The Hunniwell boys and the platinum mystery 2 – Wyman · Library Across
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
The Hunniwell boys and the platinum mystery 2Off for Molokai
18
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
The Hunniwell boys and the platinum mystery 2
Off for Molokai
WymanEnglish
As they had expected it did not take very much urging to gain the consent of their parents although Mr. Hunniwell told them frankly that he had no faith in their hopes. “However,” he continued, “you have never been in that part of the world and if you are careful not to take any chances the trip will undoubtedly be a good one and you will enjoy it. But don’t be disappointed if you find nothing. That paper is too old to have any value in my opinion.”
They had decided to start in a week as it would take them that time to make all their preparations. Or rather Rogers told them it would take him that long as he was obliged to go back to New York and attend to several matters connected with his work. As for Bill and Gordon, they declared that they could be ready to start the next day.
It was arranged that they would pick Rogers up on the flying field on Long Island as he lived not far from there and he left late that afternoon.
“I’ll bet we find it just the same,” Gordon declared as they watched the train pull out from the station.
“Now you don’t want to get your hopes up too high,” Bill advised. “To my way of thinking it’s a mighty long shot. A hundred years is a mighty long time and the chances are that, even if the letter isn’t a fake and he never returned and got the stuff, we’ll never be able to find it.”
“Well, maybe not, but we’ll have a mighty good time hunting for it, let me tell you.”
After they had gone to bed that night they took up the conversation again.
“Say, Bill, you don’t happen to know how big that island is, do you?” Gordon asked.
“Sure do. Two hundred and sixty-one square miles.”
“How do you know?”
“Looked it up, of course.”
“And how far is it from San Francisco?”
“Twenty-one hundred miles.”
“And all the way over water.”
“Sure. There’s no bridge there.”
“Smarty.”
“Well, you asked me.”
“Know anything more about it?”
“Not much. There’s a leper colony there.”
“I knew that.”
“Indeed.”
“Know how many lepers live there?”
“No.”
“Indeed.”
“Well, you can’t expect me to know everything,” Bill laughed.
“I don’t,” Gordon chuckled.
“But I know one thing.”
“Indeed.”
“And that is I’m going to sleep if you’ll let me.”
“Far be it from me to keep your mighty intellect working over time. Good night.”
“Bon nuit.”
Impatient to be off and chafing at the delay the boys put in all the time possible going over the Albatross until Gordon declared that if they did not quit they would wear it all out before they started. “You’ve oiled that motor about a dozen times in the last two days,” he told Bill, “and you know that once in two thousand miles is a plenty.”
“And how many times have you greased that main bearing?” Bill retorted.
“Well, I guess all it needs,” Gordon laughed.
But at last the day came and they bade farewell to their parents and promised to be careful and take no unnecessary chances for the twentieth time. Rogers was awaiting them when about ten o’clock in the morning the plane settled to the ground.
“Been waiting long?” Bill asked as he leaped from the cockpit and grasped his hand.
“Only about fifteen minutes,” Rogers told him. “I’ve got all my stuff here. Think we can find room for it?”
“I reckon,” Gordon assured him. “There’s lots of room back of that back seat. What’s in that box?” he asked pointing to a wooden box about eighteen inches square.
“That’s my laboratory,” Rogers told them. “You see,” he explained, “we don’t want to bring home a hundred pounds of something that’s not worth anything. I happen to know a little about Chemistry and I’m taking along enough equipment to be able to make some tests.”
“You talk as though you really expected to find it,” Bill smiled.
“Of course I do,” Rogers told him. “What do you suppose we’re going for?”
“Platinum,” Gordon answered.
“You said it, son.”
All this time they had been busy packing away Rogers’ stuff and, as soon as the task was accomplished, they were ready for the start.
As there was no particular hurry they had decided not to attempt a non-stop flight but to land as soon as it began to get dark and spend the night at a hotel.
“We ought to get pretty near out to Chicago before dark,” Gordon declared as he got to his seat beside Bill.
“Easy,” Bill told him.
It was a perfect day as they rose in the air. There was a bit of light breeze and even that was in their favor and everything seemed auspicious.
“How quiet it is,” Rogers said as Bill started the forward propeller.
“I suppose you miss the noise of the engine,” Gordon said.
“I sure do, but it’s a happy miss,” Rogers laughed.
Bill climbed rapidly until they reached an altitude of a little over a thousand feet and then leveled the plane and increased the speed until they were making a hundred and fifty miles an hour and for some time kept it there.
“There’s Lake Erie,” Gordon announced about one o’clock, “and I move we eat.”
“Looks to me like a shower coming this way,” Bill said an hour later.
“I’ve been watching that cloud for some time,” Rogers said, “and I think we’re going to hit it.”
“Looks like it,” Bill agreed, “unless we can go over it.”
“How about landing till it passes?” Gordon asked. “I had one experience in a thunder storm and don’t exactly hanker for another.”
“Just as you say,” Bill told him. “But it looks rather low to me and I believe we could go over it without any trouble. What do you say?” he asked turning to Rogers.
“There’s no use in taking chances,” replied the older man. “But if you think there’s no danger, go ahead as far as I’m concerned.”
“I really believe it’s as safe as it would be to land,” Bill declared. “That storm is going to be a pretty good one and it might wreck the plane even on the ground. If you two are willing I’d like to try it.”
“Go to it,” Gordon declared and Rogers nodded his head in agreement.
So Bill gave the stick a sharp pull and the Albatross turned her nose upward. Up crept the needle of the altimeter until it registered ten thousand feet and still the dark clouds seemed just ahead of them. Then suddenly a thick mist enveloped them and they knew they had entered the cloud. For some time they had heard the distant mumbling of thunder and seen flashes which told them that the storm was rushing toward them. And now the wind was rapidly increasing in strength and coming directly against them.
“Think we’ll make it?” Gordon asked, and there was more than a suspicion of anxiety in his voice.
“I think we’re above the center of it,” Bill answered as he glanced over the side of the cockpit.
“Still going up?” Rogers asked.
“Yep, still going up,” Bill told him.
The flashes of lightning were closer now and the rattling of thunder was almost incessant and Bill’s heart sank as he realized he had made a mistake. “I should have landed,” he muttered as he gave the stick another pull.
Then, almost as suddenly as they had entered the cloud, the plane burst into bright sunshine.
“Hurrah, we made it,” Gordon shouted.
“And just in time if you ask me,” Bill returned. “I was beginning to get scared.”
“First time I ever was above a thunder storm,” Rogers told them as he looked over the side of the cockpit. “Just look at those streaks of lightning. Isn’t it a wonderful sight?”
“It sure is,” Gordon told him. “But let me tell you it doesn’t seem half so wonderful when you’re down there in it. And, believe me, I know what I’m talking about because I’ve been there.”
“It seems kind of lonesome up here when you can’t see the ground,” Rogers declared a few minutes later.
“We’ll be going down pretty soon,” Bill told him. “We’ve pretty nearly passed it.”
The sound of the thunder was rapidly decreasing and they could see that the heavy clouds beneath them were thinning out and soon Bill turned the nose of the plane downward.
“Next time I think we’ll land if it’s all the same to you,” Gordon told them as he caught sight of the land. “Terra firma isn’t so bad after all when a storm comes up.”
“I believe you’re right at that,” Bill agreed.
It was about seven o’clock when they decided to land for the night. They were approaching what seemed to be a fair sized town, not too large but large enough to have a hotel and a few minutes past the hour they landed just on the outskirts of the village. About a hundred yards away was a house with a large barn and Bill suggested that it looked as though they could run the plane inside if permission were given. So Gordon went up to the house and at his knock a man appeared who readily granted his request.
“And we can put you up for the night,” he added. “You see we take in tourists and supper is all ready. Matter of fact it’s about over but I guess there’s plenty left.”
“That’ll be fine,” Gordon told him.
Without much trouble they pushed the plane inside the barn, the doors of which happened to be especially wide and, a few minutes later, sat down to a splendid supper.
“What town is this?” Bill asked their host as they started to eat.
“Creston,” he told him.
“Indiana?”
“No, Creston, Iowa.”
“We sure did make good time then,” Gordon declared.
“Funny I didn’t hear your plane,” the man said.
“No, it isn’t,” Gordon told him, “because it doesn’t make hardly any noise.”
“How come?”
“Well, you see, we have an electric motor instead of a gasoline engine,” Gordon explained.
“First time I ever heard of that,” the man declared.
“And I think ours is the first one of its kind,” Gordon told him.
“Think we can make the coast to-morrow?” Gordon asked as they were getting ready for bed.
“If nothing happens and we get away by five o’clock,” Bill told him.
“And we don’t run into any more storms,” Rogers added.
They had arranged for an early breakfast and it was only a few minutes after five o’clock when they again took the air. The sky was overcast with heavy clouds and there was every prospect that it would rain before the day was much older. And the promise was fulfilled, for within an hour it was raining hard. But inside the cockpit all was cozy and, as there was little or no wind, they did not mind the bad weather.
“Better hit her up pretty lively if you expect to make the coast to-day,” Gordon advised.
“We’re doing a hundred and fifty,” Bill told him.
“Do you really mean it?” Rogers asked.
“Hundred and fifty-two to be exact.”
“It doesn’t seem possible we are going that fast,” Rogers declared.
“That’s because the old bird runs with so little fuss,” Gordon told him.
“She doesn’t make much fuss about it and that’s a fact,” Rogers agreed.
“Hark.”
“What is it?” Bill demanded.
“Plane coming,” Gordon told him.
“I hear it now,” Bill agreed.
“And, believe me, it’s doing some hiking,” Rogers added a moment later.
“I see it,” Gordon, who was using the glass, declared. “It’s coming straight for us.”
“Well, thank goodness there’s plenty of room to turn out,” Bill laughed.
“Mail plane,” Gordon announced a moment later.
“Doesn’t look as though he saw us at all,” Bill declared giving the wheel a slight turn.
“He doesn’t hear us, that’s one safe bet,” Rogers said.
A moment later and the big mail plane rushed by them at a distance of only a few rods and they could not help laughing at the expression on the pilot’s face as he caught sight of them, apparently for the first time, when they were directly opposite.
“Bet he goes in with a tale of a ghost plane,” Bill chuckled.
“Wouldn’t wonder,” Rogers laughed.
“He certainly looked as though he was seeing things,” Gordon added.
“I suppose twenty years from now planes will be so thick that we’ll have to have traffic laws same as we do now for automobiles,” Rogers declared as he watched the plane disappearing in the distance.
“But we’ll always have plenty of different levels,” Bill said, “and that will help.”
“It sure will,” Gordon agreed.
“I think I can see the ocean.”
It was a little past six o’clock when Rogers made the statement. Gordon had been driving since shortly after noon and Bill was more than half asleep in his seat. The weather had cleared shortly after twelve o’clock and they had all enjoyed immensely the flight over the lofty peaks of the Rockies. The motor had run perfectly and nothing had happened all day to mar the pleasure of the trip and they were all in high spirits.
“Going to land in the big city?” Gordon asked a few minutes later when they were sure that they were nearly to the coast.
“I think Stockton will be better,” Bill told him. “It’s only a short distance from the coast and it isn’t so large.”
“Then we ought to be sighting it most any minute now.”
“I believe that must be it a bit over to our right,” Rogers declared.
“My idea,” Bill agreed.
Gordon turned the wheel slightly and in a few minutes they had landed. A number of people had seen the plane as it was settling to the ground and they were almost immediately surrounded by a curious crowd.
“What kind of an outfit is that?” one man, a big burly fellow demanded as he rested one hand on one of the wings.
“It’s an aeroplane,” Bill told him.
“But it didn’t make no noise like a plane,” the man objected.
“No,” Bill said quietly. “You see, it’s run by an electric motor instead of a gas engine.”
“Can yer beat that,” the man declared turning from the plane to the crowd. “Where you fellers from?”
“Maine,” Bill told him.
“That’s a good bit of a distance from here, I reckon. When did you start?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“No kiddin’?”
“Honest injun,” Bill smiled.
In spite of the man’s roughness he saw that he, as well as the rest of the crowd, was well disposed toward them and he thoroughly enjoyed his surprise. Inquiry at once gave them the information that there was a good hotel only a couple of blocks distant and willing hands helped them push the plane down the street and into the garage in the rear of the hostelry.
“And so ends the second day,” Gordon declared as they made their way toward the dining-room.
