CHAPTER IXWhen the Dawn Came
“Kinder looks like we’d hit civilization again, eh, ole hoss?”
With the dawn coming along thus high up above the surface of the earth, it was still night down below, save where numerous electric lights, on the streets, and along the railroad lines, especially within the limits of the yards, dispelled the shadows. Some of these were continually shifting; and since Jack had dropped down latterly until they were not more than five hundred feet above the level ground, only for their hearing being overwhelmed by the noise of their own speeding ship, they might have easily heard the puffing of switching engines, together with the rumble of many freight cars, possibly the loud whistles of some factory warning its employees it was time for them to be thinking of getting their breakfast, preparatory to another long spell in the cotton mills, or other places of labor.
“Here’s Greenville, where we strike off on our own,” Jack announced, as he made a right turn, and depending entirely upon the needle of the compass, took up a new line of flight—no signalling for switches, puffing of a steam engine for a start, nothing save a turn of the wrist; and without the least friction the airship was heading in the direction of Charleston, still far distant as the crow flies.
The lights began to grow dim in their rear, and before long the last vestige of the bustling South Carolina city faded out of sight.
But undoubtedly the dawn was steadily advancing, so that already Perk had been able to get fugitive glimpses of the ground they were so steadily passing over. He knew he would be feeling better when able to watch the panorama spread out like a vast chart under the swiftly speeding air craft, with towns, villages, and hamlets following in each other’s train; the country itself dotted with innumerable cabins occupied by negro workers of the wide stretching plantations, where cotton, corn, and perhaps tobacco, would appear to be the staple crops harvested.
It was indeed worth while watching when daylight came upon the surface of the earth, and the sun could be seen in all his glory by those who had the privilege of an elevated observatory.
Perk settled himself down for a period of “loafing,” having no particular duties needing attention. His main thought was concerned with the fact that they were swiftly passing over South Carolina, and getting closer to their main objective, where the remainder of their orders would be handed over to them as per prearranged agreement.
He indulged in numerous speculations as to just when and how Jack would make his attack upon the entrenched forces of the defiant clique, latterly giving Uncle Sam so much bother; and persisting in their thus far successful smashing of the patrol boat blockade along the coast, through the agency of numerous swift air smuggling craft—how many there might be Perk had no knowledge.
Well, just wait until he and his best pal got fairly started in the good work, and possibly some of those defiant pilots would be numbered among the “has beens,” having mysteriously vanished from the ken of their fellow law-breakers.
“I shore doant want to brag,” Perk told himself, as modestly as he could find the heart to be; “but jest the same I been along with Jack more’n a few times, when we run up agin sech gay birds; an’ it was allers the same ole story over an’ over agin. Right naow a good many cells in Atlanta, Leavenworth, an’ a few more penitentiaries air filled by lads what reckoned nawthin’ could beat ’em at their pet game; yet there they be, behind stone walls, an’ nary one chanct in a thousand to break away. Huh! hope hist’ry repeats in this new adventure we’re right naow embarkin’ on, that’s all.”
Such confidence in a comrade bordered on the sublime, yet according to his light Perk felt he was justified in believing Jack to be at the head of his class—without a peer, yet modest withal, shrinking from praise, and content to let the heroes of unsurpassed air flights, as well as all manner of broken records for speed, endurance, and like exploits, bask in the spotlight, while he was satisfied to do his full duty, and afterwards remain unknown to fame.
Jack apparently still had a little fear lest something his best pal managed to do, when off his guard, might throw all their labors into the discard. On this account, and because they were now bearing down close to an important point in their schedule, he took occasion to once more delicately hint along such lines.
“For perhaps the last time, partner,” he went on to say, soberly; “we’ve both got to get a firm grip on ourselves, and try to actuallylivethe parts we’re about to play. Let’s consider we’re actors, with a critical audience in front, watching closely to see if we leave any break back of which our real character may be seen.”
“Huh! I like thataway o’ puttin’ it, Big Boss,” snorted Perk, without the slightest hesitation; although he must have suspected that Jack was trying to impress this point particularly on his, Perk’s mind—“I’ll try my darnedest to keep athinkin’ a thousand eyes and ears they be on to me, searchin’ fo’ some knothole in the fence to peep through, an’ gimme the laugh straight. Go on an’ say some more ’long them lines, buddy—I kin stand it okay.”
“An actor to be a success must have the power, the ability to throw off his own ways and character, to assume whatever queer quirks marking the role of the person he is pretending to be. Try and forget you were Yankee born, and swap places with a son of Dixie, filled with veneration for those heroes in gray, soldiers of Lee, Jackson, Forrest, and all the other leaders of the sacred Lost Cause. You can do it, I’m dead certain, if you keep your mind steadfastly on that business alone, and forget a lot of other less essential matters.”
“Shore I kin, an’ I mean to, partner—yeou wait up an’ see haow I’ll pull the wool over their eyes—I’m Wally Corkendall, an’ I was borned an’ brought up in Birmin’ham, where them bully stories o’ the colored folks that make yeou laugh like fun keep acomin’ from right along. Yessuh! I done tole yeou I may be a man o’ the world; but Dixie is my dwellin’-place, Birmin’ham my ole hometown.”
So Jack let it go at that, and indulged in the hope his pal would not fall down in a pinch—it meant a matter of life and death with them, in view of the desperate type of men with whom they would soon be at close grips.