“Yes,” added Pudge, also deeply interested; “do we go on with the seaplanes and keep tabs of what they do up around Ostend and Zeebrugge, or else switch off and go over the land the same as you and Billy did yesterday?”
“I’ve fixed all that with M. Le Grande here,” Frank told them. “He expressed the wish that we might see fit to keep with the main body along the shore, because it is expected the most spectacular feats will be attempted there.”
“Gee! I was hoping you’d say that, Frank!” Billy exploded.
“Suits me to a dot, too!” Pudge followed by saying.
“I hope they are going to start right away,” added Billy.
“There’s a message being sent up by heliograph,” explained Frank. “Of course, we can’t read the flashes, but it’s meant for the man in the leading plane. I expect it will tell him everything is all right for the start.”
He proved a true prophet, for immediately afterward some signal was given that caused the entire assemblage of aëroplanes to cease their evolutions and head in a long double string up the coast.
The boys, despite the clattering of propellers and the humming of many striving motors, could catch the distant wild cheers that the assembled people of Dunkirk sent after them. It was a benison of good wishes, and a hope that the object of the great raid might be fully accomplished.
Frank kept somewhat above most of the aircraft. He had several objects in doing this, chief of which was the design to show that he was in a class by himself, and not to be included in those who had come forth to fight. Besides, it allowed them to observe all that was going on below; as well as being in a position to show the pilots of the fleet a few little things connected with the strange looking Sea Eagle that would cause them to feel more or less astonishment, and envy as well.
“Will you show them something, Frank, now that we have the chance?” asked Pudge.