For a time Sparky and Mary sat in the dark silently watching the torch-lit procession of great canoes. To Mary it was a fascinating and fearsome spectacle.
Suddenly Sparky let out a low exclamation. “Thunderation!”
At that he jumped from the log on which he had been sitting to kick at their half-burned-out campfire until the coals glowed red again. Then, gathering up an armful of dry-as-tinder leaves, he threw them on the coals.
For a space of seconds a column of dense smoke rose straight toward the stars. Then, as the whole mass burst into flames, all about them, the native huts, the airplanes, and the jungle at their backs stood out in bold relief.
“Sparky!” Mary exclaimed, shrinking back. “Why did you do that?”
“I’ll meet any man half way,” was the reply. “That is, anyone but Hitler’s mob and those dirty, little Japs.”
“But those men are savages!”
“Who knows? What’s a savage anyway,” Sparky’s voice sounded strange. “Every man is a human being. Those are men. Brazil is our ally at war and this is Brazil. When men come to you singing and waving torches, you just must meet them half way.”
By this time the dugout canoes were pulling up to the shore. The chant had ceased. In its place was only the murmur of voices. The torches still flamed.
Soon a procession came moving like a great, twisting, glowing serpent toward the campfire.
“Sparky!” Mary crowded close. “It’s too much. I can’t stand it!”
“Steady, girl!” Sparky’s voice was calm. His hands still gripped the tommy-gun.
As the procession came closer, they saw that most of the natives were all but naked, that some carried rifles and others spears and that they were led by a little man wearing striped trousers, a bright jacket and a sword. They did not pause until, as if in a high-school drill, they had ranged themselves in three semicircular rows before the fire. The little man stood at the center and three steps before them.
Mary tried to think what one swing of Sparky’s spitting tommy-gun would do to those rows and shuddered.
At last the little man spoke. His words came in slow, precise English.
“You are from the United States?”
Sparky and Mary Watched the Natives Come Closer
Sparky and Mary Watched the Natives Come Closer
Sparky and Mary Watched the Natives Come Closer
“That’s right, pardner,” Sparky agreed.
“The United States and Brazil are united against a common enemy.”
“Right again.”
“As our ally I salute you.” The little man’s hand shot up in a salute.
Thrilled to her fingertips, Mary managed to join Sparky in a salute.
The little man spoke a single word in a strange tongue and instantly the circle of natives dropped to their knees in a position of ease.
“Just like that,” Mary whispered. She wanted terribly to cry.
With a courteous gesture the little man invited Mary and Sparky to resume their positions on the log. Then he sat down at Sparky’s side.
“I,” he said, “am Doctor Salazar. I have studied in your country. Being not unskilled in the medical profession and also possessed of an interest in native life, I was sent to this place that I might make friends of the natives. This, you will see, I’ve done.”
“You are wonderful,” Mary exclaimed. “And you are a doctor.”
“Yes, that is my profession.”
“One member of our party has been injured, how seriously we can’t tell,” Sparky explained.
“I am at your service. Shall we have a look at this man?”
They rose and walked over to Don’s side. He had been sleeping but now stared at them with questioning eyes.
“We have brought you a doctor,” said Mary.
“And not a medicine man either,” Sparky laughed.
With practised fingers the little man went over Don from head to toe. “No bones broken,” was his diagnosis. “Probably three ribs cracked. When his chest is taped up, he can be moved.”
“Good! We’ll take him to Para in the morning.”
“In that large plane, I suppose,” said the doctor.
“Yes.”
“And the other plane?” asked the doctor.
“If your men will help us, we can load the motors in our good plane,” said Sparky.
“It shall be done. You are Americans. I am an American. We all are Americans.”
“You’re right. We all are!” Mary exclaimed.
“The motors shall go,” said the doctor. “But that which remains?”
Sparky shrugged. “In a war there will always be losses.”
“My men and I can take it in pieces. We shall float it to the Rio Negro. There it can be put on a steamer. It should be in Para perhaps in two weeks. So there you are.” The doctor made another bow.
“Indeed, you are wonderful!” Mary exclaimed.
“It is all for the great cause. Speed the victory.” The doctor clicked his heels and saluted.
The salute was returned in good measure.
And so it was arranged. Scarcely had the red of dawn disappeared from the sky when the Lone Star rose to greet the sun, then began winging its way toward the far-away city of Para.
Four hours later, far above the clouds, they flew across the broad waters of the Para river at its mouth, then began circling down to the city of Para.
First to catch Mary’s eye was the city’s ancient fortifications. As they circled lower she caught the gleam of the cathedral’s roof. The governor’s palace and other public buildings stood out from among the royal palms. Last but not least were the hundreds of homes, each with its lovely little garden surrounded by palms.
The broad public garden caught her eye, then the airport. So they came circling down to ask for and receive permission to land.
As soon as they were down an ambulance was called and Don, with Janet in attendance, was whisked away to the hospital.
“I’m staying with the ship,” Sparky said to Mary.
“Sure,” Mary agreed. “Can’t take any chances this time.”
“That’s right. Besides there’s a lot to be done. The motors from my ship must be unloaded and arrangements made for the repairing and assembling of the other plane when it arrives—if it does,” Sparky added gloomily.
“Oh! It will!” Mary exclaimed. “I’d trust that little doctor with my life.”
“Okay. We’ll hope for it,” Sparky agreed. “You just hop out somewhere and get yourself a good, square meal.”
“One good Brazilian feed,” she laughed.
“That’s it. One dinner in every land. That’s our motto.”
“I’ll bring you a dinner on a tray, buy tray, dishes, and all. When we get going you can eat the food and throw the dishes into the sea.”
“We’ll be taking off in just a couple of hours, if I can get our papers all cleared up, so don’t admire the scenery too long.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.”
Even at this strange corner of the world the war was much in evidence. Soldiers were all over the field. Army planes from many lands came and went. At the gate stood two guards. A smile and her uniform were all the passes she needed.
Not so the youth in tattered clothes who stood outside the gate, gazing in at Mary’s big plane.
“That’s some plane you’ve got.” He tipped his seedy hat.
“You’re an American, too.” She smiled.
“Yes—I—guess so. At least I used to be.” He did not smile. “Now, well, I guess you’d say I’m sort of a tropical tramp. Been down here for five years.”
“But,” his voice rose, “Boy! That plane of yours. Must be the best there is!”
“Ever do any flying?” she asked. She should be going on but this boy interested her.
“Sure—I’ve flown quite a bit, here and in U.S.A., too.”
“Why don’t you join up?”
“Your outfit?” He grinned broadly. “You’re a girl.”
“Oh, but there are a lot more men than women flying for the Ferry Command.”
“But then,” her voice dropped, “they probably wouldn’t take you.”
“Why?” His shoulders squared.
“That’s just it,” was the quick reply. “You’re too fit. They’d want you for combat duty. You can’t make our outfit unless you’re too old for combat or there’s something a little wrong with you. Sparky, my fellow-pilot, has a hole in his eardrum. Combat wouldn’t take him, but Ferry did.”
“But say!” She gave him a good, square look. “Why don’t you ship back to U.S.A. and get into a uniform? Afraid to go back?”
“No, just ashamed. I ran away. My mother’s a peach. She really is.”
“Go back and sign up. Get into uniform, then breeze back home. You’ll make a hit.”
“Well, I—”
He broke short off to leap sideways, take three flying steps, then swing his arm to knock something from a stranger’s hand. Without knowing why, Mary followed on the run. It was lucky that she did, for the angry man flashed a knife. He slashed at the boy once and drew blood. His second blow, better aimed, might have been fatal had not Mary done a flying leap to knock his arm high in the air and send the knife flying away.
Instantly they were surrounded by soldiers. The youth and the man were seized. Two soldiers stepped toward Mary.
“What eez zis all about?” one asked.
“I—I really don’t know,” was her faltering answer.
The soldier looked at her in astonishment. “You might have been keeled. Now you say, ‘I know nothing.’”
“It’s a fact for all that.” She smiled in spite of herself. “I—I do things like that sometimes.”
“I’ll tell you what it’s about,” the boy broke in, holding up a bloody arm. “That man,” he pointed to the stranger, “is a spy. He was taking pictures of that big plane. That’s an American plane and I’m an American. He can’t get by with that!”
“Good for you!” The words were on Mary’s lips. She did not say them. Instead she bent down and picked up something black that gave off a bright gleam. “He’s telling the truth,” she said in as quiet a tone as she could command. “Here’s the proof, his camera. That boy knocked it from his hand.”
“It’s a lie!” the man snarled. “I never saw the thing before!”
“It’s one of those costly miniature cameras,” Mary went on. “It takes a hundred pictures as easy as firing a machine gun. And sometimes it’s twice as deadly.” She handed it to the soldier. “Have the film developed. The pictures will speak for themselves.”
“It’s a lie,” the man growled, trying to break away.
“He calls himself Joe Stevens now,” said the boy, swabbing his bleeding arm with a soiled handkerchief. “I knew him in Manos. That was before we entered the war. He was a rubber trader then. They called him Schnieder.”
“We’ll look into this,” said the officer.
To Mary he said, “This boy needs attention. There’s a Red Cross first-aid station up that way a block.”
“I’ll have him fixed up,” said Mary.
“And will you vouch for his return to the station at the airport gate?”
“Absolutely.”
“Come on then,” the soldier spoke to Stevens who had once been Schnieder, then they marched away.
“It’s nothing,” the boy said, hiding his hand. “I’ll fix it.”
“No,” said Mary. “We’re going to the first-aid station. Then you’re going to take me to some place where I can get a swell dinner.”
“Oh, so that’s how it is?” His face lit up. “Come on, then, let’s go.”
An hour later, with his arm neatly bandaged, the boy sat opposite her, smiling. The grand dinner he had promised was coming to an end. It had been all she had dreamed of and more. They were having their black coffee and ice cream.
Taking a pencil from her purse she wrote on a card then handed it to him. “That,” she said, “is my permanent address. I’m going on a rather long journey. I may not come back. We never know. But if I do, I’d like to have something nice waiting for me. Send me your picture when you get in uniform, won’t you?”
“Well, I—” He swallowed hard. “Yes, I will, if I make it.” That was all he said.
At the airport gate he put out a hand for a good stout handclasp.
“Ships that pass in the night.” His voice was husky.
“Yes,” she replied quickly. “Fighting ships that are going to put things to rights in this old world of ours.” At that she turned to march away.
“By the way,” he called after her. “Just in case you might like to know, my name’s Jerry Sikes—”
“Thanks, Jerry.” She smiled. Then without thinking she added, “I’ll be seeing you.”
One more hour passed. Just as they were ready to take off, Mary brought Sparky his dinner on a tray.
“It’s paid for, tray and all,” she said.
“Good! Then, let’s go.” He led the way into the cabin. “They say it brings good luck if you throw your dishes into the sea,” he laughed.
Mary did not laugh. One word Sparky had spoken stuck in her mind.
“Luck,” she whispered to herself. “We may need it, all kinds of luck.” She could not quite forget that they had already lost one plane. Just now she had visions of herself on a rubber raft in mid-Atlantic, casting a line in the vain hope of catching a fish.
Shaking herself free from these disturbing thoughts, Mary checked the No. 1 card Sparky handed her and said, “It’s okay,” then watched him check his gas.
Working together like the well-trained team that they were, they threw on a switch here to release it, then snapped on another there, only to reach for one more switch. Mary nodded to the mechanic waiting outside. He nodded back, then held up a fire bottle. One engine coughed, then the other. Mary reached for two small levers, Sparky eased the throttle back to one thousand, then nodded to the mechanic. The mechanic removed the chocks from before their wheels. Sparky eased his plane slowly down the runway. They picked up speed. Faster—faster—faster they sped and then that magic word, “up,” and they were away.
They were not off for Africa, not yet. Their way led along the coast toward Natal, the jumping off place.
Sometimes they were far out over the sea and then again the beauty of tropical forests lay beneath them. It was a glorious trip.
Just at sunset a white spot appeared before them and Mary knew that this lap of their journey was nearing its end.
“There are good American mechanics at Natal,” Sparky said. “They’ll give the old ship a real going over. We’ll get a few hours of good, sound sleep. And then—”
“We’ll be off.” Mary thrilled to the tips of her toes. “Off for the Old World. We’re going abroad, Sparky! Just think! Really going abroad!”
“It’s just another trip for me,” Sparky laughed low. “But if you get a kick out of it, that’s just fine.”
“Get a kick out of it!” she exclaimed. “Of course I will. If the time ever comes when I no longer get a kick out of things, I’ll be ready to die.”
“Guess you’re right at that,” Sparky agreed. “But then, what’s a thrill to you may be just another headache for someone else. I, too, have my big moments.”
“Let me know when you have one?” she asked.
“I might, at that,” he agreed.
“There’s a good little hotel run just for American women at Natal,” he said. “Run by an old lady called Aunt Polly.”
“Aunt Polly—sounds like a parrot,” Mary laughed.
“She’s got one, too,” said Sparky. “She keeps a nice place. I’ll run over there soon’s we land.
“Set your alarm, for I’ll be after you at two A.M. We’ll not sleep going over so don’t lie awake thinking. Hit the pillow fast and hard. That’s my motto.”
“Fast and hard it shall be,” Mary agreed.
At that they began circling for a landing.
At 2:15 that night they had breakfast sitting on stools in a little all-night stand.
“Lots of coffee and plenty of oatmeal with cream,” was Mary’s order.
“And good, brown toast with well-done bacon,” Sparky added.
“Nervous?” he asked as her fingers shook a bit.
“Yes.”
“That’s fine. I wouldn’t give a plugged nickel for a partner that didn’t have nerves. It’s part of our equipment. Keeps us on our toes. But you’re not scared?”
“Just a little.”
“Don’t be!” He grinned. “It’s only a step.”
“Pretty long step.” She smiled back at him.
“Eighteen hundred miles, plus, and water under us all the way. What could be sweeter? And we’ll be flying out to meet the dawn.”
“Oh, Sparky!” she exclaimed. “That does sound swell! I never did like night. Just to think that we’re hurrying away to meet the sun that is just popping along to meet us! That sure is something.”
The food was excellent so she ordered a lunch “to go” and, producing a gallon thermos bottle, ordered it filled with coffee.
“That,” said Sparky, “will be frozen solid. We’re going to be flying up there among the stars.”
“Oh, no, it won’t,” she gave him a sly smile. “There are some advantages in having a gal for a co-pilot. One of the advantages is a hot lunch half way across.”
“Tasting is believing.” He was a skeptic.
“Wait and see.”
“I’ll wait.”
Ten minutes later they were at the airport and with their arrival a burden seemed to fall upon Mary’s slender shoulders. She had started out light-heartedly enough to do, with her companion, Janet, what no woman of the Ferry Command had ever done before, to ferry a big ship half way round the world. What was more, their ship was to carry a light cargo of vital war equipment. Now her companion was gone. Sparky had taken her place. They had started out forty planes strong. Now one plane was out of action and thirty-eight were a full day ahead of them.
“We’ll have to go it alone,” she said, speaking half to herself and half to Sparky.
“That’s it,” Sparky agreed. “The Fates have arranged that.”
“We’ll Have to Go It Alone,” Said Mary
“We’ll Have to Go It Alone,” Said Mary
“We’ll Have to Go It Alone,” Said Mary
“And our cargo is priceless. That’s what the Major said.”
“Priceless,” he agreed. “It’s quite as important that it should arrive safely as, well perhaps, as it is for all those big bombers ahead of us to go through.
“But, Mary,” his voice changed, “don’t think of it that way. You’ll tighten up if you do. That might prove fatal. You have to be relaxed, flexible, ready for anything. That’s how you have to be.”
“I—I’ll try to forget that cargo,” she agreed.
“Well,” he breathed, “here’s our ship all primed up and rarin’ to go. Come on. Let’s climb up.”
Once again he handed her the “Form One” card. This time she studied it with supreme care. It told her that the engines were in perfect order, that the tubes of carbon dioxide snow for fire prevention were full as were their oxygen tubes, and that fuel and oil supply were at their maximum.
When she had studied the card, she nodded to Sparky, and at once, he began thumbing the oil gage.
“Do you always check your oil supply?” she asked.
“Always,” was the emphatic reply, “regardless of the report on the card, test your fuel. If you want to keep on living, you’ll always do that. Men are human. An attendant may read your report, note that your No. 1 tank is short a hundred gallons, record that he is putting that amount in, then discover that he has but fifty gallons to spare. He forgets to record the change and—”
“Right out over an endless forest your engine coughs and dies. No gas—I see,” she replied soberly.
“Gas and oil okay,” Sparky murmured. Then in silence he flipped on the ignition and gas, set the electric primer going, counted five, allowed it to snap off, then nodded to his mechanic. The mechanic grinned as he held up a carbon-dioxide fire extinguisher.
“That’s one more thing,” Sparky warned. “Don’t ever start twin motors unless someone is near with the fire bottle. And don’t you let me do it!”
“Is that so bad?” Mary asked.
“Worst in the world,” Sparky exploded. “If one motor fails to start popping, you’ll have a fire in your exhaust pipe.... A fire bottle will put it out in a hurry. But if there’s no fire bottle your ship will go up in smoke. A fire of high octane gas is something to think about!”
He started the energizing wheel going, waited a space of seconds, then threw on the fuel-booster switch. First the right engine began coughing. Mary worked her two levers that enriched the fuel mixture. Sparky eased his throttle back to one thousand, then nodded to the mechanic. The mechanic removed the chocks from before the wheels, and the big ship started to move.
“We’re off!” Mary thought with a little choking sensation at her throat.
Sparky cursed some small, foreign plane that, taxiing across the field, caused him to swing sharply to the right.
“Looks like he did that on purpose,” said Mary.
“May have, at that,” was the reply. “There are some Hitler sympathizers down this way.
“Well,” he sighed ten seconds later. “I fooled him. Now the runway’s clear, so here we go.” The powerful motors roared in unison. They rose sharply toward the stars. Ten minutes later they were out over the blue-black sea and still slowly climbing.
“The sea is so black,” Mary thought. “The sky is all filled with night. Hours of this! How can I bear it?”
Then, as a sense of real joy, the feeling that must come to a night-flying bird, passed over her, she whispered, “But we’re rushing east to meet the dawn.”
“Get on your oxygen mask,” Sparky commanded, crashing into her dream. “We’re going up where there isn’t any weather and mighty little air.”
Their masks were attached by rubber tubes to pipes running from the oxygen storage tanks. When Mary had pulled on her mask she sighed, “Ah! That’s great! Isn’t it wonderful that they should mould our masks to fit our faces!”
“It’s a grand idea,” Sparky agreed, “but you’ll get tired enough of it before we greet that dawn of yours. We’re going up to twenty thousand feet and stay there for hours. We’ll make better time that way and there’ll be no bumps. You can even sleep if you want to.”
“Sleep!” Mary’s voice rose. “I’d never do that. Suppose you fell asleep, or—or something happened to you!”
“I never get sleepy and nothing ever happens.” Sparky settled back in his place. “Talk when you feel like it,” he drawled. “I like the sound of your voice.”
“Oh, you do,” Mary laughed.
They climbed to twenty thousand feet. It seemed to Mary that she could feel the intense cold creeping through their cabin’s walls and her four-inch-thick suit of wool, leather and fur. But this, she knew, was pure imagination.
As they zoomed along through the blue with the black ocean far below and the stars apparently scattered all about them, she felt very little desire to talk. She just wanted to think.
Her mind went back to childhood days. Happy days they had been, those days with her father. School shut out much of this. And then had come college. College vacations found her flying, first with her father, then alone. She had learned about airplane engines from the ground up and had even become an expert with a machine gun.
“That,” she told herself, “was Providence, a dress rehearsal for war.”
As if he had been reading her thoughts, Sparky said, “Mary, there were a dozen or more who volunteered for this job you’re doing now. I wouldn’t want you to think I don’t like your work. I do. You’re swell, but how come they picked on you? You’re about the youngest of the lot.”
“That’s right,” Mary agreed, “but I’ve had more hours of solo flight than any of them. Fifteen hundred, to be exact.”
“Fifteen hundred?” Sparky whistled. “Practically flew from your cradle!”
“Nope—started when I was sixteen. You see, Dad is as much at home in the air as on the ground.”
“And you take after him?”
“Sure. Why not? What’s more, I know a lot about airplane engines and machine guns.”
“Handy man with tools, eh?” Sparky drawled.
“Try me.” Mary did not laugh. “Who knows? This job of ours may call for all the tricks we know before it’s done.”
“Guess that’s right,” Sparky agreed. “And I sure am glad you’re on the job.”
After that they once more lapsed into silence. The miles and the stars flew by. There were times when Mary was plagued by the illusion that somehow their ship had stopped traveling, that they were there, suspended in space, their motors roaring, but taking them nowhere. At such times she felt an all but over-powering desire to scream, for her overwrought imagination was telling her that the motors would roar on until the fuel was gone, then they would crash into the sea.
At times she felt drowsy, at others she was so wide awake that she wanted to leave her seat for a walk. This she knew was not entirely impossible since a bottle of oxygen attached to her tube and slung over her shoulder would give her freedom of movement. But this would call for more exertion than she felt like, and she lapsed back into sleepiness.
Then, little by little, she found herself drifting into a light and hilarious mood. She wanted to sing. She did hum little snatches of funny songs she knew. “The Bear Went Over The Mountain,” “The Old Gray Mare, She Ain’t What She Used To Be,” and “Clementine.”
From time to time Sparky looked at her and growled into his mask.
“Oh, Sparky,” she cried at last, “I’m tired of this mask. Can’t I take it off?”
She meant this only as a joke but Sparky roared, “For heaven’s sake! No! You wouldn’t last half a moment.”
Nothing daunted, she told him a rather long, funny story.
“Is that supposed to be a joke?” he growled. “If so, where’s the point?”
She began to realize that something was wrong.
“Either Sparky has turned into a terrible crab or I’m plain crazy,” she told herself half in despair.
From hilarity she went into gloomy foreboding. Then, of a sudden, she sprang out of both. She knew what had happened. Both she and Sparky were drunk on oxygen. They had been up high too long. They should drop to lower levels at once. But how was she ever to make Sparky see this? In the morose mood of a partially intoxicated man, he would perhaps resist all her suggestions.
After a moment’s thought she believed she had the very idea. “Sparky,” she said, “I’m hungry.”
“Suck your thumb, like a bear,” he growled.
“The coffee’s hot, a whole gallon of it.”
“It’s frozen solid. I told you it would be. Know what the temperature outside is? Thirty-five below.”
“Yes, I know, but that coffee’s still hot.”
“How come?”
“That’s my secret.”
“Then keep it.”
“I’ll bet you five dollars it’s hot, yes, and the bottle of soup, too.”
“You got five dollars?”
“Sure I have.”
“All—all right, it’s a bet.”
“Sure it is. Do come on down to five thousand feet and I’ll show you.”
“Okay, here we go. But I get the five.”
They started down. Anxiously Mary watched the recording gage. Twenty thousand, fifteen thousand, ten, eight—she opened a ventilator, then another. At five thousand they leveled off. When at last the air was changed, they dragged off their masks.
“Whew!” Sparky breathed deeply. “That’s great!”
“You don’t know half of it,” said Mary.
“Where’s your hot coffee?”
“I’ll get it.” She did. When the cork was removed steam rose from the bottle.
“Well, I’ll be!” Sparky exclaimed. “You win! How do you do it?”
“Little electric heat, that’s all.” She pointed at the connections at the base of the thermos bottle.
“Say!” Sparky beamed. “From now on, you and I travel together.”
“At least for some little time,” she agreed with a wise smile.
It was a grand little lunch they enjoyed there above the black waters of the Atlantic. Mary flew the ship while Sparky drank hot coffee and soup, and munched hot cheese sandwiches. Then he took the controls while she carried on with the lunch box.
But when it was all over and they began once more to climb, weighty problems once more bore down upon Mary’s tired brain. Would they again climb high and fly too far, then become oxygen-drunk again? She hated to ask Sparky and yet—
Thousands of weary miles lay ahead, miles where danger lurked all the way. Then, too, there was their precious cargo. Would it reach its destination safely?
“It must,” she whispered. She reached for her mask and then Sparky spoke.
“Forget the mask,” Sparky was saying. “We’ve got loads of gas. Dawn will soon be here. We’ll stay five thousand feet. Go back and get a little rest.”
Reluctantly she obeyed. Having wrapped herself in the eiderdown robe, she fell fast asleep. But not for long. She awoke with a start from a disturbing dream to find an eerie light shining down upon her.
“The ship’s on fire!” she thought tumbling out of her robe.
She sprang to a window to whisper, “We have met the dawn.”
It was true. The sun, a red disk, rolled along the horizon. The sea and the sky were all ablaze with light.
“Sparky!” she exclaimed. “It’s wonderful!”
“Is it?” he asked sleepily. “Just another sunrise. That’s all it seems to be. But look, Mary, you’ve been a peach. I suppose I should apologize for being gruff with you back there when we were way up high.”
“Oh, no!” Mary exclaimed. “Don’t ever apologize. Your friends don’t demand it, your enemies don’t deserve it. Besides I never quarrel with people when they’re drunk.” A teasing smile played about the corners of her mouth.
“Who’s been drunk?” He shot her a quick look. “You think I’m crazy? I’m not a drinking man, but if I were, I’d be plain mad if I drank before a trip like this.”
“Oh! So you weren’t drunk?” She threw back her head for a good laugh. “You were all the same.”
“What!” Sparky seemed ready to leave the controls to crown her.
“Yes, you were drunk and so was I. I was happy and you were sad. That’s how people get when they are drunk.”
“Say, are you crazy?”
“No, Sparky, I’m not.” She laughed again. “We were having an oxygen drunk. It might have been dangerous. I realized the danger just in time. Too much oxygen, too long, that’s all.”
“Too much oxygen, too long,” he repeated after her. “I’ve heard of that happening but just think of an oldtimer like me getting caught with it!”
“The bigger they are the harder they fall.” She favored him with a good laugh. “But it’s not really strange,” she added soberly. “Our trip, this far, has been a hard one. You’ve worked long hours. You were too tired to think. I was fresh. That made all the difference. And just for that, how would you like to crawl back for a few winks?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He offered her the controls. “But promise me that if anything unusual occurs, seaplanes show up, or anything like that, you’ll call me.”
“I’ll call you,” she agreed.
Sparky’s sleep was long and peaceful. Never had Mary enjoyed herself half so much as on that morning guiding the big ship through the blue sky over a sea as dark and mysterious as death.
An hour passed, two, three hours. Sometimes she wondered in a vague sort of way about their secret cargo. Would it go through safely and would she be with the ship to its journey’s end? Just then none of these things appeared to matter much. It was good to live. That, for the moment, was enough.
There was a spring-like warmth in the air, and a faint fragrance as of flowers. They were going against a mild off-shore breeze.
Once she spotted dark dots on the ocean far below. There were twenty-four, a convoy. It must, she told herself, be an American convoy. She wanted terribly to drop down low and dip a wing in salute but, this, she knew, would never do. Some enemy sub might see that dip and know that the convoy lay beneath her. They would close in and then—
No—it would never do, so she drove straight on toward the rising sun.
At last a long, low, gray-green cloud appeared on the horizon before her. Or was it a cloud? Breathing softly she waited and watched. The long, narrow line widened. It seemed to take form. Some spots were higher, some strips greener than others. At last she whispered excitedly:
“It’s land! Land! Africa! I’ll soon be abroad. The long hop is nearing its end.” She wanted to shout for joy, to scream, but this she knew was not expected of the co-pilot of a big ship so all she said was:
“Sparky! Sparky! Wake up! We’re nearing land, and I don’t know the way to that secret airfield.”
“What—what?” Sparky groaned sleepily. “It can’t be land. I just stretched out here a minute ago.”
“Yes, I know.” Mary laughed for sheer joy. “It’s land all the same. I think I see a camel. Come and see.”
Sparky came forward rubbing his eyes. Adjusting his glasses he took a good look.
“Can’t make out your camel,” he drawled, “but that white spot off to the right is Dakar, all right. Good girl! You hit it right on the nose. Give me the controls and I’ll have you eating fried camel steak and dates before the hour is up.”
They did just that. Coming down on an airfield fringed with palms, they were given a cordial greeting by a dozen good American soldiers. To a man, they stared at Mary, then grinning, saluted.