As a matter of fact the work of assembling the monoplane and adjusting the motor was performed in less than an hour and a half, during which time the Olive Branch was running southward at an easy ten knots, keeping a course parallel to the Syrian coast.
"All ready now, sir."
"Then nip below and have some refreshment. By the bye, is this distance too great for your flight to land?"
"Not at all, sir."
"Will you require any of the stanchions to be cleared away?"
"No, I claim I can rise in the air at a less distance and more obliquely than any other aviator. I guess I'll not scratch the paintwork."
So saying, the airman, accompanied by Lieutenant Palmer, went below, where he remained for over half an hour. When he reappeared he was fully attired for his flight, though, protesting that the heat made the device uncomfortable, he would not inflate his indiarubber suit.
Practically all the officers and crew had assembled to watch his departure, the men crowding as far aft as they dared. Shaking hands with the officers, Sidney P. Flew climbed into his seat above the two air-pontoons. One or two preliminary touches, and like a gigantic hawk he was off, amid the hearty cheers of the crew.
While all eyes were fixed upon the rapidly soaring and receding figure there was a sudden commotion, and Lieutenant Palmer, white-faced and staggering like a drunken man, tottered up the companion.
"Stop him!" he gasped. "He's stolen the wireless reciprocators," and without another word he collapsed upon the quarter-deck.