No, she righted herself, more by instinct on Frank’s part than anything. The blinded, choked, helmsman jerked up her rising planes. But the next minute she repeated the blundering stagger downward and Frank realized, even in his dazed state, that she would never rise again if she wasn’t lightened.
The wireless! That would have to go.
With a cracked voice that sounded like a ghost of his usual hearty tones, Frank shouted back the command. But there was no response. Temporarily he checked the aeroplane’s downward tendency but he knew that the next time she would drop into the flames in spite of him and shrivel up with her passengers like a handful of flax.
Blinded by smoke, with cracked lips and swollen tongue Frank realized that something must have happened to the others. With one hand on the steering wheel, he reached back and seized the wireless-box by its base. It weighed 165 pounds and if he could get it free it meant their salvation.
He tugged with all the strength in his arms. The case moved slightly on its base. Frank knew the screws that held it in place did not reach very deep, but with one hand he could not manage to tear it loose.
Then he did a daring thing. Setting the rising planes at their full upward tendency he left the wheel locked by its spring gear and reeled with outstretched hands toward the apparatus. Once he tugged,—twice he tugged.
The box was coming loose but the aeroplane was sagging, he could feel it. It was getting hotter, too.
With bursting brain and blistered hands he heaved at the box till the blood ran from under his nails.
Would it never come?
With an effort that seemed to crack his shoulders, Frank gave a mighty heft. The box ripped loose with a suddenness that sent him staggering back; but the next minute he recovered his balance and heaved it overboard into the roaring vortex beneath them.