Daring Wings
CHAPTER ELEVEN
With the advent of late spring, aviation became the news of the day.
Flyers were planning trans-Atlantic hops, endurance tests and Arcticexploration. The adventure which held Tim's interest was the Arcticflight which Capt. Rayburn Rutledge, famed explorer, was planning acrossthe top of the world. Not entirely satisfied with the efforts of otheraerial explorers, Rutledge still hoped to find a hidden continent underthe ice and snow of the Northland.
A great newspaper syndicate had undertaken to finance his trip and Tim'spaper had contributed $1,000. Tim read every word of Rutledge's planswith avid interest, and made a thorough study of the conditions in theArctic. It was just the flight he had dreamed about ever since ArthurWinslow, dean of the air mail flyers, had planted the seed in his mindonly a few months before.
On his trip to the west coast, Rutledge stopped in Atkinson and in hisinterview with the explorer, Tim learned in detail of the plans for theflight over the top of the world. Then Rutledge soared over the GreatSmokies on his way to Seattle, his embarkation point for Alaska.
The big news came unexpectedly. Rutledge had been injured in anautomobile accident in Seattle; was definitely out of the flight forthat year, yet the plane was ready, fully equipped, supplies had beenshipped to the far north, and every detail cared for. The time for theadventure was ripe.
Tim read and dreamed and when his managing editor, speaking for thenewspaper syndicate, asked him to take over the flight and carry on,Tim's happiness knew no bounds. He felt it was the opportunity of alifetime and within an hour after his acceptance, word was sent out onthe humming press association wires that Tim Murphy and Ralph Parsons,the flying reporters of the Atkinson News, would attempt the daringArctic adventure.
Another month elapsed before they were ready to leave Atkinson on thestart of their long trip. Tim spent his last evening with Dan Watkins inthe quiet of his friend's room.
Dan had gone over all the plans with Tim and agreed that they had anexcellent chance to succeed in their mission.
"And here's a bit of good news, Tim," he added, just before the flyingreporter took his leave, "I have a hunch that if you succeed Carson willmake you the aviation editor of the News."
"You really think so, Dan?" Tim's words reflected his hope andeagerness.
"I certainly do," replied the copy reader. "From what I accidentallyoverheard this afternoon when he was talking with the business manager,things are all set--providing you succeed."
"Then I'll make it across the top of the world or bust up in theattempt," said Tim determinedly.
The farewells the next day were brief for there is little time on adaily paper for leave-taking and Tim and Ralph were glad that it was so.A few sincere good wishes from Dan and their managing editor, and theyfound themselves on the Overland limited, bound for the coast where theywould embark for the voyage along the coast to Alaska.
A week later when their steamer pulled away from the dock, Tim gazed atSeattle's skyline but his thoughts were in the far north as they churneddown Puget sound. He was actually bound for the Arctic! Really going tofly across the heart of the great unknown!
His dream had not been a dream after all but he was sensible enough torealize that only by hard work and the whole-hearted cooperation ofRalph had he been able to turn his dream into a reality. Good old steadyRalph. Perhaps he wasn't the speediest sort of a fellow but he wasreliable and could always be counted on in coming through in a crisis.And after all that was what counted on such an adventure as they werefacing.
The trip up the coast and into the interior of Alaska was uneventful.When they reached Fairbanks they found that their plane had arrivedsafely and mechanics were already at work assembling it. Days passedlike hours as they made their final preparations and it was June beforeTim announced that they were ready to make the first hop of their longtrip.
On a bright morning in early June they loaded their equipment into themonoplane, waved goodbye to mechanics who had helped soenthusiastically, and headed northward.
Then--fog!
Cold, bone chilling blasts from the Arctic swirled around the high peaksof the Endicott range and forced the trim, gray monoplane plane up andup. Inside the cabin of the little ship Tim and Ralph were eagerlytrying to see through the drifting fog banks ahead and below them. Theair was bitter cold.
It seemed hours to them since they had skimmed over the field atFairbanks, flirted the tail of the plane into the air and headednorthward across the heart of Alaska for Point Barrow, the northernmostoutpost of civilization in that part of North America. For over an hourthe weather had been cold but clear--then the dreaded fog. It had forcedthem higher and higher until they were almost at the ceiling for theirheavily loaded plane. For four hours they had plunged blindly ahead,depending solely on their instruments and hoping against hope that theywere still on their course.
Tim pored over his charts while Ralph handled the stick. Even a slightdeviation from their course would cause them to miss Point Barrow andeither go far out over the Arctic Ocean or come down at some lonely spotin the interior of Alaska.
Tim nudged Ralph and pointed to the clock on the instrument board. Theyhad been in the air a little more than five hours. If the fog would onlyclear they might sight Point Barrow. But the fog refused to lift.
It was useless to go further north and with a bitter face Tim stareddown at the drifting banks of gray. A flight across the top of theworld--it was the ambition of his life and now, at the very outset, theywere apparently doomed to failure through a whim of nature.
Ralph's features were set in equally bitter lines for he knew how muchthe proposed flight over the top of the world meant to the youngexplorer. Even in the face of disaster few words passed their lips.
But now months of planning were worthless before the drifting grayclouds. Helplessly, the men in the monoplane cruised around and around,desperately clinging to the hope that the fog would clear. The minuteswere speeding, drinking great gulps of precious fuel and their time inthe air was nearing an end.
In less than an hour they would be forced to plunge down through the fogto whatever fate the gods of the air had prepared for them. If luck waswith them, they might land without cracking up too badly and with therifles, concentrated food and snowshoes which they had in the planepreparatory to their hop off from Point Barrow, they might be able toreach Barrow or find some trapper's cabin. They might--but the chanceswere slim and Tim and Ralph now made no attempt to hide their anxiety.
Half an hour more of gas; half an hour more of life. The chill of theArctic was creeping into their bones; their faces were white with thecold and the little thermometer on the side of the ship registered wellbelow zero. Anything but pleasant weather for a forced landing andprobable smashup.
Then Ralph let out a yell. Far to the right there was a rift in the fogand without a moment's hesitation, he headed for it with the motor onfull. They shot downward in a long glide, down and through the walls ofgray--down and underneath the fog, which was lifting rapidly.
Ahead of them was the rugged coast of North Alaska and Tim managed toget his bearings. They were not more than eight or ten miles west ofPoint Barrow. With lighter hearts and a motor that was singing sweetlyin spite of the sub-zero temperature, they skimmed along the coast. Lessthan ten minutes later they swooped low over the huddle of buildingsthat is Point Barrow and out to the pack ice where they landed, turnedaround, and taxied back toward the village to be greeted by the handfulof Eskimos and the crew of the government radio station.
After hasty greetings, Tim and Ralph, still bundled in their heavyclothes, turned their attention to the plane and refused to leave ituntil they had satisfied themselves that everything thing was O.K.
Early the next day they were back on the ice, working over themonoplane, repacking their equipment and filling the gas and oil tanks,for now that they were ready, they intended to take advantage of thefirst favorable weather.
Tim was whistlin
g as he worked in the cockpit, making a finalinspection, while Ralph busied himself on the motor. Carefully hechecked the equipment, the supply of concentrated food, snowshoes,knives, rifles, and a hood and heater for the motor. A forced landing inthe heart of the Arctic would not find them unprepared and the stout,specially constructed wooden cockpit would provide them with a realshelter. He was working with a rifle when Ralph climbed in beside him.
"Motor O.K.?" Tim asked.
Ralph nodded and tucked long legs underneath as he sat down. He watchedTim work over the rifle for several minutes before he spoke.
"What's the use of taking all that stuff?" He pointed to the rifle, thepile of soft-nosed bullets beside it, the snowshoes, the axe and otherequipment fastened to the walls of the cockpit. "If we come down outthere," and he pointed toward the bleak stretches of the Arctic, "it'scurtains for us."
Ralph wasn't trying to hang crepe. He was simply stating the situationas he saw it, tinged with an airman's sense of fatality.
Tim kept on with his work; he knew Ralph well. When he did answer, itwas with carefully chosen words.
"Simply this, Ralph, if we come down out there we've still got a goodchance of coming through. With snowshoes, this concentrated food, plentyof warm clothing, plus a good rifle and lots of ammunition, we can livefor months. Not scared, are you?" The last words were whipped out.
"Scared? Me?" Ralph's question was one of amazement. "I'm not scared andyou know it but a 2,200 mile flight over the jumping off place isn't thenicest thing in the world. But I'm here and I'm going through with it."
Tim, laughing at his friend's evident indignation, turned to him. "Iknow you are, Ralph, and we'll come out on top in the end. Now get outof here and let me stow this stuff away. If the weather is favorable,we'll hop off as soon as we can get some sleep."
Twelve hours later every inhabitant of Point Barrow was down on the icepack watching the flyers' final preparations. A final inspection, a roarof the motor, and Ralph flirted the tail of the plane around. The motor,on full, drove a cloud of snow and ice into the faces of the littlecluster of Eskimos and radio operators, and the monoplane bumped overthe ice. It gained speed slowly.
Inside the little cabin Tim and Ralph were straining forward, fairlythrowing their energy into the roar of the motor and praying that theywould gain air speed.
The skis on the under carriage finally left the rough ice; wobbled inthe air for a moment, looking as though they were on the feet of adrunken man, and then plunked to the ice. The plane careened and Tim andRalph were hurled against the sides of the cabin with sickening thuds asa ski crumpled under the shock and one wing drooped low, almost scrapingthe ice. Ralph his hands clinging to the controls, was fighting theplane in an attempt to check its speed before any damage could be done.
He finally nosed it up an easy incline of snow and the flyers hopped outto inspect the damage. A minute later they were surrounded by theirEskimo friends. One of the metal skis was damaged beyond repair, and Timthanked heaven he had had the foresight to put an extra pair in theplane before they left Fairbanks. With the Eskimos to keep the wing onthe damaged side from dragging, Ralph got his ship turned around andback at the edge of the ice pack. Their first attempt had failed.
Working feverishly in an effort to replace the damaged ski and to takeadvantage of the good weather, Tim and Ralph labored on the plane, thenumbing cold forcing them to stop at short intervals to warm theirchilled hands.
Four hours later they were ready for the second attempt. With theEskimos cheering as loudly as before, they started over the uneven icepack. The plane bumped and swayed as it gained speed, calling for allthe mastery in the capable hands of Ralph, but it was going faster thanon the first attempt. It looked like a sure thing this time, and bothyoung adventurers were congratulating themselves when one ski struck ahummock, the rapidly moving ship swung off its course and before Ralphcould right it, dove over a snow bank and headed at right angles to itsintended course. By quick work they cut the motor and stopped the planebefore it had rammed its nose into a snowbank.
Tim grinned a little ruefully as he looked at Ralph. Two attempts hadfailed and just when conditions were ideal for their success.
"I'll get this ship off the ice or bust in the attempt!" Ralph hadsensed the question in his friend's mind.
The plane had not been damaged and with the help of the willing Eskimos,they pulled it out of the soft snow. It was evident to both Tim andRalph that it would be impossible to make a take off from the rough icepack near Point Barrow. Further out on the pack, the ice was smootherand three miles from the village they found a suitable stretch.
Another day was spent in dragging the plane over the ice and clearingaway the rough spots on their new field. But when they had finished,they had a smooth runway more than half a mile in length and wide enoughfor a good margin of safety. A smashup now would mean failure for theyear since a new plane could not be secured in time for another attempt.
Tim and Ralph planned to snatch a few hours sleep and then take off, forday and night were one in the Arctic summer.
They had hardly dropped asleep when an operator from the radio stationawakened them with the news that a severe storm was reported sweepingdown the coast. The adventurers hastily donned their clothes and hurriedacross the pack where they covered the plane with heavy tarpaulins andstaked them down. Tim was loath to desert his ship, but the song of thechill blasts that were sweeping over the ice warned them that it wouldmean sure death to remain on the windswept pack. After reassuringthemselves that they had done everything possible to protect the plane,they started back for Point Barrow on a run.
The cry of the storm was louder, and far in the west the sky was graywith sweeping snow clouds. The flyers struggled on; Point Barrow wasless than half a mile away. Then dense curtains of snow swirled aboutthem and Point Barrow might have been a million miles away. The cold wasintense; the snow blinding, but arm in arm they staggered on, trying tokeep at right angles to the blasts. Ralph was rapidly becoming numb forhe had donned only comparatively light clothes when they had startedtheir dash to the plane. Now his feet were dragging and his body chilledto the bone. He was half dazed, too, with the desperateness of theirsituation. With the village perhaps only a few feet away, the wall ofsnow shut them in as effectively as though they were in another world.Ralph's feet refused to move and he dropped to the ice, exhausted.
Tim slapped his companion's face, beat his arms and legs, but theaviator's mind refused to respond and he lay helpless. Struggling withhis friend, Tim finally managed to swing his body over his shoulders andhe staggered slowly on through the swirling snow. His double burden wassapping his strength and his feet were like lead. The end was near. Hecould hardly put one foot ahead of another.
"One-two, one-two, one-two." Slowly his feet obeyed the command, thenrefused, and he pitched forward, pinned to the ice by Ralph's body.
They might have been centuries on the ice for all Tim and Ralph knew,but when they came to, they were in the radio station, clothing off andtheir bodies undergoing snow massages. Neither one had suffered muchfrom the effects of the experience although the Eskimos had found themjust in time. Nervous exhaustion more than anything else had beenresponsible for their collapse on the ice.
The wind and snow raged for three days, and during that time Tim andRalph spent their hours in sleep and stowing away plenty of good food,for the experience in the storm had warned them that they must havetheir bodies as well as their minds on edge if they hoped to succeed ontheir flight over the top of the world.
By the fourth day the skies had cleared, although the cold was intense.As soon as they could get into their clothes, Tim and Ralph headed aparty across the ice, anxious to discover what damage the storm mighthave done to the plane. The tarpaulin-covered ship looked like a model Tsnow house but when they had removed the snow and the heavy canvascovering, they found the plane intact. The strong wind had swept snowclear of their runway and after warming up the motor and giving it afinal
test, they were ready for another attempt.
Eskimos were dispatched to the village to bring compasses and extraclothing while Tim and Ralph satisfied themselves that the plane was inperfect condition. When the party from Point Barrow returned, theybrought two messages from the radio station. One was that weatherconditions were as near perfect as possible and that the storm which hadraged for three days had passed down into the Hudson Bay country.
The other message was from their managing editor.
"Eyes of the entire world on your daring attempt. Our every wish foryour success.--Carson."
The message cheered both flyers for they well knew the dangers they wereabout to face.
Tim installed the compasses, unrolled his charts and checked them againwhile Ralph idled the motor and then ran it up and down the scale withnever a miss.
They were ready. The Eskimos jerked the chocks out from under the skis,and the trim little monoplane shot down the smooth runway, bound on oneof the most daring flights in the history of aviation!