The Flying Legion Part 10

He slid open another door. The three men pa.s.sed through the captain's cabin and pilot-house. This place measured twelve feet on its longer axis and nine on its shorter, being of approximately diamond shape with one point forward in the very nose of the machine, one ending in a door that gave access to the main, longitudinal corridor, and the right and left points joining the walls of the backward-sloping prow.

It contained two sofa-lockers with gas-inflated, leather cushions, a chart-rack, pilot's seat, controls, and instrument-board.

The whole front was a magnificent stretch of double plate-gla.s.s, with warm air between the sheets to keep snow, frost, or dew from obscuring the vision. Bright light flooded it.

Though one window had been slid partly open--the window on the sill of which the sleeping aviator had lain--a scent of cigarette-smoke still permeated the place. The Master sniffed with disgust. Then suddenly, to the great astonishment of Bohannan, he commanded:

"Bring me that champagne, in the saloon. All of it!"

The major opened wide eyes, but unquestioningly obeyed. Could it be possible the Master, in this moment of exultation, was about to break his lifelong rule and drink a toast, in sparkling bubbles, to success thus far achieved, to the stupendous voyage now about to begin?

Wondering, Bohannan departed. The Master gestured for Captain Alden to seat himself on one of the lockers. Alden kept complete silence as he sat down, crossed one leg over the other and began to study the complex apparatus before him. Most of it was familiar; but some new factors needed inspection.

The Master peered curiously at him. Surely, this man was odd, unusual.

Most aviators, thus confronted by strange problems, would have grown loquacious, tried to exhibit their knowledge, asked questions, made much talk. But Alden held his tongue.

A look of appreciation, of liking, came upon the Master's face. It was just the suspicion of a look, for in all this strange man's life no great show of emotion ever had been permitted to mirror itself upon his countenance. But still, the look was there. He half opened his lips, as if to speak, then closed them again, and--like Alden--fell to studying the control apparatus.

All was beautifully arranged, all nicely calculated for instant use. Not here, as in small machines, could the pilot handle his own engines, tilt his planes, or manipulate his rudders by hand. That would have been as absurd to think of, as for the steersman of an ocean liner to work without the intervention of steam steering-gear.

No, these controls actuated various motors that, using current from the dynamos, produced the desired action with smooth and certain promptness. A turn of the wrist, perhaps no more than the touch of a finger, and the whole vast creation would respond as easily as a child's toy can be manipulated by a strong man's hand.

Hooded dials, brightly lighted push-b.u.t.tons, a telephone headpiece and receiver combined, and switches all lay in easy reach. Here was the tachometer, that would give to a fraction the revolutions of each screw per minute; here the altimeter, to indicate height; here the air-speed indicator, the compa.s.s with reflector, the inclinometer, the motometers--to show the heat in each engine--and there, the switch to throw on the gigantic searchlight, with the little electric wheel to control its direction, as accurately as you would point a wand.

Throttle and spark, of course, there were none. All engine control was by telephone, with the engine-room which lay a little aft of midships.

But the controls of the vacuum apparatus were within easy reach, so that at will the pilot could exhaust the floats, or fill them.

Here were the starting, stopping, and speed controls of the helicopters, which were under direct electrical motivation by the pilot. Here also were the magnetic-anchor release and the air-skid pump control; here were telephonic connections with the wireless-room and with the fore-and-aft observation pits, where observers were already lying on their cushions upon the heavy, metal-reinforced gla.s.s floor-plates.

"This is really very complete," approved the Master. Not Alden, but he, had been first to speak. The Master spoke half against his own wish, but a resistless impulse to make some comment, in this moment of triumph, possessed him.

"Only as expected, sir," replied Alden. The Master bit his lip a second, and said no more.

Bohannan's return with several champagne bottles in his arms, put an end to any possible developments the terse conversation might have had.

"Well, sir," said the major, "here it all is. And I've got gla.s.ses in my pocket--and a corkscrew, sir. It never does to forget the corkscrew! We'll drink to happy days, eh, sir?"

Already the Celt's mouth was watering for draughts of the precious liquid. Joy pervaded him that, for once at least, the iron rule of the Master was to be broken, and that the journey was to begin with proper libations. The Master's curt syllables, however, instantly dispelled any illusions he might have entertained on that score.

"Drop them all out that open window, there," commanded the Master.

"What, sir? Good Pommery? Veuve?"

"No argument, Bohannan! Out they go!"

Dismayed, the Celt did the other's bidding, while Alden smiled grimly.

Far below, gla.s.s crashed and jangled.

"What's the idea?" demanded the major ruefully.

"You know very well, Major, my ruling on alcohol. It doesn't mix with any motive power on this trip. Moreover, it's customary to christen every launching with champagne. We've done it!"

"Well, that's not so bad an idea, at that," Bohannan admitted, scratching his fiery head. "What name have you given this bus?"

"_Nissr Arrib ela Sema._"

"Come again, sir?"

"Eagle of the Sky, in Arabic. I suppose we'll have to cut that down to _Nissr_, for everyday use. But at any rate, our craft is christened.

Well, now--"

He settled himself in the pilot's seat, reached forward and drew toward him a shining metal shaft. Four stout spokes unfolded; and from these, quadrants of a rim that easily snapped together. The Master laid one hand easily on the rim of the big steering-wheel, flung his cap upon a locker, pulled down the telephone headpiece and snapped it on.

He touched a b.u.t.ton. The light died in the pilot-house, leaving only the hooded glows of the dials, switches, and small levers. Night seemed suddenly to close in about the vast machine. Till now it had been forgotten, ignored. But as darkness fingered at the panes, something of the vastness of sky and air made itself realized; something of the illimitable scope of this adventuring.

Bohannan slid the window shut and settled himself beside Captain Alden. He glanced at his wrist-watch, and a thrill of nervous exultation stabbed him.

"Only two minutes and six seconds more!" he murmured, gnawing at his mustache and blinking with excitement. Alden remained calm, impa.s.sive as the Master himself, who now, pressing another b.u.t.ton, sent a beam of wonderful, white light lancing through the darkness.

Track, buildings, trees all leaped into vivid relief as he tested the searchlight control. He shot the beam up, up, till it lost itself, vaguely, in mist and cloud; then flung it even across the river, where it picked out buildings with startling detail.

He turned it, finally, square down the launching-way, through the yawning gates where the track abruptly ended at the brow of the Palisades--the empty chasm where, if all went right and no mistake had been made in build, engine-power, or control, the initial leap of _Nissr Arrib ela Sema_ was to be made.

Came a moment's wait. Faintly the pulsing of the engines trembled the fabric of _Nissr_. Finely balanced as they were, they still communicated some slight vibration to the ship. The Master snicked the switch of the magnetic-anchor release; and now the last bond that held _Nissr_ to her cradle was broken. As soon as the air-skid currents should be set going, she would be ready for her flight.

This moment was not long in coming. Another turn of a switch, and all at once, far below, a faint, continuous hissing made itself audible.

Compressed air, forced through thousands of holes at the bottom of the floats, was interposing a gaseous cushion between those floats and the track, just as it could do between them and the earth wherever _Nissr_ should alight.

Suspended thus on a thin layer of air, perhaps no more than a sixteenth of an inch thick but infinitely less friction-producing than the finest ball-bearing wheels and quite incapable of being broken, the ship now waited only the application of the power in her vast propellers.

"Let in numbers two and four," commanded the Master, suddenly, into the engine-room telephone. "In five seconds after we start, hook up one and three; and five later, the other two."

"Aye, aye, sir," came back the voice of Auchincloss, chief engineer.

"Ready, sir!"

Almost at once, the vibration of the engines altered, grew more marked, seemed to be taking hold of something with strong but easy effort. Another trembling made itself felt, as two of the giant screws, connected by reducing-gears with the engine-shafting--all three engines being geared to one shaft, but any one being capable of separate running--began to revolve.

From astern, a dull, droning hum mounted, rose, grew rapidly in volume and power. And, as two more screws began to whirl, the Eagle of the Sky shook herself slightly. She awoke from slumber. Steadily, smoothly on her air-cushions she began to move forward down the long, sloping trackway to the brink of the cliff.

"Lord above!" breathed Bohannan, chewing at his nails. "We're off!"

Neither the Master nor Captain Alden moved, spoke, manifested any excitement whatever. Both might have been graven images of coolness.

The Celt, however, got up and leaned at the window-jamb, unable to keep still. He turned suddenly to Alden.

"Come, man!" he exclaimed, half angrily. "Got no heart in you, eh? No interest? Come along out of that, now, and see what's what!"

He laid hold on the captain, and drew him to the window as the airship accelerated her plunge along the rails. The hum of the propellers had now risen to a kind of throaty roar; the craft was shaking with strange quivers that no doubt would cease if she but once could launch herself into the air. Under her, in and in, the shining metal rails came running swiftly and more swiftly still, gleaming silver-like under the vivid beam of the searchlight.

Wind began to rise up against the gla.s.s of the pilot-house; the wind of _Nissr's_ own making.