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

CHAPTER VI
THE TEAR-BOMB ATTACK

It was certainly a thrilling moment for Perk as he crouched there in his awkward cubicle back of the pilot and waited for the proper second to arrive when his accuracy at throwing the bombs would be tested.

Jack meanwhile had his hands full attending to his part of the business–it was of course of prime importance that they should drop down as close to the deck of the schooner as possible so the full effect of the bursting tear-bombs might be felt by those struggling smugglers and hijackers, but there was the mast of the cruising vessel to bear in mind since it towers many feet in the air.

To strike this spar would entail danger of a crash, or having their landing-gear torn away, which would prove a disaster. Consequently Jack held himself in readiness to once more start his engine when sufficiently near the object of his attack.

Perk knew just when their downward velocity terminated, for not only were they again on a level keel, but the motor commenced working with its customary intensity and the whole fusilage quivered as usual when they were under way.

All this had consumed mere fragments of a minute and Perk had already drawn back his hand to make ready for his first toss. It was his intention to follow this up with a second bomb, hurled in double-quick order, for a dual fire would make the results more complete.

Jack left it completely to his comrade to decide just when to let fly, relying on the lessons Perk had taken along those lines in order to make himself as near perfect as possible. If it so chanced that their initial attack turned out to be futile, it was always possible for the fighting airship to swing around so as to permit a second attempt.

Much would depend on just how those who were struggling like mad wolves on the deck of the schooner to gain or retain possession of the spoils took the attack from the air. Jack rather fancied they would be panic stricken at having a grim spectre of the skies descend on them like a plunging eagle and before they could possibly recover sufficient energy to strike back, the monster roc must have winged past, and the pungent gas started to affect their eyes, rendering them frantic with a threatened temporary blindness.

Then Perk began his share of the vicious attack. He followed out his prearranged programme with machine-like movements, sending his first bomb with such cleverness that it struck close to the stern, for Jack had made his hawk-like swoop so as to pass completely along the entire length of the deck–this in order to give his working pal a better chance to fulfill his assignment.

Even before that missile struck, Perk had instantly changed the other bomb to his eager right hand and in a rapid-fire way sent it, too, hurtling downward, to crash further on close to the bow.

Then they were speeding into space beyond the bowsprit of the anchored rum-runner, with Jack starting to climb in order to bank and swing around, so as to complete the job if his first endeavor lacked in any detail.

Lucky indeed for the two aviators that they had their goggles on, else they too might have suffered from the fumes that so quickly spread in every direction as though fanned by the night breeze. Perk afterwards admitted that he had caught a whiff of the penetrating gas despite the covering helmet and close-fitting goggles but thanks to the haste with which Jack carried their ship past, the gas had little or no effect.

The clamor still continued, if anything, redoubled, for now the element of fear had gripped the hearts of every man on board both boats as they felt that terrible, unseen agency stabbing at their eyes and making the stoutest writhe with agony and alarm, thinking they must be doomed.

Jack could easily comprehend why they should be demoralized under the prevailing conditions–there had been enough excitement in the air to start with when the hijacker crowd boarded the rum-runner and joined issues with the crews of the two allied boats but when from out of the skies there descended a swooping monster, apparently about to fall upon them as might a stray meteor from unlimited space in the firmament, and that strange, racking pain gripped their eyes, nothing but panic could describe their condition with any degree of accuracy.

But one element was now lacking in the dreadful turmoil–Perk could no longer detect the quick percussion of blows, as fists and clubbed firearms clashed against human bodies backed by a fierce anger that had been fanned into a blaze by injuries received and a sense of impending victory, with the spoils in sight.

Apparently every man among them was thinking of nothing save his own individual sufferings and terror–unable to see with any degree of certainty, they must be staggering this way and that, colliding with each other and then one by one either falling into the water or else jumping aboard the speedboat so conveniently nearby.

Jack had by this time brought the ship around again so as to head into the wind as before. Perk, divining that this meant a second slash at the mob on the sloop’s deck reached out for another relay of missiles. Now that he had got started he was in prime condition to “keep the ball rolling” until there did not remain a single hijacker or smuggler aboard the rum-runner.

But Jack, more inclined to pity than the former war ace, did not make that second dip–he had a good idea the punishment thus dealt out with their initial swoop would be severe enough to clear the deck and set the late rival forces to quitting the vicinity of the ill smelling sloop with the utmost speed, regardless of the means employed to accomplish such a retreat while the going held good.

Perk could hear splash after splash, as though the frenzied sufferers in their agony had been seized with the possibility of cooling water being a sovereign remedy for the ills that had so suddenly gripped their aching eyeballs.

Perk was chuckling to himself, even as he continued to crouch there, and held a third tear bomb ready for instant use when Jack was pleased to give him a fitting opportunity to throw it.

“Zowie!” he was telling himself, “if that don’t make me think o’ the times when us boys lined up on a dock and made the dive, one right after another–plunk–plunk–plunk! Go to it, you terriers–swim for the shore, boys, and good luck to you all. Our job’ll be to pick up the rum-boat with her juicy cargo, an’ hand her over to some Government official Jack knows about around these diggings. High–low–Jack an’ the smugglin’ game–that spells the hull thing I kinder guess!”

Perk was by no means so lacking in sagacity not to understand just why his comrade was hanging fire and keeping at a respectful distance from the sloop. He wished sufficient time to elapse so that most of the penetrating gas from the tear bombs would be carried off on the night wind and it might be reckoned safe for them to go aboard.

He could vision the terrified hijackers after their speedy plunge overboard managing to find their several boats and dragging themselves over the gunwales with but one thought in their bewildered minds, and that to put as much distance between themselves and the rum-runner as possible.

He even told himself he could catch the sound of splashing and oars working madly in the locks, although this may have been only imagination on Perk’s part, but for one thing, he did glimpse a moving light and could detect a chugging movement such as would accompany the inglorious flight of the speedboat, racing for some shore harbor.

Silence followed, as though all the human elements in that late wild tumult had managed to leave the scene of their defeat. Still Jack continued to swing around in a short circle, showing how even with the spoils of victory close within their reach he could keep to his standard maxim of “watch your step!”

Minutes passed, and it went without question that the penetrating gas must be well swept away by the night wind so that it would be safe for them to board their prize and take a quick inventory of the illicit cargo.

Perk knew the time for action had arrived when he felt the plane head toward the surface of the gulf, as though it was Jack’s intention to drop just back of the sloop’s stern when they could taxi alongside and readily climb to the low deck.

There was nothing surprising about their coming in contact with the surface of the water–Jack had acquired a habit of making perfect landings whether ashore or with pontoons. Knowing this, Perk never looked for anything else.

They came down with hardly any more of a splash than a pelican might have made and almost instantly Jack started taxiing ahead in the direction of the nearby anchored sloop.

Perk had set the third tear-bomb down with the belief that there would be no necessity for his using it. Silence hung about the sloop, and he had decided there could be no one around, unless, when they clambered over the side, they should discover some poor chap who had succumbed to the provoking gas or else been stunned by a blow in the wild melee that had raged previously.

Just the same wise old Perk did not mean to be caught off his guard and so he dragged out a formidable looking automatic, supplied by the Secret Service to all its accredited agents as a means for compelling a surrender on the part of any “wanted man” when overtaken in his flight.

The head-phones had been disconnected so there was nothing to hinder a prompt boarding of the captured boat when Jack gave the word. With the glorious flush of victory thrilling his whole frame Perk stood by to fend off as they drew close to the squatty stern. It would be his duty to clamber out on one wing and get aboard, carrying a rope by means of which the floating airship could be secured to the water craft.

This he managed to accomplish without much difficulty, wondering while so doing whether he and Jack might not be making history, for he suspected that never before in the annals of aviation had an amphibian plane been afforded a chance to take a prize of war in such an original fashion as bombarding the enemy crew with tear-gas bombs and causing them to flee in mad haste.

It was an exultant Perk who stood erect on the deck and waved his flying helmet with the proud air of a neophyte hunter planting his foot on the body of his first slain lion or tiger.

CHAPTER VII
A WHITE ELEPHANT ON THEIR HANDS

“Come on in, Jack old hoss, the water’s fine!” was the way Perk greeted his chum after gaining the deck of the captured rum-runner.

“First make that rope fast somehow so we’ll run no risk of losing our floating crate,” Jack advised him.

“Yeah, that’s just what I’m goin’ to do, buddy,” continued the other, as he proceeded to make fast to the sloop’s wheel after which Jack managed to clamber aboard.

There were lanterns scattered around, and in the haste with which the afflicted crew had abandoned their ship no one had bothered about extinguishing them. By means of the meagre illumination afforded by them, the two airmen were able to take a fairly comprehensive survey of their surroundings.

“Huh! I kinder guessed we’d find a bunch o’ the scrappin’ critters stretched out, an’ lookin’ all bloody like,” ventured Perk, with possibly a shadow of regret in his voice and manner, “but shucks! never a one do I set my lamps on. Here’s a case or two o’ wet goods been busted open, seems like, in all that kickup an’ mebbe now some o’ the wild boys got a taste that helped keep ’em in the roarin’, tearin’ fight they had but looks as if every man must a’ been mighty keen on jumpin’ his bail. Wow! I can’t blame ’em any, if the way my eyes feel is a fair sample o’ what they got served out to ’em!”

“You said it, partner,” echoed Jack, “but keep from rubbing it in, if you know what’s good for you. The gas is being carried away right along by the breeze, so let’s forget it and take a look around.”

“Let’s,” echoed Perk, always more or less curious and eager to “peek” when the chance offered.

It seemed as though they were alone on the anchored sloop that was rising and falling on the long rollers coming in off the wide gulf. Piles of cases lay on the deck around them, ready to be transferred to such smaller craft as were expected to draw alongside with orders for them from some mysterious central clearing house. Possibly there were many more similar packages down below, for the sloop was evidently heavily laden.

Now and then the voluble member of the firm would let out a crisp exclamation as though those keen eyes of his had run across some visible sign of the recent rough-house disagreement that tickled him more or less.

“We sure broke in on a sweet little party all right, Jack,” he observed, at one time with a chuckle, “see, here’s a broken bottle that I guess must a’ been smashed on some poor guy’s bean and from the blood spots hereabout he had a plenty, but still he managed to skip out when the grand march started. An’ looky what I found–a coat that’s tore into shreds. Gee whiz! but that was some hot tamale scrap, believe me. I’d give somethin’ for a chance to look in on the round.”

Jack was apparently puzzling his own head over something that did not hit him as so very humorous.

“Yes,” he told Perk, with a grimace, “we’ve made a bully capture all right, partner, but when you come to think twice it may be we’ve got a white elephant on our hands after all.”

“Huh! what d’ye mean by sayin’ that, old pal?” questioned the other, who apparently saw nothing in the affair calculated to create any tendency toward dismay in his mind. “You got me in a tail spin, partner–lift the lid, won’t you, an’ gimme a look in?”

“Well, we’ve got the rum-boat okay, haven’t we?” demanded Jack.

“Looks thataways, I guess,” Perk admitted.

“Just so, and what d’ye reckon we’re going to do with it?” continued the head pilot, hitting straight from the shoulder as usual.

“Why–er–ginger pop! that’s so, old hoss, what? Mebbe now the shoe’s on the other foot, an’ it’s the blamed sloop that’s got us held up. Would it be proper to set the bally boat afire and see all this hot stuff go up in flames? or we might knock a hole in the bottom, an’ sink her right where she stands, though that might get us in Dutch with our people, since the rum-runners could come around an’ salvage this case stuff again. Only way to settle the puzzle’d be for us to have a bargain day sale, opening case after case, knockin’ the neck off each and every bottle and makin’ all the fish in this corner o’ the gulf dizzy with a mixture o’ rum an’ seawater.”

Jack laughed at hearing all this wild stuff come from the bewildered Perk.

“Strikes me I’m not going to get much satisfaction from you, partner,” he bluntly told the other. “Our folks expect to see some evidence to prove the big yarn we’re bound to tell–about our dropping those tear bombs and scattering the fighting hijackers and rum-runners and all that stuff which means that by hook or by crook we’ve just got to get clear with this sloop and all the contraband that’s aboard–hand it over to some of Uncle Sam’s agents along the gulf coast, whose addresses I was given before leaving Washington, to be used in just such circumstances as these. So try again, and see if you can suggest some way it can be put through.”

Thereupon Perk started scratching his tousled head in a fashion he always followed when given a problem to solve, since his wits were apt to be a bit rusty and in need of oiling so as to cause them to function properly.

“Wouldn’t that jar you?” he finally exploded, “we jest can’t load our crate with the bally stuff, ’cause it couldn’t lift a tenth o’ the cargo we grabbed so easy-like. An’ as to towin’ the sloop after us by a hawser, it’d be too much like a caterpiller creepin’ along. I own up it’s got me buffaloed. Jack, an’ if anything’s goin’ to be done it’s bound to come out o’ your own coco.”

“No hurry at all, brother,” the other told him, little chance of those lads making back this way in a hurry, since they got the scare of their lives tonight. “Let’s look around some more and possibly a suggestion will pop up to give us the glad hand and see us out of the mire.”

“Suits me okay old hoss,” agreed Perk, nodding his head confidently as though he had known all along that such a clever partner as Jack would have a spare card up his sleeve to play when things began to look unusually gloomy.

Perk picked up one of the lanterns, for he knew they would need some sort of illumination if they intended to explore the regions below deck which he termed the “hold,” not being much of a sea-going man, although capable of filling quite a number of different callings from engineer to air pilot.

He had not taken half a dozen steps after descending the short flight of steps leading below when he came to a sudden halt.

“Glory be! what was that?–sounded real like a groan, Jack!” he exclaimed, trying to peer into the gloom of the hold, where there seemed to be row after row of the same type of wooden cases with foreign inscriptions burned on them.

“Just what it was, Perk,” agreed his chum, pressing close behind the holder of the lantern, “lift the light a bit, I think I can make out something stretched out flat–yes, it must be a man, I’m certain.”

“Kinder guessed we’d run across one or two o’ the scrappers knocked out an’ left behind in the getaway rush,” commented Perk who had drawn his automatic before starting to explore the lower regions of the rum-runner, not knowing what they were apt to meet there.

He continued to advance, and presently they were bending over a dismal looking object, undoubtedly a man who might be a member of the crew, judging from his rough sea clothes and his bare feet.

There could be no question but that he had been in the fight, since his face was bloody and his general appearance betokened rough treatment. Undoubtedly he had been senseless at the time the tear-gas penetrated every part of the small vessel, and was only now coming to.

Jack lost no time in examining the pitiful looking object while Perk waited to hear what his verdict would be. After all the old fighter bore no malice toward any of these reckless men who were so assiduously engaged in breaking the law of the land by running contraband goods into Uncle Sam’s domains and he was just as willing to bind up the wounds of this luckless adventurer as if the other had only been an ordinary sailor in sore trouble.

“Nothing serious, it seems,” was Jack’s decision. “He has had a pretty hard knock that started the blood from his nose and as like as not laid him out here senseless for there’s a fine big lump on his head.”

“So we’ll have one prisoner to fetch in after all,” chortled Perk, as if pleased by the prospect of being able to produce a witness to testify to the work they had just accomplished.

CHAPTER VIII
THE SPOILS OF VICTORY

“Take hold, Perk,” continued Jack, without losing any time. “We’ve got to get this poor chap out in the open air for it’s pretty bad down below here, and bothers my eyes more or less.”

So between them they managed to carry the wounded rum-runner to the deck, where he was laid down, still groaning, although showing no other signs of life.

“Step lively, brother, and see if you can run across any fresh water, so’s to pour a little down his throat,” Jack went on to say. “I can dip up some salty stuff by reaching down over the gun’l and mop his forehead so’s to fetch him around.”

“Okay, boss!” snapped the ever ready Perk, “kinder guess I spied a barrel with a faucet–hope now she don’t hold spirits instead o’ water. Watch my smoke, that’s all.”

He was indeed back in what he would term a “jiffy,” bearing a battered and rusty tin kettle in his hand which proved to contain something that might, with reservations, be called “drinking” water though it proved to be lukewarm and possibly full of “wigglers,” as the larvae of mosquitoes are called.

Jack raised the man’s head, which he had succeeded in washing to some extent, and forcing open his mouth allowed some of the contents of the pannikin to drain down his throat.

This set him to coughing and so he came to, showing all the signs of bewilderment that might be expected after going to sleep in the midst of a most clamorous battle with the reckless hijackers, and now waking up to find strange faces bending over him, heads that were encased in close-fitting helmets and the staring goggles of airmen.

“You’re all right, brother,” Jack assured the man, on seeing how alarmed he appeared to be. “Your crew skipped out and deserted you, but we’ll stand by. Consider yourself a prisoner of Uncle Sam, although you’ll not be punished any to speak of if only you open up and tell all you know about the owners and the skipper of this smuggler craft. What’s her name and where are you from?”

The man had by this time recovered sufficiently to understand what was required of him. Jack’s manner was reassuring, and he came out of his half panic so as to make quite a civil reply to the questions asked.

So they learned that the sloop had been known as the Cicade, which Jack knew to mean a locust and that her home port was in the Bahamas, hot-bed of the smuggler league, Bimini, in fact, being its chief port of departure.

“What’re we goin’ to do with this chap?” Perk was asking. “We don’t want him to give us the slip, since he’s the on’y prisoner we got, do we, partner?”

“I reckon not, brother, and to make certain that doesn’t happen we’ll have to tie him up or fasten him to the mast here while we finish looking around. I hope to run across the ship’s papers, if they’ve got any such things aboard.”

“Leave that to me, Jack, I’m some punkins when it comes to splicin’ up a prisoner o’ war, so he can’t break away.” Perk proved himself a man of his word by securing a piece of rope, wrapping it several times around the ankles of the seaman, and finishing with a succession of hard knots such as would require the services of a sharp knife blade when it came time to liberate the captive.

The man was a pretty tough looking customer, thanks to the treatment he had met with in the merry time the rival parties had had aboard the sloop, but at least he knew when he was well off and something in Jack’s manner as well as his voice told him these strangers would go easy him if only he gave them as little trouble as possible.

So once again the pair set out to finish their exploration of the object of their latest “strafing” feat when a battle had been brought to an abrupt close with all hands in full flight simply by a dextrous movement of Perk’s arm and the tossing of a couple of innocent looking tear-bombs into the midst of the warring factions.

This time it was Jack who made the discovery. Perk saw him step over, while they were still on deck, and lift a ragged tarpaulin that seemed to cover some bulky object toward the stern of the sloop. After that one look Jack gave the well-worn covering a hitch and a toss that sent it flying revealing something that caused Perk’s eyes to stick out with astonishment, not mentioning a sudden spasm of delight.

“Wow! what’s this I’m seein’ partner?” he yelped joyously. “A reg’lar engine or I’m a crocodile from the Nile! Why, this must be what they call an auxiliary craft, fitted to use canvas or hoss power, whichever fills the bill best. You c’n ditch me if this ain’t what I’ll call luck. An’ heaps of it.”

“I had a sneaking suspicion we’d run across something like this,” confessed Jack, who nevertheless seemed just as well pleased as his comrade over the find. “It’s taking too big a chance to ship a cargo as rich as this one in a tub like this with only rotten sails to speed the craft if she happened to run afoul of a revenue cutter or one of those new sub-chasers the Coast Guard’s been fitted out with. And now the problem’s been solved, just as we hoped it would be.”

“Meanin’ we c’n get somewhere without tryin’ to tow the rum-boat behind our crate, and making a long and tiresome job o’ it, eh what, partner?” Perk suggested, with considerable animation.

“Take a look at this engine, Perk, and tell me if you reckon you could run the thing if it became necessary.”

Accordingly the other investigated and it was not long before he ventured to give his decision.

“Seems okay to me, Boss. Course I can’t jest say for sure till I tries it out, but the chances are three to one she’ll work for me.”

“We’ll soon have a chance to put that to the test, for it’s our only way to hang on to our spoils and have something to turn in for the night’s work.”

“I’m laughin’ to see how things keep happenin’ jest to suit our crowd, old hoss,” Perk went on to remark, still chuckling at a great rate. “Do we tow the ship behind the sloop, partner?”

“Not that you could notice,” he was informed. “I aim to have you stick to the rummy, while I get up a thousand feet or so and kind of play the part of an aerial scout, just like you’ve told me you used to do when you were running one of those war sausages, known as blimps in these up-to-date times. No objections, have you, Perk?”

“What, me? I should guess not,” the other exploded. “Why, it’ll be jest a rummy time with this kid, runnin’ off with the old sloop and a prisoner on board to boot. I’m tickled pink to know we’re right in action at last, after waitin’ so long, an’ ding-dongin’ around till we both got stale. But how ’bout draggin’ that ere mudhook up off the ground–think we c’n tackle the job between us, Jack?”

“Oh! That can be put through without much trouble, I reckon,” Perk was assured by the confident one. “I think if you investigate you’ll find they’ve got some sort of winch, a bit like the old-fashioned windlass we used to wind up whenever we pulled the old oaken bucket up from the country well. Let’s take a peek and make sure.”

It took them but a minute to have Jack’s guess verified, for there was a winch, with the rope of the anchor attached; all that would be necessary was to start winding and by main strength the anchor must be hauled out of the mud and lifted to the vessel’s bow, there to hang until needed again.

“No use of our stickin’ ’round these diggin’s any longer, partner,” Perk suggested. “The canvas is all clewed up or reefed, whatever they call it, so we won’t have it flappin’ around after the ship gets under way. Say the word, Boss, an’ leave the rest to me.”

“But nothing has been said as to what port we’re meaning to strike out for,” observed Jack, “and that’s a matter of considerable importance. First of all it would be apt to queer our business some if we sailed openly into Tampa, St. Petersburg, or even Key West; for some of those smart newspaper reporters would be bound to get on to the facts and like as not we’d have our pictures printed in all the papers. A fat chance we’d stand to do any more work ripping this contraband conspiracy up the back, after they got through telling things.”

“Well, I guess now that would queer our game, wouldn’t it, partner?” bleated the annoyed Perk, then brightening up as he eyed his chum in a suggestive fashion as though anticipating further interesting remarks along that particular line, he went on to add: “S’pose I’m let into the plan I know you’ve got all fixed up for us to foller.”

“All things considered,” began Jack, thus urged, “I reckon it would be the best scheme if we managed to get the rum-runner anchored back in that big bunch of mangrove islands on the outer edge of which we lay low with our crate so nicely camouflaged. For that matter we could cover the deck the same way, since it’ll be from the air most likely the danger is bound to come–through Oscar Gleeb, the German ex-war pilot.”

“Sounds good to me, buddy!” snapped Perk, grinning.

“I’ll swing around overhead, and have my eye peeled for any sign of trouble,” continued Jack, “and also keep tabs on you while on the trip south. Of course we don’t know just what speed you can coax out of that rusty old engine, but even at a minimum of six or eight miles per hour, we surely ought to get in hiding before sun-up.”

“Easy enough, Boss, and mebbe long before,” Perk agreed. “Didn’t you get the far away grumble of a marine engine working just when we climbed aboard this junk–I didn’t say anything at the time, but I guessed as how it might be that second tub turnin’ tail an’ puttin’ for the shore.”

“I made up my mind that was what it stood for,” Jack told his companion. “They listened to all that terrible racket and just made up their minds it was too hot out this way for them to make the riffle. Oh, well! two may be company, but three’s considered a crowd and we might have found we’d bitten off more than we could chew, so what does it matter?”

“We’ve gathered in the booze,” Perk was saying proudly, “or most of it anyway, together with the rum-runner, and one o’ the crew to turn State’s evidence, so what else could we wish for–I for one don’t feel greedy. Plenty more where this one came from, and the smuggling season is long. What we got to pay most attention to is liftin’ the lid, so’s to find out just who the big guns are, backing this racket an’ chances are we’re on the right road to doin’ that this very minute.”

“That’s correct, Perk, but let’s get a move on and be going.”