Eagles of the Sky: or, With Jack Ralston Along the Air Lanes

CHAPTER I
READY FOR BUSINESS

When the “Big Boss” at Secret Service Headquarters in Washington sent Jack Ralston and his pal, Gabe Perkiser, to Florida with orders to comb the entire Gulf Coast from the Ten Thousand Islands as far north as Pensacola and break up the defiant league of smugglers, great and small, that had for so long been playing a game of hide-and-seek with the Coast Guard revenue officers, the task thus assigned was particularly to the liking of those two bold and dependable sky detectives.

They loved nothing better than action– never felt entirely happy unless matching their wits against those of skulking law breakers–while to sup with danger, and run across all manner of thrilling adventures–that was a daily yearning with them.

Since so much of their work must of necessity take them over that vast stretch of salt water lying between the Florida coast and the far distant Mexican shore line, the wise men in Washington had supplied Jack with a speedy plane of the amphibian type, capable of making landings either on shore or in any of the numerous inlets dotting the coast, it being equipped with both aluminum pontoons and adjustable wheels.

Jack had spent several days at the Capital, conferring with various high officials, being thus put in possession of every available scrap of reliable information at the disposal of the Department.

He had also been given documents of authority, calling upon each and every Government agent in all Florida to afford him any possible assistance, should he require such backing while learning the identity of the “higher-up” capitalists guilty of financing the secret clique that had been giving the revenue men such trouble recently.

The fact was well known that besides the valuable caches of unset diamonds, and other precious stones, coming surreptitiously into the country without yielding the customary heavy duty imposed on them, there was also being smuggled into the innumerable lonely bayous and inlets of the lengthy coast line vast quantities of contraband in violation of the eighteenth amendment, also batches of undesirable aliens like Chinese, anarchists and Bolsheviks, such riffraff as Uncle Sam had been holding off under a strict ban.

So, too, it was understood that besides the fleet of swift, small power-boats employed night after night in this profitable game of mocking the Treasury Department, latterly the smugglers had been freighting their cargoes by means of airplanes that would be able to land the contraband stuff in lonely places far back of the low coast sections.

It was therefore a monumental task, covering a wide field of operation and with constant peril hovering over the heads of the two adventurous aviators who had undertaken so joyously to spread the net and draw its meshes about the offenders.

Their preparations having been completed, they were waiting in an isolated little bayou surrounded by inaccessible swamps and mangrove islands ready to take off with the coming of the friendly shades of night.

To those who enjoyed reading the preceding volume of this series of aviation adventures, where Jack and “Perk,” in order to get their man–one of the boldest and most successful counterfeiters known in the annals of crime–found it necessary to fly across the Mexican boundary line and snatch their victim out of an extinct volcano crater that had once been the fort of the fierce Yaqui Indian tribe,¹ will think it a rather far cry for the Sky Detectives to be detailed to active duty some thousands of miles distant, and in the extreme southeastern corner of the republic.

So it always must be with the famous Secret Service men–their motto, like that of our present day Boy Scouts, is “Be Prepared”; for day and night they must hold themselves in readiness to start to the other side of the world if necessary–China, Japan, India, the Philippines perhaps–detailed to fetch back some notorious malefactor wanted by Uncle Sam, and information of whose presence in distant lands has reached Headquarters.

As a rule it was Perk’s duty to see that their flying ship was well stocked with all necessary supplies, from liquid fuel and lubricating oil down to such food stores as they would require, even if forced to remain for days, or a week, without connections along the line of groceries and commissary stuff.

Perk himself was an odd mixture of New England and Canuck blood, one branch of his family living in Maine, while the other resided across the border. Hence Perk sometimes chose to call himself a Yankee; and yet for a period of several years he had been a valued member of the Northwestern Mounted Police, doing all manner of desperate stunts up in the cold regions of Canada.

He was considerably older than his gifted chum and had seen pretty hot service flying in France while with Pershing’s army in the Argonne. It was his knowledge of aviation in general that had caused Jack to pick him as his assistant when the Government decided to fight fire with fire, by pitting their own pilots and aircraft against those employed by the powerful combine of smuggling aces.

Sometimes it chanced that Jack, for good and sufficient reasons of his own, did not fully explain the necessity for making plans along certain lines.

This was not because he lacked confidence in his loquacious chum’s ability to keep a still tongue in his head or exercise due caution, but usually through a desire to make doubly sure of his own ground before submitting the arrangement to Perk’s sharp criticism, which Jack valued even more than the other suspected.

Consequently Perk, with the Yankee half of his blood stirred by an ever present curiosity, wanted to know and invariably asked numerous questions in the endeavor to find a leading clue.

It was in the late Fall and already the advance guard of the winter tourist crowds had begun to arrive from the North, in ever increasing numbers, all set for an enjoyable winter in the sunny resorts of both coasts.

Jack had already made quite a thorough investigation and picked up some important clues that he meant to run down in hopes one of them might lead to definite results.

The amphibian floated on the surface of the isolated bayou with glimpses of the open gulf toward the golden west forming an alluring picture as seen between the jaws of sand points, with palmettoes guarding the entrance to the sheltered nook.

It was just sunset, and inside another hour the night would have advanced far enough to permit their departure on the first leg of their intended flight up the coast.

Perk was exceedingly fond of his pipe and choice tobacco, and looked the picture of contentment as he squatted in his seat, scratching his ankle, where a burning sensation told him he had once again been visited by the tiny but venomous red-bug pest which he hated with all his heart.

“Drat the little beggars,” he was muttering as he kept on digging at his leg, “they sure do beat anything I ever run acrost in all my wanderin’s. It ain’t so bad to be slappin’ at pesky skeeters, ’cause I’m used to sich bloodsuckers; but sandflies, and’ jiggers, an’ redbugs make a combination that’d be hard to beat.”

“Try that kerosene again, brother,” advised Jack, who somehow seemed to be a favored one, since he was immune from similar attacks, and greatly envied on that account by his unlucky; pal.

“Yeah!” growled the usually good tempered Perk, “I’ve rubbed that on, an’ witch hazel, an’ all sorts o’ lotions till I guess now I smell like a stick-pot set out, with old rags smoulderin’ to keep the skeets away. Salt water helps a mite, but this scratchin’ which I just can’t let up on to save my life, makes things worse right along.”

Thereupon he kicked off his shoes, removed his socks, and thrust both feet over the side to dabble them in the saline water of the lagoon.

“Keep an eye out for that big ’gator we scared off the bank a while back,” warned Jack, wickedly, “he might think it was a wild duck splashing, and try to pot it for his supper.”

“Huh! mebbe now that’s about the only way to get relief–let him snap the foot off an’ it won’t itch me any more.”

Nevertheless, despite this reckless assertion Perk quickly ceased his splashing and resumed his footgear, heroically refraining from rubbing the affected parts. After a short interval of staring at the glowing heavens, as if the sight fairly fascinated him, Perk again spoke, this time finding something of more importance than insect bites to talk about.

“Wall,” he drawled in his customary slow fashion, “here’s hopin’ we ain’t agoin’ to be knocked out in our calculations tonight, but get a line on what the boys are doin’ up the coast, eh, partner?”

“Won’t be our fault if we don’t,” said Jack, who doubtless recognized from the signs that his mate had something in his mind, which he meant to spring on him by cautious insinuations and half questions.

“A right decent crate that was we saw pass over early this morning I’d say, old hoss,” continued Perk, nodding his head as if to punctuate his remarks and also to cause his thoughts to flow more smoothly. “I had a good peep at it as we lay behind that bunch o’ saw palmetto out front, an’ unless I’m away off in my guess, she was a Curtiss-Robin ship–a big crate in the bargain.”

“They need them big in their line of business,” Jack went on significantly. “A full cargo of wet goods is pretty heavy, you know, Perk.”

“You said it, partner,” assented the other, grinning amiably and yet with a shade of Yankee cunning. “An’ what’s more to the p’int the guy handlin’ the stick was no slouch at his job, b’lieve me. I wonder now could he have been that Oscar Gleeb we been hearin’ so much about since comin’ down here,–got an idea he might abeen, ain’t you, Boss?”

“Just as like as not,” Jack told him.

“Huh! Some go as far as to say he used to be a Boche pilot in that fuss across the big water,” continued Perk, reflectively, as though certain memories of the long-ago had awakened in his brain–recollections that breathed of action, staccato machine-gun fire, exploding shells, and the terrible odor of gas that had poisoned so many of his former mates.

“Yes, they said there wasn’t any doubt about that,” Jack asserted. “After the war was over and he couldn’t find work in his home country, he managed to get to America and has cut quite a figure in flying circles. I reckon he was tempted by the big money in the smuggling game to take a job with this combine along the coast and has been fetching heaps of cargoes ashore from vessels anchored far out on the gulf, or even across from Bimini or Santa Fe Beach near Havana over in Cuba.”

“By jinks!” ejaculated Perk, “that there’s the place we learned they was shippin’ Chinks over to Florida from, ain’t it Jack, boy?”

“Just what it was,” admitted the other. “It seems that this big combine, made up of rich American sporting men, with a mixture of Cubans and adventurers from all nations, doubles up in crashing Uncle Sam’s coast gates with aliens, as well as hard stuff in bottles and barrels.”

“Me, I’m jest awonderin’?” continued Perk, “whether it could a’happened that this same Oscar Gleeb an’ me ever hit it up and had an air duel tryin’ to strafe each other when flyin’ across No-Man’s-Land over there. Kinder like to meet up with him so we could run over our scraps an’ see if one o’ us sent t’other down in a blazin’ coffin. It’d be funny if it turned out that way.”

“Queer things do happen sometimes,” agreed Jack, yawning. “This warm day’s made me feel a bit lazy but as soon as we get a move on all that will slip away like fog under the morning sun.”

“I say, partner, how ’bout that Greek sponger we talked with when we dropped in at Tarpon Springs t’other day–you kinder s’pected he knew a heap more about these goin’s-on than he wanted us to grab, even if we was jest s’posed to be Northern tourists, bent on havin’ a fishin’ spree later on when big tarpon strike in around Fort Myers–could them spongers have a hand afetchin’ in bottled stuff, or ferryin’ Chinks over from some island halfway point?”

“Some folks seem to think that possible,” he was told. “After looking over the ground, and getting the opinion of a heap of people who ought to have an intelligent opinion covering the facts known and suspected, I’ve come to the conclusion that if ever there was a time when you could play safe by suspecting everybody you met of having some sort of money interest in this big game, it’s down along the Florida west coast and like as not over toward Miami just the same. I’m not trusting my secrets to a living soul, saving a few Government agents to whom I’ve been directed by my superiors–and I’m even a bit leery about some of that bunch.”

“Yeah! From this time on seems to me we’d be wise to play a lone hand, an’ not bother about takin’ any gyps into our confidence, eh what, Jack?”

“You never said truer words, my boy,” assented the other, smiling as he noted the look of pleasure flashing across the bronzed face of his pal at thus having his own opinion confirmed; for Perk valued a few words of praise from Jack far above any other source.

“Kinder get to thinkin’ that Greek sponger–Alexis was his name, if my memory ain’t gimme the bounce–was a bit o’ a sharper, an’ knew beans in the bargain from the way them black eyes o’ his’n kept watchin’ us all the time we asked questions, just like we’d heard people sayin’ queer things concernin’ how easy it was to grab any quantity o’ bottled stuff if on’y you had the ready cash, an’ a good eye for winkin’.”

“We may know more about Alexis before we’re through with this trip,” was all Jack would say concerning the matter. “On my part I’m shaking hands with myself because we were smart enough to camouflage our ship with green stuff for that pilot passed over and could have glimpsed our crate lying half hidden here, and through his glasses–which I understand they all carry–made out how it didn’t match up with any of the aircraft they use in their business.”

“Thanks to you, partner,” Perk hastened to confess. “If it all depended on my poor head I kinder guess I’d a’slipped up right then an’ there an’ give the hull scheme away which would a’been a danged shame, an’ busted the game higher’n a kite.”

“We make a pretty good team, matey,” said Jack. “Sometimes it’s you that goes loco, and threatens to step off your base, and then another time I feel myself side-slipping and have to lean on you to hold my own. That’s just how it should be with partners–give and take, with never a bleat if our calculations go wrong.”

“It’s right nice o’ you to talk that way, brother,” Perk hastened to assert, beaming with pride and making out as if tempted to begin scratching again when Jack reaching around, gently steered his clutching fingers away from the itching locality, at which Perk heaved a relieved sigh and nodded his thanks.

“The sky has lost most of that glorious color,” mentioned the head pilot, “and before long now we can be hopping-off. Our first job will be to swing down the coast and learn if there seems to be anything going on among the southern islands in this beastly mangrove section where a man could easy enough lose himself for keeps among the countless water passages and inlets. See here, what’s the matter with you, staring that way, Perk?”

“Wouldn’t that jar you now,” snapped the other, “that Robin ship is headin’ back this way; or else some other crate that looks like its twin!”

CHAPTER II
THE CURTISS-ROBIN PLANE

Jack, a bit startled by his companion’s sudden exclamation, took a good look and hastened to remark:

“Reckon now you hit the nail on the head that time, Perk and it’s heading this way in the bargain. Why d’ye suppose we didn’t see the crate before?”

“Huh! I kinder guess now,” Perk went on to say, “she bust out o’ that little fog cloud right to the south–a’swoopin’ up the coast, you notice, partner, don’t you?”

“Sure is,” assented Jack, as though that small circumstance assumed some importance in his eyes, as well as those of his comrade.

“Ginger pop! but mebee I ain’t glad we didn’t show any hurry to kick off this camouflage green stuff, thinkin’ it’d served its purpose okay and could be knocked into the discard. See how they keep dodging’ in an’ out like they might be scourin’ every foot o’ shore line, little bays back o’ these mangrove islands an’ all. Strikes me they’re a’searchin’ for somethin’, Jack, which might be the pair o’ us, eh, what?”

“Right you are!” snapped Jack, without hesitating a second.

“Which, I take it, would mean there might a’been some sort o’ little leak up at Headquarters, hang the luck, when we figured we’d got the gang buffaloed right smart. Don’t think they c’n lamp us lyin’ here, do you, Boss?”

“Small chance of that, boy, if only we lie low, and make no move apt to attract their attention,” Perk was told in a confident tone that effectually calmed his rising alarm.

He hastened to settle down in a position where he could thrust his glasses between interstices in the green covering of the fusilage and wings so as to keep close tabs on the advancing plane without making any particular movement of arms or body.

“How?” asked Jack, a few seconds later, when he fancied his mate must have made up his mind as to the identity of the flying ship.

“Curtiss-Robin crate, that’s right, Jack an’ the same we saw before,” replied the observer, excitedly. “Hey! guess now they got a glass up there too. I sure saw the sun shinin’ on somethin’ bright, ’cause the old boy’s still on deck to chaps that high up.”

“I’ve discounted that fact long ago, Perk; men engaged in the desperate game they’re playing night after night would need such a useful instrument, so’s to keep a sharp lookout for Coast Guard boats or bunches of revenue men lying in ambush close to the place they expected to land a wet cargo, or a couple of high-pay Chinks, it might be.”

“Then you got an idea they must have a spy up in Washington–a sneaker who c’n find out what’s bein’ hatched up so’s to cook their goose an’ that he manages to get warnin’ down here to the workin’ crews so’s to put ’em on their guard–is that it, partner?”

“Looks that way–that’s all I can say, Perk. Now lie low and don’t do any talking, though with their crate kicking up all that row I reckon there’d be small chance of their hearing us even if we shouted.”

Perk was chuckling to himself at a great rate and could not keep from taking advantage of the invitation Jack had really extended to say:

“Yeah! an’ I kinder guess now we got one thing they ain’t, which is a silencer on our engine that’ll keep it muzzled, even if it does knock off a bit o’ our speed when we happen to use it. Luckiest thing ever you managed to get the Big Boss to send us such a bully contrivance that seems to work jest great. Listen to the racket they’re kickin’ up right now–enough to tell any chump ten miles off a crate’s headin’ his way. Jerusalem crickets! but ain’t I glad we’re fixed as we are.”

The ship far up in the heavens was almost directly over them by this time and Perk relapsed into silence, being vastly interested in watching it passing over.

Possibly he had his eyes glued on the figures–there were two occupants in the Robin’s cabin he could easily see–leaning over and doubtless closely scrutinizing the intricacies of the ragged shoreline below, hoping to make important discoveries.

If the leading figure, piloting the craft, was actually Oscar Gleeb, onetime noted Hun ace over in the Argonne, it might be Perk, with his past war history rising up to thrill him afresh, may have found himself half expecting to hear a terrific explosion close by on the shore as the German flier let drop some sort of bomb, with the idea of striking their concealed bus which his keen eyes might have detected despite their wonderful camouflage.

But nothing like that came to pass and the cruising ship kept moving in a northerly direction, growing less distinct as miles were being covered at the fast clip it swept along.

“Cripes! that was worth somthin’ to glimpse, bet your sweet life, partner,” Perk finally observed as he ventured to make a little movement, feeling dreadfully cramped and the danger of discovery growing momentarily less as the first shades of coming evening began to gather around the secluded cove. “Jest as like as not they started away down toward the tip o’ the mainland, an’ hev been examinin’ every mile o’ the coast, bent on doin’ a clean job while they’re at it. An’ if they meet up with no luck mebbe now they’ll make up their minds it was only a false alarm, and let her go at that.”

Presently they could no longer glimpse the faintest sign of the scout plane–when last seen it was still heading up the coast as though making for some destination where action awaited the members of its daring crew.

“The passing of that crate settles one thing, anyway,” observed Jack presently.

“As what, partner?” queried Perk, who had already begun to denude the anchored amphibian of its covering, as though it was settled they need no longer fear being spied upon from above.

“We needn’t bother striking into the south when starting out to look for suspicious lights, such as would tell of business being put through–those boys are right now heading for their rendezvous and it’s our game to chase after them, as soon as nightfall makes it safe to get a move on.”

“That suits me fine, Jack old hoss. I’m right sick o’ keepin’ our nose stuck so close to the ground–me for the high places where I c’n get my lungs filled with clean air–this swamp stuff don’t make no sort o’ hit with me, I’m tellin’ you. Gosh! looky at that bunch o’ measly big pelicans flappin’ their wings as they fly close to the water, headin’ to some island where they have a rookery, like as not. An’ Jack, honest to goodness if I didn’t see the head an’ knobby eyes o’ a monster scaly ’gator stickin’ up out o’ the water in the lagoon jest now. Got me goofy, this sorter thing, an’ I’m asighin’ for the air lanes two miles high.”

“I understand just how you feel, Perk, but hold your horses a bit. Hurry is something we’ve got to fight shy of in this game of hide-and-seek with these dangerous smugglers of the gulf coast. As smart a group of men as we can ever claim to be, have bucked up against the gang and dropped out of the chase–more than a few of whom have disappeared mysteriously, and up at Headquarters it’s believed they’ve met with foul play. This big Mex gulf hides a heap of secrets and has ever since old Blackbeard and that crowd of buccaneers used to sink Spanish galleons after looting them of their gold cargo and sending hundreds of poor wretches to a watery grave.”

“I’m wise to all them facts, partner,” piped up Perk, grinning amiably, “an’ I sure don’t hanker after bein’ sent down to that port o’ missin’ men in no hurry. I’ll stick it out on this line jest as long as you say an’ try to keep from grumblin’. Thar goes the last o’ the rotten stuff overboard, Boss, an’ we’re all clear again. While we’re a’waitin’ till the last speck o’ daylight slickers away, wouldn’t it be right smart if we set our teeth in some o’ that fine grub I laid in, to keep us from starvin’ to death?”

“Suits me okay, buddy; suppose you trot it out and we’ll pas the time away bolstering up our strength–no telling what we may have before us tonight if we happen to strike rich pay-dirt.”

Accordingly they busied themselves with what to Perk especially was a most agreeable occupation, for it must be confessed that the Maine lad possessed a fairly good appetite while his capacity for storing away good things was something close to marvelous.

So the night settled down around them–sounds indicative of a Florida coast camping ground began to make themselves manifest–mullet jumped up out of the brackish water where some stream emptied its tide straight from the Everglades into the gulf, to fall back again with resounding splashes. Now and then there was a rush, and a great deal of agitation of the water close to one of the mangrove islands, showing where some fierce piratical deep water fish was making an evening meal of the unlucky mullet–several wild ducks came spinning along from other shore places to settle further in where the reedy islands offered effectual shelter from night-raiding owls and hawks that could see in the dark.

“Gee whiz!” Perk was saying as he finished eating and started to put away what sandwiches and other stuff had been left over, “this sure must be a dandy place to do some shore shootin’ an’ if I hadn’t other fish to fry I’d like to hang around a week’r so, takin’ toll o’ ducks, turkey, an’ deer up on the mainland, with like as not a bobcat, or even a panther in the bargain!”

“All very fine for those who are down here sporting for sport, brother,” Jack told him, “but our bunch has another kind of game to pull in and you’ve got to forget all this temptation so as to buckle down to business. Reckon it’s time for us to be hopping-off and getting that taste of cool, clean air a mile or so up. Shake a leg, buddy, and we’ll shove off.”

Jack, of course, had long since figured just what he meant to do when the moment arrived to leave their hiding place and take to their wings again, so after their little anchor had been drawn out of the mud, carefully washed, and then stowed away where it would take little room and not be in the way, each of the occupants of the double cockpit set about carrying out their customary duties when a launching was in order.

“All set, Mister Pilot!” remarked Perk, finally, “give her the gun, boy!”

With only a fraction of the rush and roar usually connected with a start, the amphibian, with cut-out choked down, commenced to glide through the water of the partly enclosed bay, heading straight for the jaws of land beyond which lay the open and mighty gulf.