Read Ebook: Famous Flyers and Their Famous Flights by Wright Jack

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Ebook has 784 lines and 47749 words, and 16 pages

"Well," said Hal, "spill the news." It must be said of Hal that he tried even to master the language of the real boy in his education as a good sport.

"Bill's coming," said Bob, trying to hide his excitement, but not succeeding very well.

"What?" shouted Hal.

"Sure, Captain Bill's coming to spend the summer with us. He's flying here in his own plane."

"Oh, golly," said Hal, and could say no more.

Captain Bill was the boys' patron saint. It had been through his uncle Bill that Bob Martin had developed his mania for flying. Captain Bill Hale was Bob's mother's youngest brother, the adventurous member of the family, who had enlisted in the Canadian army when he was eighteen, at the outbreak of the war. When the United States joined the big battle, he had gone into her air corps to become one of the army's crack flyers, with plenty of enemy planes and blimps to his credit. A crash had put him out of commission at the end of the war, but had not dulled his ardor for flying. For years he had flown his own plane both for commercial and private reasons.

As Bob's hero, he had always written to the boy, telling him of his adventures, encouraging him in his desire to become an aviator. He had never found the time actually to visit for any length of time with his sister and her family, but had dropped down from the sky on them suddenly and unexpectedly every so often.

But now, as Bob explained carefully to Hal, he was coming for the whole summer, and was going to teach him, Bob, to fly.

"Oh, boy, oh, boy, oh, boy," Bob chortled, "what a break! Captain Bill here for months, with nothing to do but fly us around."

Hal did not seem to share his friend's enthusiasm. "Fly us around? Not us, Bob, old boy--you. My mother will never let me go up." Hal's face clouded.

Bob slapped him on the back. "Oh, don't you worry. Your mother will let you fly. She's let you do a lot of things with me that she never let you do before. We'll get her to come around."

But Hal looked dubious. "Not that, I'm afraid. She's scared to death of planes, and gets pale if I even mention flying. But that's all right. I'll do my flying on the ground. You and Bill will have a great time."

"Buck up," said Bob. "Don't cross your bridges until you come to them. We'll work on your mother until she thinks that flying is the safest thing in the world. And it is, too. We'll let Captain Bill talk to her. He can make anybody believe anything. He'll have her so thoroughly convinced that she'll be begging him to take you up in the air to save your life. See if he doesn't! Bill is great!"

Hal was visibly improved in spirits. "When's Bill coming in?" he asked.

"Six tonight," said Bob. "Down at the airport. Dad says that he'll drive us both out there so that we can meet Captain Bill, and drive him back. Gee, wouldn't it be great if he had an autogyro and could land in our back yard?"

"Maybe he'll have one the next time he comes. What kind of plane is he flying?"

"His new Lockheed. It's a monoplane, he says, and painted green, with a reddish nose. It's green because his partner, Pat, wanted it green. Pat's been his buddy since they were over in France together, and anything that Pat says, goes. It's got two cockpits, and dual controls. It's just great for teaching beginners. That means us, Hal, old boy. Listen, you'd better get ready. Dad will be home soon, and will want to start down for the port. Say, does that sound like thunder?"

The boys listened. It did sound like thunder. In fact, it was thunder. "Golly, I hope it doesn't storm. Mother won't let me go if it rains."

Bob laughed. "I wouldn't worry about you getting wet if it stormed," he said. "What about Bill, right up in the clouds? Of course, he can climb over the storm if it's not too bad. But you hurry anyhow. We'll probably get started before it rains, anyway."

At ten minutes to six Hal, Bob and Bob's father were parked at the airport, their necks stretched skyward, watching the darkening, clouded skies for the first hint of a green monoplane. No green monoplane did they see. A few drops of rain splattered down, then a few more, and suddenly the outburst that had been promising for hours poured down. Bob's father, with the aid of the two boys, put up the windows of the car, and they sat fairly snug while the rain teemed down about them. The field was becoming sodden. Crashes of lightning and peals of thunder seemed to flash and roll all about them. All of the airplanes within easy distance of their home port had come winging home like birds to an enormous nest. The three watchers scanned each carefully, but none was the green Lockheed of Captain Bill.

The time passed slowly. Six-thirty; then seven. Finally Mr. Martin decided that they could wait no longer. "He's probably landed some place to wait for the storm to lift," he said. "He can take a taxi over to the house when he gets in."

Reluctant to leave, the boys nevertheless decided that they really couldn't wait all night in the storm for Captain Bill, and so they started for home.

Very wet, and bedraggled, and very, very, hungry, they arrived. Hal's mother was practically hysterical, met him at the door, and drew him hastily into the house.

Mr. Martin and his son ran swiftly from the garage to the back door of their house, but were soaked before they got in. Entering the darkened kitchen, they could hear voices inside.

"Doesn't that sound like--why, it is--that's Bill's voice," shouted Bob. The light switched on, and Bill and Mrs. Martin came into the kitchen to greet their prodigal relatives.

"Hello," said Bill, "where have you people been? You seem to be wet. Shake on it."

"Well, how in the--how did you get in?" shouted Mr. Martin, pumping Bill's hand. "We were waiting in the rain for you for hours."

"I know," said Bill, contritely, "we tried to get in touch with you, but we couldn't. You see, I came in by train."

"Why, sure," laughed the Captain, "Why, aren't you glad to see me without my plane? That's a fine nephewly greeting!"

"Oh, gee, Bill, of course I'm glad to see you, but--well, I've sort of been counting on your bringing your plane."

Bill laughed. "The plane's coming all right," he said. "We had a little accident the other day, and the wing needed repairing. I decided not to wait for it, but to come in on the train to be with you. So Pat McDermott is bringing the plane in in a few days. Is that all right? May I stay?"

"Yup, you can stay," said Bob. "But I want something to eat!"

"Everything's ready," said Mrs. Martin. "You change your clothes, and come right down to dinner."

"Sure thing," said Bob. But he did not change immediately. He stopped first to put two crossed flags in the window, which meant to Hal, "Come right over."

Hal couldn't come right over. He had to be fussed over, steamed, dosed, and put to bed so that he would suffer no ill effects from his soaking that evening. But he was over bright and early the next morning. It had rained all night, and was still raining in a quiet, steady downpour, when Hal appeared at the Martin home, dressed in rubbers, raincoat, muffler, and carrying an umbrella to protect him on his long trek from his own front door to his friend's. Captain Bill would have been startled at the strangely bundled figure of Hal, but he had been warned, and greeted Hal without a blink of an eyelash. In fact, as soon as Hal had been unwrapped from his many coverings, and had spoken to them all, Captain Bill discovered that he was probably going to like this boy after all, and was pleased that his nephew had such good judgment in choosing a friend and companion.

They talked that morning, of course, about airplanes, and the boys told how they had been reading about the famous flyers, and of their hopes to be flyers themselves some day. Bill had been a good listener, and had said very little, but after lunch Hal said what had been on his chest for a long time.

"Captain Bill, we've been doing all the talking. Why don't you tell us a story?"

The Captain laughed. "I think that Bob's heard all my stories. I'm afraid that they're a little moth-eaten now. But how about the two of you telling me a story? Some of the things that you've been reading so carefully. How about it?"

"We can't tell a story the way you can, old scout," said Bob. "Anyway, we asked you first."

"All right, I'm caught," said the Captain. "But I'll tell you a story only on one condition. Each of you has to tell one too. That's only fair, isn't it?"

Bob and Hal looked at each other. Hal spoke. "I'm afraid I won't be able to," he said, blushing. "I can't tell stories, I'm sure I can't."

Captain Bill knew that it would be tactless at that moment to try to convince Hal that he could tell a story. It would only increase the boy's nervousness, and convince him only more of the fact that he could not spin a yarn. So he said, "Well, we'll tell ours first, and you can tell yours later. After you hear how bad ours are, you'll be encouraged." Then Bill had an idea. "How about having a contest?" he said. "The one who tells the best story gets a prize."

"What prize?" asked Bob quickly.

"Now, you take your time. We'll decide on the prize later. We'll have to let Pat in on this, too, I suppose, but he's going to give us some competition. Pat's a great story teller. I'll tell my story first. Then Bob can tell his, after he's had some time for preparation; then Pat will probably want to get his licks in; and Hal will come last. He'll have the benefit of our mistakes to guide him. How about it?"

"All right with me," said Bob, eagerly. He was keen about the idea.

But Hal seemed less enthusiastic. His natural reticence, he felt, would make it torture for him to tell a story. It would be all right just for Bob--and he was even getting well enough acquainted with Captain Bill to tell his story in front of him--but this Pat McDermott--even his name sounded formidable. Captain Bill didn't give him a chance to say aye, yea, or nay, but went on talking.

"I think that we ought to choose subjects that you two know about," said Bill. "How about stories of the aviators--of Famous Flyers and their Famous Flights?"

"Great!" said Bob. "Gee, I want Lindbergh."

"Lindbergh you shall have," said Captain Bill. "What's yours Hal?"

"I don't know," said Hal. "I'll have to think it over. But--I think that I'd like to take the life of Floyd Bennett--if I may."

"Of course," said Bill. "I think that I'll tell about Admiral Byrd--do you think he'd make a good story?"

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