The Argosy, Vol. 90 No. 1 — page 32: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

26 THE wind speed? On the ground, stationary, an instrument could give that too; but at five thousand feet in the air it had to be calculated. To do that one had to know the approximate length between the crests of the waves; and to approximate that, one had to know the exact height. Suddenly an explosive snarl came from in front. “Curse it! In the hurry I forgot to ad- just my altimeter to sea level.” Without a word Rankin pushed the con- trol over into a steep dive. Within a few feet of the surface he “ flattened,” and on receiving a confirmatory grunt he lifted the machine into another long climb. Presently: ‘Wave length twenty feet—gives ve- locity fifteen decimal four. Fierce for a landing.”’ ‘Pitot tube gives a clear hundred and four miles per. Work it out.” Came a whole series of grunts; and pres- ently the movable lubber line on, the dial of the Sperry which was synchronized with the drift indicator in the observer’s hand in the front seat, began to swing round. Rankin followed it with a sigh of thank- fulness and a prayer for luck and settled down to a long steady grind of keeping her nose down to it. No easy matter in a high gusty wind; and a few points deviation meant so. many priceless minutes lost at this critical time. Two hours passed; and as the work be- came mechanical, Rankin’s thoughts turned inevitably to the girl. What would she say? How would she regard his fall from his promise? How could he ever make her see the thing as it was? “Ha, ha!” He barked a short laugh. Fool! Very possibly there never would be any occasion for an explanation. He glued his eyes down to the lubber line and followed it as it shifted from one side to the other as the observer recalculated and checked up his figures from time to time. But his thoughts kept coming back to torture him. The girl; always ,the. girl. The imminent chance of comifg down somewhere in the ocean, helpless, with gas all expended, and being battered to a wreck in a minute found no place in his ARGOSY. mind. Suddenly the grumbling voice came across and woke him to action. ‘“ Smoke on the port bow; three points.” Rankin’s heart jumped up into his mouth and he peered through his wind- shield. Then he shot the machine down for the thin smudge across the horizon like a swooping eagle. Five minutes; -ten minutes. He could see Jim leaning out from his seat with the Zeiss prism glasses to his eyes. Jim waved an arm wildly to the right and ducked back into his hole. ‘““ Blasted United Fruit boat.” Grimly, without .a word again, Rankin swung back and climbed on his course. After many minutes he spoke tersely, with- out emotion. ‘Jim. Suppose we find her—and the waves smash us before she can pick us up. Better write a note; make a package. Maybe we can drop it.” ‘““Huh! If we find her we’ve been doing some flying, lemme tell you.” But Rankin knew in the silence that Jim was scribbling furiously. Dusk began to come. Rankin uncon- sciously began to strain his eyes over his wind-shield as though he had to. rely on himself alone. Suddenly: “Smoke! Way over starboard!” Instantly Rankin dived for it with a quickening of the pulse. Testily the voice came. _ ‘Hey! Not that, you goat. Farther over. Heavy stuff; looks like a mile of cloud bank.” In a few more minutes: “Yes, that’s the one—lower; can’t make her out; she’s smothered.” After a strained period again, in snappy intervals, but in a passionless monotone: “Two master—some speeder—but she’s steaming up and down and around and cutting all sorts of fancy patterns—dive to it son! Destroyer, making knots!” Rankin dove. All he said was: “Get your package ready.” . But in his heart was an exultant thank- fulness that he had arrived in time to warn “his ship.” In a few more minutes he was able to distinguish her himself, smoth- ering herself in foam and black columns of smoke as she smashed her sharp nose into oO Comicbooe S CO