The liner was now almost directly underneath the soaring Sea Eagle. Her rails were black with passengers craning their necks upward at the great, man-made bird. From her funnels poured clouds of inky smoke, while her sharp prow cut the water on each side of her bow into sparkling foam. On the bridge were uniformed officers, pointing binoculars and spy glasses aloft, for the operator had communicated the news of what the Sea Eagle was about to do.
Suddenly the watching throngs of ocean travelers saw the Sea Eagle poise in air like a hawk about to pounce. Then down she came, cleaving the air like a falling stone.
A great cry went up from the packed decks. It seemed as if the air craft must perish, that nothing could check her fall, and that she was doomed to plunge headlong into the sea. But in a flash the cry changed to a mighty cheer.
Less than forty feet from the water the Sea Eagle was seen to shoot upward and straight toward the steamer. Like an arrow from a bow the great aërial craft shot whizzing above the liner’s bridge, and under the wireless aërials extending from mast to mast. Just as she roared by above the officers’ heads, like some antedeluvian thunder-lizard, something was seen to fall downward and land on the top of the charthouse. It was the bundle of papers thrown by Harry. A sailor scrambled up and got them, while the crowded decks yelled themselves hoarse.
Then the Sea Eagle soared up high above the mast tips, and Harry seated himself at the wireless once more. Presently to his ears came a message from the speeding liner far below.
“Captain Seabury wishes to congratulate you on the most wonderful feat of the century.”
CHAPTER XVII.—AN AËRIAL AMBULANCE.
Harry was about to flash back an answer to the message of congratulation when, suddenly, into the scene of triumph was injected a grim note of threatened tragedy. One of the passengers, a young woman who had been leaning far out over the rail of the boat deck waving a handkerchief of filmy lace and linen, was seen, all at once, to topple from her perch.
The next instant, and while her shrill scream for help still rent the air, a young man who had been standing beside her jumped out into space without waiting to do more than strip off coat and shoes. The Ultonia was speeding ahead at the fastest gait her twin screws were capable of. She was a large vessel, probably some 15,000 tons of registration, and her momentum was too great to stop her for a considerable distance.
From the Sea Eagle horrified eyes saw the accident, and witnessed the young woman’s head bob up for an instant amid the frothy wake of the big craft. The liner’s whistle screamed out a shrill alarm, and men could be seen scampering to lower a boat, while life buoys were thrown overboard.