CHAPTER XIII
Wings of the Storm
Captain Harkins’ announcement that the Goliath would make its first long test flight the next morning meant hours of work ahead for Andy but the assistant pilot of the airship threw himself into the task with his usual unfailing energy. He had able assistants in Serge and Bert.
The visit to Washington was to be a complete surprise and every effort was made to keep the news from getting out from Bellevue. If all went well the first intimation the capital would have of the visit of the new sky king would be when the rising sun silvered the nose of the Goliath with its rays.
Andy received detailed reports from each of the engine rooms on the performance during the trip over the field and found them highly satisfactory. Fuel consumption had been less than he had anticipated. Supplies for the flight the next day must be ordered and placed aboard for breakfast and lunch would be served to the army officers and to the members of the crew. Serge volunteered to attend to that task while Bert kept his radio busy getting the latest weather reports. He asked the Washington bureau for a special report at two o’clock the next morning and Washington came back with:
“What’s up? Are you chaps going to make a trial flight at that hour of the night?”
Bert refused to give the curious operators at Washington any information but secured the promise that he could have a special meteorological report at the desired hour.
Preparations for the flight were completed by early evening and members of the crew were ordered to bed by nine o’clock. They would be aroused shortly after two if the weather report at that hour was favorable for their plans.
At eight that night the three young friends gathered in Bert’s radio shack to talk with Harry, now well out to sea in the Neptune. They picked up Harry’s signal on time to the minute and learned that the Neptune had been having a bad time of it.
“I’ve been sick most of the day,” said Harry miserably. “The sea got mighty choppy this morning and we’ve been tossed all over the inside of this tin fish. The air’s bad, too, and it’s been so rough we couldn’t have eaten much if we had felt like it.”
“That’s too bad,” replied Bert, “but it’s just what you get for gallivanting around the world in a cast-iron cigar.”