times for short distances, only to be outdistanced. The engine was running at less than half its possible speed, and purring like a contented kitten after a meal of fresh milk. The clouds and fog had cleared away; the sky was as bright now as a sky ever gets; far beneath, the blue-green waters of the Atlantic, flecked with white-topped waves, spread on all sides. Two torpedo-boats, looking like toys, went northward, and tiny white waving specks showed that the Jacks aboard were waving a salute to them. Off seaward a black trailing blot against the horizon showed where some unseen steamship plowed her way between ports. Mr. Giddings and the boys were filled with admiration.

A small airplane is ideal for short flights, joyriding the heavens, or sight-seeing among the clouds; but there is something more majestic and stable about a big machine like the Sky-Bird II which a pilot soon begins to love with a passion he never feels toward the little 'plane. An exquisite community of spirit grows up between machine and pilot; each, as it were, merges into the vitals of the other. The levers and controls are the nervous system of the airplane, through which the will of the aviator may be expressed--expressed in an infinitely fine degree. Indeed, a flying-machine is something entirely apart from and above all other contrivances of man's ingenuity. It is the nearest thing to animate life which man has created. In the air an airplane ceases to be a mere piece of dumb mechanism; it seems to throb with feeling, and is capable not only of primary guidance and control, but actually of expressing a pilot's temperament.

The lungs of the machine--its engines--are the crux of man's mechanical wisdom and skill. Their marvelous reliability and intricacy are almost as awesome as the human anatomy. When both engines are going well, and synchronized to the same speed, the roar of the exhausts develops into one long-sustained and not inharmonious _boom-m-m-m-m!_ It is a song of pleasant melody to the pilot, whose ear is ever pricked to catch the first semblance of a "sharp" or "flat" note telling him that one or more of the twelve cylinders of each busy engine is missing fire and needs a little doctoring.

It was about four o'clock that afternoon when our party first sighted the low, out-jutting sea-coast of Florida. As they came slowly toward it, by reason of their angular course of approach, they could gradually make out a group of green palms here and there along the white stretches of sand, and see clusters of light-colored buildings, piers, shipping, and people moving about. Thus they passed Juno and Palm Beach, and then saw the thicker cluster of fine dwellings of Miami itself, the most southerly city on the Florida mainland.

Paul was guiding the Sky-Bird at this time, and turned her across the limpid waters of Biscayne Bay, cutting a huge circle above the town and slowly swooping downward toward the broad white beach, as he picked out a level stretch for landing. Townspeople who had been watching the strange airplane, so much like a great bird, now ran forward to see it land.

A moment later, with a graceful drop and upward curve, it struck the sandy beach and ran forward lightly until the brakes were applied and it was brought to a standstill.