To the surprise of the other boys, Mac’s frightened demur lasted only a few seconds. Then, as if steeling himself to mount the gallows, the barefooted, bewildered boy exclaimed:
“I call you—you’re on. I’m game.”
As a matter of fact, Tom was perhaps more apprehensive than Mac. But, one thing reassured him. The start would be over shoal water, in which, if they got a ducking, they would not dash out their brains. The spot where the aeroplane landed was comparatively soft. After a little search around the point, the beach was found to be harder, more like a cement floor, and considerably wider. To this point, the three boys trundled the airship like pushing a Gargantuan baby cab.
As Mac climbed aboard, he handed eight dollars to Bob.
“It’s all I have,” he said, without smiling—although, to tell the truth, neither was he nervous—“give it to my father if we don’t get back.”
“Not on your life,” exclaimed Tom. “That’s a Jonah sign—bad luck. Put that money back in your pocket.”
Bob was a little concerned over Tom’s initiation. But the moment, he saw the southern boy prime the cylinder cocks and grasp the levers, he knew that Tom had let nothing go unobserved. Again the engine started, the propeller began to hum and Tom sat with the wheels braked, waiting for sufficient momentum. Then the car wobbled, and Bob saw it was time to free the starting wheels.
“Let ’em go,” he yelled. And, as Tom released the brake, Bob, grasping the rear vertical rudder, gave the Anclote a “boost” that sent her skimming along the beach. With the first bound into the air, Mac twisted his body about. He was actually grinning.
“Purty soft,” he shouted, “if I don’t git sky sick.”
St. Joseph Bay, seven miles wide, stretched between the Keys and the mainland. On its far side, rising from the white strip of narrow beach, a green band of scrub pines and palmettoes was broken in one place by a gap through which the Anclote River entered the sound.
Up this winding watercourse, small boats[203] made their way to Tarpon Springs, three miles inland. Over this stretch of water and land, Tom and Mac were now shooting at top speed on their most important errand, the securing of a box of matches.
Bob rushed back to the camp, mounted to the backbone of the Key for one last look at the diminishing aeroplane and a glimpse at the deep blue gulf beyond, and then made ready to prepare the long delayed meal. There was a temptation to extend his inspection of the little island, for he had already noticed a most unusual feature of the sand covered Key. At the far northern end of the narrow strip, stood two large trees—oaks he afterwards found—unique both in size and location. He wondered why Captain Joe had not made camp there, but that was soon explained—there was no landing.
With the determination to make Oak Tree Point the object of his first excursion, the boy clambered down to Joe’s inlet, and the camp, and fell to work. Perhaps it wasn’t a joy to overhaul and begin the arrangement of their stores. Tom had already located a place for a camp fire, and collected a pile of palmetto roots.
In a quarter of an hour, Bob had emptied most of the boxes and improvised a pantry. On[204] two of the cases, moved out under a palmetto tree, he laid a cloth and distributed plates, cups, knives, forks and spoons. Then followed bread, preserved butter, marmalade, condensed cream, a can of baked beans and another of tomato soup ready for heating, a few potatoes for frying and the skillets and pots for the cooking.
As Mac’s fish were to be the feature of the “spread,” Bob now began looking for a suitable knife with which to clean them. He knew he had one in his fish box. As he prepared to unlock the latter, his face flushed. Then he broke into a laugh. Snapping open the lid, he reached into the lower compartment and withdrew, not only his fish knife, but two boxes of wind-proof matches.
“Never mind,” he chuckled, “it’s all for the best. Ain’t no use havin’ an airship standin’ ’round eatin’ its head off an’ doin’ nothin’. Besides, Mac had to begin sometime.”
Starting a fire of dead roots, Bob, still shaking with amusement, put on a pot of water to heat the beans and soup, and filling the coffee pot from the fresh water keg, he took Mac’s bucket of fish down to the shore of the inlet to dress them. He was about half done when,[205] straightening up to ease his aching back, he found Mac and Tom silently watching him.
“If that’s a joke,” exclaimed Mac, pointing to the roaring fire, “do it again. I’m satisfied. We was in town twelve minutes, and it was forty-two minutes from the time we left till we got back. An’ I’ll bet you she kin—”
Bob held up his hands in protest, while he broke in with an explanation of how and where he had found his matches, at the end of which he told Mac they would talk “aeroplane” later. Tom exhibited three boxes of matches rather contemptuously, and then, Mac being a more experienced cook, Bob and Tom turned over the culinary affairs to him, while they visited the aeroplane to prepare it for the night.
The rubber-silk plane coverings were so attached that they could be rolled up and buttoned like a buggy curtain, thus decreasing the wind surface and liability of damage from the elements. Both top and bottom silk coverings (except in the engine section below) were kept taut and in place on their rear by wire edgings drawn over each slightly projecting rib end.
When these wires were removed, the silk surfaces were easily rolled up and reefed along the forward edge of the car to which they were permanently attached. This done, the delicate starting wheel frame was quickly unbolted and removed, the bare framework set flat on the ground and anchored with four shoulder pins. Then, covering the engine with a waterproof jacket, the aeroplane was safe enough from ordinary storm or wind.
When Tom and Bob rejoined the perspiring Mac, they encountered a smell from the fish skillet that set Bob to rubbing his stomach.
“Wait till I get a mess of pompano,” remarked Mac squatted over the fire. “Red fish are good—mighty good—but pompano—!” Words failed him. About half past four, the meal was ready. At five o’clock, it was at an end, and three rotund youngsters were lying on the warm sand, content with themselves and the world.
“I could lie here forever,” mumbled happy Bob.
“Which means about five minutes,” drawled Tom.
“That reminds me,” exclaimed Bob, springing up, “I’m goin’ to explore the island.”
“I reckoned as much,” continued Tom. “I nevah knew you all to keep still moah than............