CHAPTER XX
THE FIRST SIGHT OF LONDON
THE FIRST SIGHT OF LONDON
THE FIRST SIGHT OF LONDON
On the morning of June 22 a fog lay on the Irish Coast until nine o’clock. Between that hour and ten o’clock the fog turned into a misty rain and it was not until nearly eleven o’clock that old Donald O’Meara, keeper of the north light on Arran Island off Galway bay, applied himself to the work of cleaning the outside metal and glass of the light house. At twenty minutes after eleven o’clock “Captain” O’Meara, sweeping the horizon as he recharged his little clay dudeen, made out a strange object in the west high above the sea.
“Captain” O’Meara was the first European to sight the first airship that crossed the Atlantic ocean. It was a few seconds after twenty-eight minutes after eleven o’clock when theOcean Flyerpassed the Arran light. As the giant airship approached this tower, the aeroplane seemed swooping toward the island as if to perch thereon. When the swift incline suddenly turned to horizontal and the dull metal wings carried theaeroplane ahead only a few hundred feet above the dazed light keeper’s head, O’Meara could make out no person aboard.
Although the veteran light keeper sprang into the tower when the roar of the cyclonelike propellers reached his ears and fled down the steps to his cottage below, theFlyerwas yet in plain sight when he reported what he had seen, by telephone to the mainland. Within thirty minutes this information and similar reports had reached the Galway evening newspapers from a dozen sources.
“She looks like a big French aeroplane,” came one message from Bullyvaughan on the south shore of Galway bay. “Like as not lost in the fog early to-day.”
No observer suspected or suggested that the strange vehicle had actually crossed the Atlantic ocean. And the telegraph messages that hastened to London, receiving little attention in the midst of the coronation exercises, were not even repeated to America. Within the apparently untenanted car of the big air craft there was little excitement and almost no activity. The nerve tension of the long trip had resulted in a spiritless, almost tired condition that did not even prompt enthusiasm in the crew over the first glimpse of the long looked for shores of the old world.
Ned and Alan were both at the wheel. They had picked up the Galway bay light with no other comment than “There she is!” And Roy, heavy-eyed but wide awake, had made his observations and set down his figures as mechanically as if yet far a-sea. In truth, as theFlyerhad made her night-long swift flight eastward, hour by hour holding to its course in unvarying response to the powerful engine that never faltered, the surprise would have beennotto see the landmark that spelled success and victory.
The arrangement of the night watches had been, in the main, carried out as planned. At two o’clock Alan relieved Ned at the wheel. About four thirty o’clock Ned took charge again and Alan was off till seven. From that time until ten o’clock Ned slept and at ten both boys were together to stick to the end. Roy, at the observer’s table, got along with his three-quarter hour cat naps till seven o’clock in the morning when Bob spelled him off until ten o’clock. At this time Buck threw himself on the floor of the store room and was only called when the Arran light came in sight.
When the stars faded at four o’clock in the morning and Alan felt the snappy night air changing to a colder moisture he feared a fog. Ned came on watch at seven o’clock to find every indication of heavier weather. Hoping that the fog, if it grew worse, would lift when the land was reached, the young aviators made the best of a bad prospect and Alan prepared to turn in.
“I’d stick now, to the end,” he explained, “if it wasn’t for what’s comin’. It’s a long haul back, old man,” he added as he patted Ned affectionately on the shoulder, “and that’s goin’ to be the real test.”
“In more ways than one,” replied Ned significantly. “But I’m feelin’ fine. Get what rest you can. We may have to stand a straight watch to-night.”
“Isn’t it surprisin’,” exclaimed Alan, “that we’re not throwin’ up our hats and yellin’? We’ve practically crossed the ocean at last and there don’t seem to be any excitement. What d’ you think we’ll do when we really sight the land?”
“If it’s Arran light,” answered Ned with a smile, “as I hope and reckon, I’ll bet our first thought’ll be ‘Are we on time?’”
No member of the crew had been busier during the night than Bob. Only a part of his “watch off” had he given up to sleep. In his eagerness he was frequently at the wireless, as the night wore on, watching and waiting for some answer to his earlier message. In mid-ocean this had been an almost useless precaution. TheFlyerwireless outfit was hardly powerful enough to make a fifteen hundred mile connection. But Bob had a theory that the answer might come by way of some liner; that it might be picked up by the operator on some large steamer and thus relayed to theFlyer.
As the airship approached the Irish coast the keen young reporter was on the alert for a direct message from the station at the Lizard. At ten o’clock in the morning no word had been received and it was Bob’s turn for a few more hours’ sleep. As they must now be not much over two hundred miles from the land, Bob wanted to get off another message directly to theHeraldoffice in London.
“There’s time yet,” he explained, “even if the other message went wrong. They’ll have three hours to change their plans—they can even send the fuel and oil wagon out to that place in three hours.”
Alan rather opposed the idea.
“We’ve got trouble enough ahead,” he suggested. “I don’t suppose the government would know about it and of course the wireless people wouldn’t interfere with a private message. But we can’t send it without telling about our plans again and I don’t like the idea of so many persons knowin’ what we’re tryin’ to do. If there’s a leak anywhere, you can bet the police ain’t goin’ to go to sleep on the job.”
“I’m not afraid of the message becoming known through the wireless office,” said Ned, “but there are hundreds of amateur operators always on the lookout for practice. If one of these caught us he might not hesitate to tell all he knew. Wait a little while. We may hear something.”
Disappointed, Bob surrendered and retired to a state room. However, Ned knew something about the working of the wireless and two or three times during the next three hours he sleepily arose and listened for a possible call. At ten o’clock Bob turned out for the long watch and, relieving Buck, alternated from that time in keeping an eye on the engines and an ear on the wireless receiver. At 10:30 o’clock all were relieved by a shout from Bob and almost before the three boys on duty could question him, the wireless operator was filling the store room withloud “barks” of the wireless condenser. Bob had received a call and was pounding his key in response. Suddenly the wire ceased. A few moments of silence and then Bob threw off his head piece and shouted:
“New plan O. K.; new plan O. K. They got it. Message is a Marconi from the Lizard. SignedHerald.” “Any answer?” he yelled as he sprang to the instrument again.
Ned examined the chronometer.
“Roy,” he announced, “it’s ten thirty-two o’clock. How near in are we?”
The vigilant Roy made a quick calculation.
“We’re less than one hundred and seventy miles out.”
“Send this,” called Ned to Bob: “‘Herald, New York. Ten thirty-two A. M. One hundred and seventy miles off Irish coast. Light rain. London one thirty P. M. Message received.Flyer.’”
At various times during the night the constantly changing watches of the airship had partaken of cold luncheon and hot coffee. Between ten thirty and eleven o’clock Roy and Bob between them had prepared an ample breakfast and when the lookout finally saw the Arran light and sang out “Thereshe is!” Roy, Bob and Alan were at breakfast below. It was then that Buck was aroused and all climbed above to feast their eyes on the point to which they had been making all night.
While theFlyer, speeding forward over the lakes and rivers, white highways, thatched cottages and little stone fenced villages of Ireland, carried its crew nearer the great metropolis, all was made shipshape aboard. The staterooms were arranged for the return passengers. The boys aboard had no plans for further sleep or rest except such as they could snatch while on duty or in the short stop before their start on the return trip. The program called for a departure from London at two o’clock or before. And the flight to New York was to be made in twelve hours “or less” as Ned put it.
The boys in turn freshened themselves with sponge baths and, when the Irish Sea hove in sight at twelve o’clock, every one was newly alert and as spick and span as if the voyage was just beginning.
“The Arklow Light five miles abeam to port,” cried Ned a few minutes later.
“Blackwater Light five miles to port,” chimed in Alan in great spirits.
“Nine minutes after twelve o’clock,” shouted Buck standing by the chronometer.
“Two hundred and twenty-six miles to London,” called Roy from his table. “Stand by for Cardigan Light Ship and the Welsh coast.”
When the village of New Quay in Wales had been laid astern at twelve thirty-three o’clock and theOcean Flyerat last had English soil in sight ahead there was new activity. Ned, Buck and Bob tried the engine room trap door; the rope ladder was attached to hooks at the door’s edge and the landing ladder was got in readiness on the starboard gallery. Then a thirty foot length of line was procured and made fast to the matrix bundle. With this line the package was to be suspended below the car and dropped at the right moment rather than to take the risk of hurling the bundle from the slackened airship.
Alan returning to the pilot room, Ned sat down at Roy’s table and wrote a message to be cabled to theHerald. Using what time he had before Oxford was reached, Buck also prepared a cablegram for his manager. Suddenly, all aboard seemed to have new duties. Only Alan had the time to examine the new land below. Welsh mountains soon gave way to the English country side of history and fiction. Almost unconsciously Alan brought theFlyernearer the moors and woods of the outlying counties.
“They’re all here, boys,” he shouted. “I’d know it without Roy’s chart.”
“A little strange,” answered Roy, “to go to London, turn around and leave England again without putting foot on the soil.”
“You may have a chance to stretch your legs at Acton,” broke in Ned. “We’ll be there nearly a half hour.”
“Think I can run over to the village?” continued Roy.
“What’d you want to do there?” asked Alan. “No soda water in England you know.”
“I thought I’d mail the folks a picture postal card,” laughed Roy. “That’ll be one way to prove we’ve been here.”
“But a better way to put in your time,” interrupted Ned again, “will be for you and Bob to take charge of the men who are to go back with us and get ’em aboard and in their staterooms. Buck,” he announced, “you get the new supplies and water aboard and store ’em away. Alan and I’ll be busy with the fuel and oil. If we’ve got any time left after that, we’ll stretch our legs and rest.”
“Hereford, by the chart,” was Roy’s only reply. “Stand by for Cheltenham and Oxford dead ahead.”
Buck, somewhat nervous over his coming pilot duty, was hastening to finish his report. When Roy announced Cheltenham a few minutes later, Buck hastily ended his copy, sealed and addressed it and sprang to Alan’s side by the wheel.
“The shore pilot is aboard, sir,” exclaimed Alan turning toward Ned and speaking with assumed dignity.
“Very good,” answered Ned. “Turn the ship over to him.”
Roy, continuing the joke, turned his land chart face down on the desk and arose with a smile, stretching his arms.
“I suppose I’m off duty now, sir.”
“Until we leave Acton at two o’clock,” was Ned’s sober reply.
“Bring her down to seven hundred feet,” came a sharp order from Buck.
All looked up in surprise and Ned even chuckled. It was apparent that the new pilot had taken charge in reality. Before Oxford was reached the shadowy east had formed itself into the cloud that always hangs over a great city. The moors and farms of west England had long since merged into the park like places and estates in which rose the country homes of wealth and the nobility. Even at 700 feet these fled beneath the speedingcar until all detail was lost. Railway lines, vine-clad stations, the picturesque cots of rural hamlets were almost a blur. But they all meant one thing—London was near.
As the silver thread of the Thames at Oxford crossed their flight there was a new order from Buck. Ignoring the chart course of S. E. 7/8 E. he moved his hand to the right, peering ahead, until he gave the word “hold her!”
Alan at the wheel seemed in doubt and showed it.
“I’m doin’ this,” exclaimed Buck. “See those two towers dead ahead? Well, they’re Windsor Castle.” Ned and Roy sprang to the lookout.
“Was that bunch of gray towers Oxford?” asked Buck craning his neck astern.
“And that’s Windsor ahead?” inquired Ned with no less interest. “This is certainly a fine way to study a new country.”
“I wouldn’t reckon Windsor was on our course,” argued Alan.
“It isn’t much off it,” explained Buck. “But you’ve got to remember I know London suburbs from the ground—not from the sky. It’s twenty-one miles from Windsor to Fleet Street. And it’s twenty-one miles of as windin’ roads and streets as ever were made; suburbs and cemeteries,prisons and gas works, remnants of old parks and flower spotted new ones; old mansions goin’ to ruin in a world of tradesmen’s villas and bungalows; electric trams and windin’ railroads—”
“You don’t mean to say you don’t know the way in?” broke in Ned.
“I’ll get you there,” answered Buck undisturbed. “And to be sure of it I’m goin’ by way of Windsor because you can’t miss its towers. There we’ll pick up the Great Western railroad and then we can’t miss our way.”
“Sure you know the railway?” asked Alan anxiously.
“Throw me off if I don’t,” was Buck’s answer.
“Where does it end?” asked Ned not wholly reassured.
“At the great Paddington Station.”
“Then how do we get to Hyde Park?” was Alan’s next question.
“It’s in sight. Before we’re well over the station I’ll point out the Marble Arch gate at Oxford Street and Park Lane.”
At Windsor the Thames was wider but there was no time for scenery now. It required only a motion for Alan to pick out the railway and then with a wide swerve theFlyerheaded into the thin haze ahead.
“What time is it?” asked Roy reopening his log.
“One fifteen o’clock,” answered Alan, his voice trembling, “English time.”
“It’s twenty-one miles to Fleet Street,” said Buck at once. “It must be about three miles to the Arch from Fleet Street. You’ve got eighteen more miles—”
“That’s ten minutes,” exclaimed Ned. Catching Roy by the arm he motioned to the store room ladder. “We’ll go below and get ready. When you pass Paddington lift her to about one thousand feet and then do a wide spiral. Unless we give you the word through the tube you’ll have to stop. If they’re ready for us Roy’ll pass the word ‘go ahead’ and I’ll drop the stuff. Then hit it up for Acton. Keep your place, Buck. If we stop, both stand by the wheel. It may be a race with the police. Don’t leave the wheel, either of you. Bob’s at the engine. Roy and I’ll do the work below.”
In a few moments the engine room trap was open and Captain Ned was on the floor getting his first view of London.