Air Wonder Stories, July 1929 — page 19: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 17 the workshops in quick time, and I have seen him rise under three big men, during a rag, and carry them off like so many feather pillows. Like most good men of their hands, he can control his fists. Itake it he knows too well the power in them and behind them to use them unworthily. Milliken is the sort of mechanic who always has about him a lump of cotton waste, and as we in- spected the Merlin that day—I suppose for about the thousandth time—he was rubbing the frosted aluminum of the fuselage and of the shuttered wings, or was polishing up the glass of the port- holes, It was as if he could not get his darling clean enough, for he fussed about the machine like a mother over a spoiled child. IT am not going to say that the Merlin did not deserve all his affection. From the gleaming 1,000 h.p. radial engine, weighing just about half as many kilograms, to her rudder, and from wing-tip to wing-tip, she was all frosted aluminum, save only for a thin line of gentian blue that ran along her sides to spread out and cover her rear plane. Through the portholes and windows of the control cabin, a glimpse could be had of the sparrow’s-egg blue that decorated her interior, of the shining nickel of the dials and controls. She looked the littlest thing. Yet at a pinch she could carry a dozen and a half fighting men. She seemed the most innocent and peaceable of machines, but her speed arid her power of rapid manoeuvre made her just about the deadliest thing that ever took the air. We could take off the whole top of the cabin above the blue line and fit a fighting top, and round the inside of the fusilage were set stanchions for six guns. Two of these guns, the fore and aft, were belt-guns firing half-kilo shells, the forward one synchronized with and firing between the propeller blades, Beneath were hatches for bomb-dropping and torpedo release. Of course, at the moment I’m writing of, when Milliken and I were standing by her on the jetty, all the fighting kit of the Merlin was unshipped. I had every permit from the government, but as the law forbade any private machine to carry arma- ment and I did not want any inspectors dodging around until she was quite ready, her fighting capacity still remained secret. I was putting off the time when I would have to say she was. per- fect and would have to offer the design to the U. S. government, so she remained a peaceable machine, ostensibly built for pleasure, and her fighting kit lay oiled and ready in the strong-room of the work- shops. The Bird Flies S {1 watched Milliken dance round his pet, T began to have an absurd feeling of guilt about taking her away. The mechanic was sure to be ag- grieved, and I wondered how I was going to break the news to him. He stepped back and gazed at the machine with a rapt expression. “Don’t you think,” he said slowly, “that the band round her could be widened, Mr, Boon? I don’t mean much, Ju-u-st a morsel. Ju-u-st about a six- teenth of an inch either side, to show up her lines prettier?” “T had a notion of widening the band consider- ably,” said I solemnly, to string him a bit, “about four inches altogether. Then I thought of bringing the blue right round the engine boss, and stencilling a wreath of emerald-green leaves round her nose, bringing the design right round with the band. Then perhaps a row of vermilion dots either side of the blue strip would brighten her up——” He was gazing at me with his jaw dropped. “Fuh!” he said contemptuously. “Why don’t you finish her off like a circus wagon and be done with it? Want to make her look like a swing-boat at a fair——?” He broke off and grinned. “You got me that time,’ he admitted. “Looks like it,” said I. “You and your ‘ju-u-st a morsel!’ Come up to the office, Milliken. I want to talk to you.’ When I had finished telling him of the robbery and of my plans, he put a hand on each knee and scowled at me fiercely. “Do you mean to tell me you're giving up your work here to go crook-hunting?” he demanded. “You've said it,’ I replied. “I’ve got to stand by the old man in the best way I can, Milliken. He’s up against a big thing.” He thought for a minute. “Well,” he said slowly. “I don’t know that I blame you. Your father’s worth all you can do. But ee the Merlin into a private limousine— huh!” = have to give him the best I’ve got, don’t you see?’ “Why don’t you recondition the J. V. B. 7?” he asked. ‘“‘She’s quite a good bus yet, up to about three hundred kilometres per, and more of a pass- enger machine than the Merlin—plenty quick enough for your dad’s purpose, I’d say. It'd be a shame to use the Merlin. You don’t want everybody down at Battery Park swarming over the old girl, do you?” “Wouldn’t do them much good if they did,” said I, “but you're right. I’d rather they didn’t all the same. I tell you what, Milliken. Tl take you with ‘me to the Battery and you can fly the Merlin back. Then [ll phone you in the late afternoon and tell you when to come and pick my father and me up in the evening. Meantime, you can be putting the engine back into the Seven, and getting her into order. And, let me see—who is there among the men who could handle her for my father if you and I were otherwise occupied?” “Young Didcot could. He has his ticket, and knows the Seven. He’s a good pilot—only, a bit careful.” “Didcot, of course,” I agreed, for he was a pupil of my own. “I like the careful streak in him, especi- ally as it doesn’t come from concern for his own skin. Well, that’s the idea. We'll have a bite of lunch, Milliken, and then we'll get back to the Battery as quick as we can.” Soon after noon Milliken and myself boarded the Merlin and set off for New York. The silencer was on, and before we had been in the air a couple of mintites she was nipping along quietly at three hundred and eighty. “Let her out, Mr. Boon!” Milliken, the tempter, whispered in my ear. “Open the cut-out and let her rip!” comnliclooolks.com