CHAPTER XXIII
ROSA FLIES THE SEAGULL
The next day, on the mainland, Norma visited a place of many wonders,perfected some plans, was treated to a great surprise and made aninteresting discovery, all in one afternoon.
Norma and Rosa retired as soon as their late night vigil was ended. Bymid-afternoon they were up and ready for a prowl.
They struck off on foot over the road leading to the fort on the ridgethat overlooked their village, Harbor Bells, and the Sea Tower.
They had gone but a little way when Tom McCarthy overtook them in ajeep. “Hop in,” he invited after stopping his car. “I’ll give you alift. Where you bound for?”
“Nowhere in particular,” was Norma’s reply as they all crowded into thefront seat. “We’re out for fresh air.”
“I’m going up to the fort,” Tom said. “There’s going to be a littletarget practice by the big guns. I want to see how good they are.”
“Think we’ll need their help some of these days?” Norma asked halfjokingly.
“Well, now, you never can tell.” Tom did not laugh. “There seems to bea difference of opinion. Some think America may be invaded, at least bythe air.”
“And others think it won’t,” said Norma.
“That’s right,” Tom agreed. “Me? I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”
“Oh, Tom!” Rosa broke in. “Take us to the fort. I’d just love to seeit.”
“You’re on your way right now,” Tom assured her. “At least you’ll seethe target practice at a distance. And that’s really something! But thefort, that’s different. Too many secrets in there. It takes a terrificpull to get in.”
“I’ll bet it’s a spooky place!” Rosa exclaimed.
“Oh, absolutely,” was the quick reply. “Built right out of solid rock.It would take some bomb to smash into it.”
A half hour later they found themselves standing on a sloping hillside,gazing out to sea. And at Norma’s side was a handsome young ArtilleryMajor. For the first time in her life, Norma found herself wishing shehad remained behind at Fort Des Moines for officer’s training. Anofficer may not date a private in the WACs, no matter how bright andattractive she may be.
For all that even a major can show just any attractive young lady whohappens to visit his camp the proper degree of interest and respect dueher. And Major Fairchild was not one to neglect this duty.
He explained that the large square far out on the water was not a sailbut a target, that it was being towed on a long cable by a smallmotorboat some distance from it.
He also assured her that those huge guns poking their black barrelsfrom the hillside would soon speak and that, when they did speak, shewould do well to plug up her ears.
Some ten minutes later he said, “Now the target is in position.”
“Such a long way off,” Norma murmured.
“It’s as far as Black Knob Island,” Rosa exclaimed.
“Just about the same,” Tom McCarthy agreed.
“We can blow the top off Black Knob any time we care to,” said MajorFairchild.
“Please don’t try it,” Norma begged, half laughing. “I’ve got a goodpal over there, a very good-looking WAC.”
“Are all WACs good-looking?” the Major teased.
“My pal, Betty, is,” was the prompt reply. “That’s not all, her folksare rich. Her father owns a war plant. They have a Florida estate, ayacht, and all that!”
“And she’s a WAC!” The Major whistled.
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_Even a Major Can Show Interest in an Attractive Lady_]
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“Why not?” Norma’s voice rose. “It’s our war. We’re all in it. Onewoman gave up a $20,000 a year job to join the WACs. We have severalgirls who won the _Croix de Guerre_ driving ambulances before Francefell. Yes, and some of the girls joined us because their young husbandsdied at Pearl Harbor, or North Africa. Don’t you think that’s reallywonderful?”
“I salute the WACs.” Major Fairchild saluted the girl and she returnedit in proper form. And he was not joking either. She could read that inhis eyes.
And then Tom McCarthy said, “Get ready. There’s the signal. They areabout to fire.”
“Here.” The Major pressed balls of cotton into Norma’s hand. “Put thesein your ears. Then take these—” He held out a pair of powerful fieldglasses. “Watch the target. See if they miss. Your eyes are as good asmine.”
The terrific flash and the roar of the big gun, together, made therocks shudder! Norma felt her knees tremble but she held her glasses onthe target and was rewarded by a black spot that appeared almost as ifby magic on the white square.
“Good! Almost perfect!” she exclaimed. “A little to the right, that’sall!”
“And how far from the surface of the sea?” the Major asked.
“Almost on the sea,” was the quick response.
“This is important,” said the young Major.
“It meant that this shot would have destroyed a submarine if it hadbeen in the place of the target,” Norma suggested.
“Good girl! Go to the head of the class,” he exclaimed.
“Give the credit to my father,” she replied modestly. “He was a majorin the last war. He knows a great deal and since I was his only son, hetaught me about them.”
“Oh! Then we belong to the same tribe,” exclaimed the Major. “My fatherwas an officer, too. Very often officers are born and not made. You toowill be an officer in time.”
“When I’m made an officer,” she said with a proud smile, “I’ll bring mybars to you and you shall pin them on my shoulders.”
“That,” he said, “will be a privilege and an honor.”
“They invited me to stay in Des Moines and train in the officer’sschool,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
“And why not?” he asked.
“I wanted some actual service first.”
“Well, you’re getting it.” He smiled. “And unless I read the signswrong, you are going to get your experience in overdoses from now on.”
“Oh! Do you think so?”
“I’m sure of it. There are things I can’t tell you. Keep your eyes andears wide open and don’t miss any bets. You’ll get your bars soonerthan you think.
“And now,” he handed her the glasses again, “plug up your ears. Herethey go.”
This time she took things more calmly. But the hit was hard to spot.
“Right at the water’s edge,” she exclaimed at last.
“Getting better. That’s real sub shooting.”
“But if the sub comes in the night?” she suggested.
“Then you’ll have to get out there in a plane and spot the sub for uswith a spotlight.”
“That,” said Tom, with a good-natured grin, “is my job.”
“And I’ll fly the plane for you,” Rosa volunteered.
“You fly my plane?” Tom gave vent to a roaring laugh.
Rosa’s face crimsoned. For a time she did not speak. Then in a slow,even tone, she said: “Try me!”
“All right, I will.” This time Tom did not laugh.
* * * * *
“All right, Rosa,” Tom said, when their jeep drew up to the fisherman’sdock, off which the Seagull lay at anchor, “the plane is yours, if youcan fly her.”
“You don’t mean that!” Norma said in a low tone, as Tom bent over tountie his skiff.
“Sure I do!” he replied promptly. “Give everyone a chance to show whathe can do, that’s my motto. Climb in. The back seat is wide enough foryou and me. We’ll have Rosa for our sky pilot.”
Norma hung back. “Come on,” he urged. “I’ll guarantee that no harm willcome of it.”
Ten minutes later Norma found herself beside Tom in the rear seat.Lines had been cast off and Rosa
was warming up the motor. Norma,uneasy, heaved a sigh of relief when she noticed that Tom too couldwork the controls from where he sat.
As they taxied out from behind the dock, Norma noted that the water wasa bit rough but she clenched her hands and said never a word.
The motor began to roar in earnest. Behind them raced the white foam.The plane appeared to skip from wave to wave. Then Tom said:
“Up!”
And up they rose.
Climbing steadily, they rose a thousand feet, two, three, four, five,six thousand. There above the bumpy clouds the plane leveled off andthey headed straight for Black Knob.
Tom looked first at Rosa, then at Norma. Then he grinned as he formedthe words with his lips, “Great stuff!”
Before they knew it they were over Black Knob and soaring down for alanding.
Near the tiny dock and harbor the water was calm. With real skill Rosataxied the ship right to the dock where they were greeted with joyousshouts by Betty, Millie, Mary, Grandfather, Patsy, and all the rest.
“Norma,” Betty exclaimed when the two were alone, “Rosa wasn’t reallyflying the plane, was she?”
“She certainly was!” Norma’s tone was impressive. “She took off,climbed high, spiraled down, and all the rest!”
“Then that explains—”
“What?” Norma asked.
“Oh! A lot of things.”
Norma’s mind was too busy to carry this thought through for, as theywandered over the island, she felt like a general looking over abattlefield where the enemy might attack on the morrow. She noted lowspots among the rocks where men might land from a plane or a rubberboat, tried to find the marks of high tide and studied with great carethe narrow beach beside the harbor.
Why was she doing all this? Perhaps she could not have told herself.She just did, that was all.
After a delicious lunch served at the small hotel that had been made abarracks, they prepared for the return trip.
Again Rosa took the controls and once more she made a perfect take-off.
It was growing dusk now and, as they circled above the island, Normaturned on the spotlight allowing it to play upon the dark clusters ofpines, the gray rocks and the cottage roofs. She was astonished to seehow clearly everything stood out.
“An enemy plane could bomb it to bits,” she said.
“Sure, but why?” Tom asked.
“It’s an outpost and so dangerous to approaching enemy ships or planes.”
“You mean it could be,” Tom corrected. “Just now the few who are herecould perhaps protect the island itself. That’s about all. But, I say!”he exclaimed. “You’re really good with that light!”
“Oh! Sure!” she laughed. “Rosa and I, we’re a great team!”
Oddly enough, at that moment she had the feeling of one who acts a partin a drama, a part she is sure to act again. It was strange.
“Rosa,” Norma said when at last they were back at Indian Point, headedfor Harbor Bells and a good dinner, “I never dreamed you could fly aplane.”
“Fly a plane,” Rosa threw back her plump shoulders and laughed. “Myfather is a flier; he is also a guide. In summer he takes hunting andfishing parties deep into the wilds of Canada. Ah! That is the life, tocome dropping from the skies like a wild duck and to light on a perfectspot of blue water where almost no one has ever been.
“And,” she paused to look into her companion’s eyes, “will you believeme? I have done that, too, since I was seventeen years old. Fly!” sheexclaimed. “I know you thought I was crazy in Des Moines. And, yes, Iwas crazy. Crazy to feel the stick in my hands, to hear the motor andfeel a plane move.
“Yes, I was crazy. But those boys who made fun of me, those youngfliers—I could have flown circles around every one of them. But you,you were very kind to get me out of it so very well. I have you tothank for that. And we’ll fly again some time maybe, huh? What do youthink?”
“Rosa,” said Norma, “you are a dear. And if we do fly again, I shallnot be afraid.”
After dinner Norma made a call. In her own village she had discovered abearded veteran of the photographic world, who still did a little workin his own home. He was a picturesque character who, only two yearsbefore, had moved from Portland to Indian Harbor.
To this man she had entrusted the pictures she had taken of the poorfisherman’s wife.
“How did they come out?” she asked as she entered his small, crowdedroom.
“Excellently, my dear.”
He held up some fairly large prints he had made.
“Oh! You’ve done them so well!” she exclaimed. “Won’t she be pleased!”
“She will,” he agreed. “I have a son who works on a Portland paper.With your consent I should like to send him some prints of thesestudies. They should show up well in the roto.”
“So little Norma makes the roto,” she laughed. “That would besomething. Wouldn’t Carl Langer open his eyes!”
“What’s that pig got to do with it?” the old man demanded.
“He refused to take her picture. Said he couldn’t waste his time.”
“My dear,” said the old man, “time spent in bringing happiness to thosewho have very little of this world’s goods is never wasted.”
“That’s right,” Norma agreed, “but have you seen Carl Langer’s estate?It is truly beautiful.”
“Yes, I have seen it. It is attractive. However, Carl Langer didnothing to it. He only bought it.”
“Bought it? He told me he inherited it from his father who lived inPortland.”
“Neither Carl Langer nor his father lived in Portland. I was there forfifty years. I know. He purchased his estate from the heirs of oldJudge Clark. Where he got the money I don’t know. But I could make agood guess.”
“Ah!” Norma thought as she walked slowly back to Harbor Bells. “Sosomeone else is suspicious! I wonder why Carl Langer lied to me abouthis estate.”
She found herself hoping that Lieutenant Warren would go with her tovisit that estate and to look at the picture, the masterpiece, verysoon. Yet she found herself dreading it and shuddering a little.
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