Famous Flyers and Their Famous FlightsWright, Jack
History
Famous Flyers and Their Famous Flights
Wright, Jack
Adventure stories; Aeronautics -- Juvenile fiction; Air pilots -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction
Their thoughts kept returning to the cold mountain streams filled to the
brim with scrappy fish, and the waterfall that Hank said he used as an
outdoor shower. A whole month of it! The boys could hardly sit still on
the leather cushions.
“Want something to eat?” said Bill.
“Of course,” they said, almost together.
Bill reached for the lunch hamper. Then something seemed to go wrong.
The plane lurched. But they hadn’t struck an air pocket. It’s nose fell,
and the three were almost thrown into a heap, one atop the other. The
plane was going into a spin! Beyond the glass partition, Pat lay slumped
over his wheel.
Something had to be done at once. And it was Hal who did it. He pushed
open the glass partition, and got somehow to the pilot’s seat. With all
his strength, and his excitement gave him a strength that he had never
before possessed, he pulled Pat out of his seat, and pushed him through
the door, where the Captain and Bob were waiting to take him. Hal
slipped behind the wheel, and neutralized all controls.
Thank God, they had been flying at a high altitude. The spin wasn’t a
tight one, but a loose one. Hal pushed her nose down. That was what Pat
had told him, wasn’t it? Don’t try to pull her nose up. Push it down,
and she’d come out of it and go into a glide. At first nothing happened.
Hal was trembling, not so much with fear as with exaltation. He felt the
great ship respond. They were coming out of it! They were gliding
swiftly down to earth. He had her perfectly under control. Slowly he
pulled her up, then, and they were flying quietly and steadily with the
horizon again.
The Captain was at the door behind him. “You’re great, Hal, you’re
great. You had more guts than any of us. I knew you had it in you, and
you’ve showed us, Hal.”
Hal was happier than he had ever been in his life. He felt that he was
master of the world now. He’d saved his pals, and now he would never
have to be afraid of anything again. “How’s Pat?” he asked.
“We’re turning around. He hasn’t come to,” said the Captain. “I’m afraid
he was hurt more badly than he thought.”
Hal banked and turned. It was good to feel the ship respond to him,
dipping one huge wing slowly, and turning about gracefully in a great
circle. If not for Pat, his happiness would have been complete.
They got Pat to the hospital, where it was found that the nasty crack on
the skull had given him a slight concussion. But you couldn’t keep Pat
down. It merely meant postponing that trip, not cancelling it.
Hal was the hero of the day. The newspapers, who got the story at the
airport, hounded him until he conquered his shyness, just to get rid of
them. They made the most of the story, and Hal was almost afraid to
leave the house, for fear some of his friends would meet him in the
street, because Hal was still the same modest retiring soul that he had
been.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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