Dick Hamilton's Airship Part 36

Suddenly Larry, who was at the wheel, uttered a cry of alarm.

"Something's wrong!" he shouted. "I can't steer her on the course any longer. She's heading North instead of West."

d.i.c.k and Mr. Vardon rushed to the pilot-house. A glance at the compa.s.s confirmed Larry's statement. The aviator himself took the wheel, but it was impossible to head the craft West. She pointed due North.

"The horizontal rudder is out of gear!" cried d.i.c.k.

"Yes, and we'll have to go down to fix it," said Mr. Vardon, after a quick inspection. "Boys, we've got to make our first landing! It's too bad, but it might be worse."

CHAPTER XXVI

ON LAKE MICHIGAN

Unsuccessfully they tried to make repairs to the horizontal rudder without going down, but it was not to be. The airship was being sent farther and farther along on a Northern course, taking her far out of her way. And more time and distance might thus be lost than by descending, making repairs, and going on again.

"Well, I did hope we'd cover at least half the trip before we had to go down," d.i.c.k said, and his tone was regretful. "Try once more and see if we can't get her back on the course."

But the horizontal guide--by which I mean the apparatus that sent the craft to left or right--was hopelessly jammed. To try to force it might mean a permanent break.

"Take her down," d.i.c.k finally gave the order, as captain. "What sort of a landing-place is below us?"

"We're too far up to see," said Mr. Vardon.

"And I hope we have the luck to be above open country. We can't go to left or right except in the smallest degree, so we'll have to land wherever Fate disposes. We are all right on going up or down, but not otherwise."

The vertical rudder was now depressed, and on a long slant d.i.c.k's airship was sent down. Lower and lower she glided, and soon an indistinct ma.s.s appeared. It was almost dusk, and no details could be made out. Then, as she went lower what appeared to be a gray cloud showed.

"There's a bank of fog below us," declared Paul.

"Or else it's the smoke of Pittsburg," said Innis.

"We left Pittsburg behind long ago," Larry returned. "Why!" he cried, as the gray foglike ma.s.s became more distinct. "That's water--that's what it is!"

"Water!" exclaimed d.i.c.k. "Can we have gone in the wrong direction, and be back over the Atlantic?"

"Or the Pacific?" suggested Larry with a laugh.

"No such good luck as that! We haven't had time to cross the continent yet," declared d.i.c.k. "But what water can it be?"

"Oh, some small lake," spoke Paul.

"It isn't a small lake--it's a big one--an inland sea," was d.i.c.k's opinion, as they settled lower and lower.

"It's Lake Michigan, that's what it is!" shouted Larry, after a quick glance at the map. "Fellows, we're over Lake Michigan!"

"And we're going to be IN it--or on it--in a little while, I'm thinking," Lieutenant McBride said, grimly. "Are you ready for a bath?"

"There won't be any trouble about that," answered d.i.c.k. "The hydroplanes will take care of us. I only hope it isn't too rough to make a safe landing."

Paul took a telescope from the rack, and, going out on the deck, looked down. The next moment he reported:

"It's fairly calm. Just a little swell on."

"Then we'd better get ready to lower the hydroplanes," went on d.i.c.k, with a look at the aviator.

"That's the best thing to do," decided Mr. Vardon. "We'll see how they'll work in big water."

The hydroplanes, which were attached to the airship near the points where the starting wheels were made fast, could be lowered into place by means of levers in the cabin. The hydroplanes were really water-tight hollow boxes, large and buoyant enough to sustain the airship on the surface of the water. They could be lowered to a point where they were beneath the bicycle wheels, and were fitted with toggle-jointed springs to take up the shock.

Lieutenant McBride took out his watch, and with pad and pencil prepared to note the exact moment when the airship should reach the surface of the lake.

"I shall have to take official notice of this," he said. "It const.i.tutes your first landing, though perhaps it would be more correct to call it a watering. As soon as you are afloat, your elapsed time will begin, and it will count until you are in the air again. You will probably be some time making repairs."

"No longer than we can help," said d.i.c.k. "I don't want Uncle Ezra, or anybody else, to get ahead of me."

Down and down sank the Abaris, on her first descent from the cloud-land since her auspicious start. But, as d.i.c.k admitted, it might be worse.

The accident itself was a comparatively slight one.

"Get ready, everybody!" called Mr. Vardon, as he saw that, in a few seconds more, they would be on the surface of the water.

"Do you fear something will go wrong?" asked Larry, quickly.

"Well, we've never tried the hydroplanes in rough water, and there is always the chance for an accident. Stand out where you can jump, if you have to," he directed.

Lieutenant McBride was standing with his watch out, ready to note the exact second of landing. He knew he must be officially correct, though he would give d.i.c.k every possible chance and favor.

"Here we go!" came the cry from the aviator. "Only a few seconds now!"

They could plainly see the heaving waters of the big lake. Fortunately it was comparatively calm, though once she had landed the airship could stand some rough weather afloat.

Splash! went the hydroplanes into the water. The springs took up the shock and strain, and the next moment d.i.c.k's craft was floating easily on the great lake. The landing had been made without an accident to mar it.

"Good!" cried Lieutenant McBride, as he jotted down the time. "Do you know how long you have been, so far, d.i.c.k, on the trip?"

"How long?"

"Just thirty-five hours, four minutes and eight seconds!" was the answer.

"Over half the estimated time gone, and we re only a third of the way there!" exclaimed the young millionaire. "I'm afraid we aren't going to do it, Mr. Vardon."

"Well, I'm not going to give up yet," the aviator answered, grimly.

"This is only a start. We haven't used half our speed, and when we get closer to the finish we can go a hundred and twenty-five miles an hour if we have to--for a spurt, at any rate. No, I'm not giving up."

"Neither am I," declared d.i.c.k, for he was not of the quitting sort.

Floating on the surface of Lake Michigan was like being on the ocean, for they were out of sight of land, and there were no water craft in view. The Abaris seemed to have the lake to herself, though doubtless beyond the wall of the slight haze that hemmed her in there were other vessels.