The Girl Aviators and the Phantom Airship Part 13

Involuntarily, at the same instant, Roy had glanced up at the other aeroplane to see how it was faring. To his astonishment the lights did not seem to waver.

"Wow, Peg!" he cried, "that puff didn't even bother Fan Harding's craft.

It was uncanny to see her weather it."

"There's something uncanny about it altogether," sniffed Peggy; "it's a regular phantom airship."

"That's just what it is," agreed Roy, "but I'm afraid it is a substantial enough phantom to carry off that $5,000 prize."

Another puff prevented Peggy from replying just then. Once more the Golden b.u.t.terfly careened violently, and then, under Peggy's skillful handling, righted herself. But this time the puff was followed by a steady rush of wind.

"Better turn, Peg, before it gets any worse," advised Roy; "we're off our course now."

"I--I tried to," exclaimed Peggy, desperately, "but the wind won't let me. I don't dare to."

"We must," exclaimed Roy, with a serious note in his voice; "if this wind freshens much more we won't be able to turn at all."

He leaned forward and took the wheel from his sister. But the instant he tried to steer the aeroplane round, the wind, rising under one wing tip, careened her to a perilous angle.

"No go," he said; "we've got to keep on going."

"But where can we land?" asked Peggy, a little catch in her voice.

"We'll have to take chances on that," decided Roy. "It would be suicidal to try to buck this wind."

The breeze had now freshened till it was singing an Aeolian song in every wire and brace of the Golden b.u.t.terfly. Brother and sister could feel the stout fabric vibrate under the strain of the blast.

The aeroplane was moving swiftly now. But it was the toy of the wind, which grew stronger every minute. The dark landscape beneath fairly flew by under them. Neither of them thought to look back at the red and green lights in the sky behind them.

All at once, Roy, who had leaned over his sister's shoulder and glanced at the compa.s.s, gave a sharp cry.

"We've got to turn, sis," he said, in a tense, sharp voice.

"What do you mean, Roy? Are we in any very serious danger?"

The girl's voice shook nervously in response to the anxiety expressed in her brother's tone.

"Danger!" echoed Roy. "Girlie, we are being blown out to sea!"

Blown out to sea! The words held a real poignant terror for Peggy.

"Oh, Roy, we must do something!" she cried, helplessly.

"Yes, but what? We can't, we daren't turn about. The machine would tip like a bucket. No, we must keep on and trust to luck."

Peggy shuddered. Hurtled along in the wind-driven darkness, brother and sister sat in silence, waiting for the first warning that they were approaching the sea.

In the blackness it was impossible to see anything ahead, and the starlight, which, dim as it was, might have helped, had been overcast by a filmy covering of light clouds.

Once or twice as they were hurried helplessly along, the propeller beating desperately against the wind, they saw, far below them, the cheerful lights of some farmhouse. Further off a glare against the sky indicated the lights of Sandy Bay.

How they wished that they were safe and sound at home, as they were blown onward by the wind, going faster and faster every minute.

Roy, his pulses beating hard, and every nerve at tension, had taken the wheel from his sister, even at the risk of careening the aeroplane when they shifted their positions. Every now and then he tried to turn ever so little, but each time a tip at a dangerous angle warned him not to attempt such a thing.

All at once Peggy uttered a shrill cry.

"Oh, Roy! The sea!"

Above the screeching of the wind and the hum of the motor they could now hear another sound, the thunder of the surf on the beach.

Straining his eyes ahead Roy could see now the white gleam of the breakers as they broke in showers of spray on the seash.o.r.e. A real sense of terror, such as he had never felt before, clutched at his heart as he heard and saw.

But controlling his voice, he turned to Peggy.

"Be brave, little sister," he said; "we'll pull through all right."

Peggy said nothing in response. She dared not trust her voice to speak just at that moment. White faced and with staring, fixed eyes, she sat motionless and silent, as the Golden b.u.t.terfly was driven out above the roaring surf and the tossing waves. To her alarmed imagination the sea seemed to be reaching up hungry arms for the two daring young aviators.

Suddenly she was half blinded by a brilliant flash of light which bathed the aeroplane in a flood of radiance. The next instant it was gone, but they could see the great shaft of radiance sweeping around the compa.s.s.

"It's the light!" cried Roy. "The Rocky Point light!"

CHAPTER XI.

IN DIREST PERIL.

"Oh, if we could only work round and land on the point," exclaimed Peggy.

"There's a fine, smooth field there; in fact, it's all bare ground, without rocks or trees."

"Yes, and Jeff Stokes is wireless operator there, too," rejoined her brother. "Hullo," he exclaimed an instant later, "the wind is shifting a bit. I almost got her head round that time."

"Then there is a chance, Roy!"

"Yes, sis, but don't count too much on it."

Like a skillful jockey handling a restive horse, Roy worked the Golden b.u.t.terfly about on the shifting air currents. If once he could turn her nose toward the land he was sure that he would be able to make the ground by driving the aeroplane down on a slanting angle.

Once or twice, while he strove with hand and brain against the elements, he caught his breath with a gasping intake--so near had they come to overturning. But, thanks to the wind eddies of the point, it was possible, after a deal of breathless maneuvering, to get the aeroplane headed for the land.

The instant he found himself in this position Roy threw on all his power and then, "bucking" the wind, like a ship beating up to windward, he rushed down through the night upon the point. As he did so the rays of the slowly revolving light flashed brightly upon the laboring aeroplane.

In the radiance it looked like some struggling night bird beating its way against the storm and darkness.

As Peggy had said, the point was clear of rocks or brush, and a landing was made without much difficulty once the aeroplane had been turned. Just as a ship can face the waves with comparative security, so an aeroplane, being driven into the teeth of a gale, is secure so long as she does not "broach to"; in other words, get sidewise to the blast. It was touch and go with the Golden b.u.t.terfly for several minutes, though, during that struggle with the elements, and two more thankful young hearts rarely beat than Peggy's and Roy's as they stepped from the machine and made it fast by pointed braces provided for the purpose.

Hardly had she touched the ground before a door in the lower part of the lighthouse opened and the form of Jeff Stokes emerged. He told them that the struggle with the wind had been seen by the light-keeper and himself, and he was warm in his congratulations of the daring young aviators. The light-keeper, a grizzled man named Zeb. Beasley, followed close on Jeff's heels.