“Ignore that ape,” said Captain Bill, “and proceed.”
“Lindbergh didn’t listen to them. He just went ahead and did what he thought was right, and by golly, he was right. It makes a fellow feel that even if he is young he can do things. He doesn’t just have to sit around and do what everybody else has done before. There’s got to be a first every time. Lindy wasn’t afraid just because nobody had ever flown the Atlantic alone before, and the wiseacres said that it couldn’t be done. He just went ahead and flew it.”
“It wasn’t as easy as all that,” quietly remarked Hal.
Bob turned to him. “Of course not. Lindy had planned every move that he was going to make. He was prepared for anything. That’s why he’s always so successful. He has his plans all laid before he ever takes off. He’s got all the courage in the world, but he’s not reckless.”
“Put that under your hat, my lad. It’s a good lesson to know by heart when you’re going into the flying game.”
“You bet,” said Bob. “Gee, it needed a lot of courage for him to make that take-off. I’ve got the date down here. It was May 20, 1927, on a Friday. That must have been an exciting morning down at Roosevelt Field. He made up his mind on Thursday afternoon. They told him that the weather was all right over the North Atlantic, and that it would be best if he started out the next morning.
“He didn’t tell anybody about his plans. He never talks very much anyway. Everybody found that out later. It was all sort of secret. He just told his mechanics to get the Spirit of St. Louis ready, and keep their mouths shut. I guess he didn’t want everybody messing around with his plans. But the men who delivered his gasoline weren’t so secret, I guess, and somehow his plans leaked out Thursday night.
“That Thursday night was pretty awful. It was raining, and the weather could be cut with a knife. But once people found out that Slim was going to start, they began to come around to Curtiss Field, and at two o’clock in the morning there was a big crowd of them standing around in the rain and mud. Slim wasn’t leaving from Curtiss, though, and they towed his plane by truck over to Roosevelt. They got there just about when it was getting light.
“There was a crowd over at Curtiss, too. But Slim didn’t care. Crowds never mean much to him. He saw a whole lot more of them later on, too, but he never was one to strut or show off. He just got into his fur-lined suit, and waited for the men to start his engine. Somebody asked him if he had only five sandwiches and two canteens of water. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘If I get to Paris, I won’t need any more, and if I don’t get there, I won’t need any more, either.’ It was just like him to say that, but the real reason he didn’t take any more was because he had too much weight already. He had over 200 gallons of gas, and the load was heavy. He had to cut down on everything that wasn’t absolutely necessary.
“Well, they started his motor for him. The plane was standing on the Roosevelt runway, which is pretty smooth, and five thousand feet long. The weather had cleared up a little. And there was the monoplane looking all silver and slick, roaring away for all it was worth. Lindy said goodbye to his mother, and to Byrd and Chamberlin and Acosta, who were planning their own trips across the Atlantic, and then he stepped into the cockpit, and closed the door.