CHAPTER III.A STOWAWAY.
The sun was going down in the west when the Pegasus, as the engine of the clouds was named, rose above Readestown.
Her seven big helices were whirling around with a loud, buzzing sound, and lifting her at the rate of a yard a second.
A shout arose from the people thronging the streets when they observed the flight of the engine, and as the news spread, every one in the city watched the ascension with deep interest.
Barney and Pomp had gone into the deck-house and hastened below to watch the working of the machinery.
Left alone on deck, the detective observed that the Pegasus rode as steadily as if she rested on flanges upon the ground.
At a height of 2,000 feet Frank slackened the speed of the helices until they whirled just fast enough to hold the engine at the desired altitude.
The detective then joined him in the turret.
“Holy smoke! This is a daisy contrivance!” he exclaimed.
“She works just as I designed she should,” replied Frank.
“What are you going to do now?”
“Drive her out over the Atlantic.”
“In the teeth of this gale?”
“Certainly.”
There were several levers in front of the steering wheel beside the compass binnacle, and Frank pulled one of them.
Like the rest this lever was connected with the machinery, and it made an electrical circuit with the driving screw motor, causing them to rotate.
The screws acted upon the air as a metal propeller does in the water, and the engine glided ahead.
Frank glanced at several dials on the wall.
They registered, measured and gauged the different parts of the airship, while various other instruments kept the temperature, gave the altitude, velocity of the wind and so on.
“This is marvelous!” the detective cried, enthusiastically.
“You can feel her advance against the wind,” said Frank, “but when we are going with it at the rate of one hundred miles an hour you would scarcely think we were moving.”
“How can you go with the wind?”
“Why, the atmospheric envelope of the earth consists of numerous stratas, or air currents that blow in all directions,” replied Frank. “If I were in a balloon and had no means of guidance but plenty ballast and lots of gas I could steer it as well as if I had a rudder. This could be done by alternately raising or lowering the balloon into currents of air blowing in the directions I wished to pursue.”
“Ain’t that queer!”
“It is perfectly natural. Now there is a strata called the Solar Current, which blows constantly from the west to the east at a very high altitude. I could send a balloon completely around the world by remaining poised in that current. As it is so high up, however, we cannot make use of it, for we would be at such a great elevation we could not see the steamer Red Star if we met it.”
Just then Barney came in.
“How is the machinery?” Frank asked him.
“Faix, it do be wurkin’ as shlick as a phwistle!” replied the Celt. “An’ I suspishey that she’ll be afther gallopin’ troo ther clouds beyant wid the agility av a kangaroo.”
“Take charge of the wheel and hold her due east. I’ll run down below and observe the actions of her dynamo and machinery myself.”
He beckoned the detective to follow him.
Leaving Barney steering, they went out on deck.
The panorama of the landscape below looked like an enormous oil painting.
Everything took on the most diminutive size, and in the far distance they caught sight of the great lakes.
The intense solitude was occasionally broken by the shrill blasts of steam whistles in factories and locomotives, the clang of bells and other loud, distinct sounds.
A few high-flying birds were seen circling around not far away, and a strong wind was vainly opposing the engine.
Passing into the deck-house Frank and the detective found themselves in a room used for a cabin.
On one side stood a row of bunks, and at the other a staircase leading down below.
A door in the partition gave access to a combined kitchen and dining saloon over which Pomp presided as cook.
Every room was fitted up with incandescent electric lamps and pony motor fan-wheels, while the furnishing was luxurious.
Descending the stairs they found themselves in the hold.
It was divided into three compartments.
The one forward was a general storeroom for tools, arms, ammunition, duplicate parts of the engine and similar things; the next room contained food and water enough for a long trip, and the rear compartment held the machinery.
It was a simple arrangement.
The base of each helix shaft was furnished with a powerful motor which only required an electric current to turn it.
This current was derived from a small, light dynamo, which in turn was operated by an oil engine.
The same engine and dynamo gave power to the electric lighting machine, and a large motor connected with the machinery which revolved the screw shaft.
Should the occasion require, the power could be turned into a small motor, to which the water screw was coupled, for work in the sea, if they desired to navigate the water.
Pomp was busy oiling the bearings when Frank and his companion entered the engine-room.
“Barney says everything is satisfactory, Pomp,” said Frank.
“Spec’s it am, sah,” grinned the coon. “She done buck de win’?”
“Like a battering ram. I’ll examine her.”
“Fo’ shuah, honey.”
The inventor began his inspection.
He had not looked far before he received a tremendous shock of surprise.
Crouching in a corner behind a barrel of oil he caught sight of a man, who, by some means, had stowed himself away on the engine.
“By thunder, a stowaway!” he cried.
“Holy smoke!” gasped Reynard. “Here’s a daisy game!”
“Fo’ de Lawd sake, whar am he?” demanded Pomp, in startled tones.
Frank pounced upon the man, caught him by the back of the neck and hauled him out of his covert.
A cry of alarm escaped the fellow upon finding himself discovered, and he rose to his feet with a scared look.
He was a man of about thirty, attired in a seedy suit of clothes, a dilapidated stove-pipe hat, and wore a brown beard and mustache.
“Oh!” he roared, struggling to break away from Frank. “Don’t touch me. I’m crazy! Look out! I bite! Ha! ha! See the demons. The air is full of them! Back, you imps, back I say!”
He put up his fists and began to punch wind.
A cynical smile crossed Frank’s face.
“So you’re looney, eh?” he asked, sarcastically.
“Completely off my base!” asserted the man, confidentially.
“You lie! You are simply pretending to be a crank in order to avoid punishment.”
“That’s a daisy game!” laughed the detective.
“Oh, but you’re mistaken!” said the man, in injured tones. “I just escaped from the asylum. I’m a dead bug; on the level, I am.”
“What induced you to enter my shop and stow yourself away aboard of this airship—a desire to navigate the clouds?”
“No,” replied the stranger. “You carried me up before I could get off again. I—hey! Give me that——”
“What is this book?” queried Frank, hauling it out of the man’s pocket and glancing at the pages.
The man strove to snatch it away, but Frank was too quick for him and prevented it.
One glance at the contents was enough for him—the book was filled with drawings of the mechanism of the airship.
“He’s a thief!” cried Frank, flushing with indignation. “He has simply come aboard to steal my patents. Here is the proof!”
He held up the book to the view of his companions.
The man slunk back with a scowl of alarm on his face, for he realized that his real motive was betrayed, and that all the contradictions he could make would be of no avail in the face of such damaging evidence.
For a moment a deep silence ensued.
“Holy snake!” ejaculated the detective. “That’s a daisy game!”
“Frow de dirty white trash overboard!” indignantly roared Pomp.
Frank tore the book to pieces and flung the fragments out one of the windows, after which he turned to the man and said:
“Your treachery shall be severely punished, sir.”
“But I’m a maniac!” protested the fellow, in a vain attempt to convince them that he was not accountable for his actions. “I’m covered with snakes! Take ‘em off! Don’t you see ‘em squirming?”
Frank caught him by the neck, interrupting him.
“That will do!” he cried, angrily. “Insane people don’t usually do such very practical and profitable things as you have done. Consider yourself my prisoner, sir.”
“I’ll be hanged if I will!”
“You can’t escape from here.”
“I can’t, eh? Well, I’ll own the engine!”
As he said this a desperate light leaped into his eyes and he pulled a knife from his breast-pocket.
Making a rush at Frank he aimed a stab at him, which the young inventor barely had time to avoid by stepping back.
Pomp picked up an iron bar and the detective drew his revolver and aimed it at the man.
Seeing the peril he was in the rascal rushed for the stairs, pursued by the three, and dashed up to the cabin.
Out on deck he ran like a deer.
Frank and his companions followed him.
He headed for the pilot-house, and flinging open the door he dashed into the room behind Barney.