Flyers of Fortune by Frederick Lewis Nebel Read online




  Air Stories, August, 1927

  Gales and McGill, free lances of the air, stamp merrily on a Chinese dragon’s tail—and backfire to the Siam Coast!

  F you’d been on the coast that year, automatic pistols and resulting in a number of anywhere between Shanghai and the casualties for the other side.

  I Malay States, you’d have heard lurid, Thereafter they were suspected of unsavory tales anent two soldiers of fortune—

  various outrages ranging from theft to

  Gales and McGill, one-time lieutenants in the kidnaping and on up to rank, raw murder. On

  American air service. It began when these two the Yangtse two attempts were made to blow

  bird-men, flying a battered hydroairplane, up the plane, and one night in a black back-aided in manipulating the escape of a native

  alley of Chinkiang McGill, carrying more

  prince from a vile dungeon in the liquor under his belt than was good for any neighborhood of Canton. They did it for a

  man—especially in Chinkiang—got a flung

  price, of course, and it was most unfortunate knife in the ribs and almost passed out of the that during the rescue certain well-laid plans picture.

  went to pot, calling for the immediate use of Then on a hot, sultry day, brassy with

  Air Stories

  2

  the glare of the equatorial sun, the populace of

  “Ten to one they’ll pitch us in jail and

  Bangkok, that maudlin, wicked, colorful city, stick the old boat in a museum. Bill, this

  looked up to see a silver-winged monster country is getting too damned hot for us and I droning down out of the blue. A yellow-robed

  don’t mean the climate either.”

  monk in a dug-out canoe, bent on collecting

  “Cheer up, Mike!” Gales chuckled. “I

  alms from the river craft, looked once and

  know you miss your liquor, but cheer up.

  then headed for shore, where he took up a

  We’ll anchor here and I’ll get a native to row watchful position under a sacred Bo-tree. me ashore.”

  Sampans, house-boats and canoes scattered

  As a matter of fact, it was some little

  from the face of the Menam River and drove

  time before Gales managed to convince

  to hug the protection of the wharves and the

  Bangkok’s port dignitaries that he had no

  wooded banks.

  intentions of robbing the crown jewels,

  The plane circled the city, its wings

  murdering the King of Siam, or plundering

  flashing in the sunlight, its motor roaring even Wat Phra Keo, the Temple of the Emerald

  above the din and clamor of the most turbulent Buddha.

  of Eastern cities. Then it was over the river But he did land, a long, rangy, bronzed

  again, and suddenly it slanted. The motor young man, with twinkling blue eyes, a slow, died. Like a graceful bird, the plane engaging smile, and a devil-may-care tilt to descended. Its pontoons kissed the water, his lean, hard jaw. Word that he had landed skimmed along free for an instant, then traveled rapidly, from mouth to mouth, from touched again and threw aside ribbons of shop to shop, all the way from the European milky foam. It missed hitting a sampan by no

  section downtown, through the reeking

  more than a foot, passed perilously between

  brothels and opium joints of the Sampaeng, on two anchored schooners, and glided to a stop

  northward to the boulevards of the nobility.

  in the lee of a dumpy river packet.

  The houseboat-cluttered canals buzzed with

  Bill Gales pulled off his goggles and

  wonderment at the arrival of the winged

  turned to grin his youthful dare-devil grin at monster, and many white men along New

  his older partner.

  Road shook their heads dourly and suspected

  “Well, Mike, pretty nifty, that landing,

  the worst. For the flyers of fortune—Gales

  eh?”

  and McGill—had a past crimsoned by the

  “Couldn’t have done better myself, broad brush of gossip and ill-founded rumor.

  Bill. Got a butt?”

  Gales, roving the city aimlessly,

  “Sure.” Gales passed back a packet of

  wandered presently into a gaming house in the cigarettes and chuckled. “That guy in the raw maw of the Sampaeng. He was not there sampan we almost hit has made the shore and

  five minutes when a fat, heavy-lidded Chinese is still running. Well, here we are in Bangkok, approached him and in a very direct manner

  just about out of gas.”

  asked him how much he would charge to drop

  “And not enough dough to get drunk

  a bomb on a certain gaming house at the other on,” supplemented McGill. “What a tough end of the district.

  break!”

  Gales laughed. His eyes twinkled

  “Never mind, Mike. We’ll get some

  merrily. He said:

  somehow. We’ve been recognized by this

  “You’ve been misinformed, my friend.

  time, and if it comes to the worst, these We don’t go in for that sort of stuff. Sorry!”

  officials here will supply us with gas just to He wandered out of the dive, weaved

  get rid of us.”

  his way through the crooked, evil streets, and

  Flyers of Fortune

  3

  before dusk settled he had turned down three

  blowing smoke through his nostrils. “Well

  similar offers. When he returned to the shove off at dawn. He pays in advance and we waterfront he found McGill pacing up and

  load our tanks this evening.”

  down a rickety wharf in sight of the plane.

  At precisely five o’clock the slim,

  “No luck, Mike,” he greeted. “It seems

  well-dressed stranger arrived at the wharf. He all these birds go in for nothing short of was in his forties, perhaps; a sallow, bony murder.”

  man, with large, pale eyes and a bad set of

  McGill, who was short and spare and

  nerves.

  nervously alert, with keen little eyes, stopped

  “So you are Mr. Gales?” he smiled

  his pacing and jammed his hands to his hips.

  wanly at the younger of the two partners.

  “Bill,” he said, “you should have hung

  “Yes, I’m Gales. We’ll be very glad to

  around, dammit. About an hour after you left a fly you.”

  stranger came down to the wharf here and

  “Call me—well, Smith. What does it

  motioned me to come ashore. Maybe we’ve

  matter?”

  got a job,”

  “Good as any,” chuckled Gales lightly.

  Gales snapped a match to a cigarette

  “All right, Mr. Smith. Tomorrow at

  and clipped:

  daybreak. Of course, the payment in advance,

  “Shoot,

  my

  boy!”

  you know.”

  “Sure. A white man, Bill, tall and

  “To be sure,” agreed Smith, and turned

  skinny and not so healthy-looking, what I away to cough brokenly. “If you’ll come to mean. But he must have dough all right. my hotel I shall be glad to settle the matter.”

  Looks and speaks that way.”

  He sighed. “And we must get away as soon as

  “Mike, get to the point!�
��

  possible. It is very, very urgent, I assure you.

  “Gimme time. Here’s the idea. We’re

  Someone . . . Well, to my hotel then,” he

  to take him in our bus and head for the Gulf of ended.

  Siam and look for a ship called the Bangkok Belle, which is bound for Saigon. All right.

  GALES and McGill worked most of the night

  We’re to land on the water near the ship and

  on their plane. They loaded the gasoline tanks make signs that we want her to pick up our

  to capacity, put in fresh motor oil, and time passenger. We can say he’s sick or and again drew a wondering crowd when they something.”

  roared and tested their engine. When they both

  “What

  else?”

  agreed that the motor was in perfect shape,

  “That’s all, so far as details are McGill perched on the edge of the forward concerned. He won’t tell any more. Well, cockpit and rubbed his grimy face with a what the hell? Who cares? There’s a thousand

  grimy hand.

  dollars in it. With that money we can stock up

  “Bill,” he said. “I think I’ll just drop

  on provisions and fuel later on and run arms

  ashore for a little while and tuck a few drinks from Singapore to the insurgent tribes in the away.”

  Celebes.”

  “Go to it, partner, but don’t get lost,”

  “Where is this angel?” asked Gales,

  was the hearty rejoinder.

  interested.

  So McGill set out to tuck away a few

  “Be here at five o’clock. Told him to. I

  drinks. How many drinks he did tuck away

  said everything would be O. K. with me, but

  remains matter for conjecture, but he returned I’d have to speak to you, too.”

  to the wharf well after midnight singing a

  “O. K. by me,” chuckled Gales, bawdy song and steering a wobbly course. He

  Air Stories

  4

  refused the offer of a sampan, fell overboard altitude. Soon the city of domes and spires and and decided to swim out to the plane. Gales

  dank canals was below and behind. Ahead of

  hauled him out of the river, piled him into the him stretched the jungle and the Menam River

  rear cockpit and left him to sleep it off. At winding toward the Gulf of Siam. The wind

  daybreak McGill was perfectly sober and hummed by his ears, twanged and rattled in primed for action.

  the struts. Smith had said that they should

  “I feel like a new man,” he explained,

  sight the Bangkok Belle in the vicinity of chafing his hands gingerly. “I needed that.

  Cambodia Point. That would be four hundred-

  Honest, Bill, you can get some good liquor in odd miles from Bangkok, and about five hours

  this here burg.”

  of flying.

  “Ready for anything, eh, Mike?”

  When Gales’ altimeter registered

  grinned Gales.

  three-thousand feet he rattled the controls and

  “Ready for anything, Bill!”

  saw McGill lean forward to take over the

  Both partners were in fine spirits when

  flying. Then he removed his hands from the

  the man called Smith joined them. Gales was

  joy-stick and his feet from the rudder bar and enthusiastic, eager to be off, and his boyish, doubled in the cockpit to light a cigarette.

  reckless grin was contagious. McGill was

  McGill took the boat up another

  alert, crawling around the plane, giving a final thousand feet and for the sake of variety

  and thorough inspection. Then Smith was volplaned, banked sharply and then zoomed helped into one of Gales’ spare flying outfits up to six thousand feet, when he shoved the

  and stowed in the front cockpit which he was

  control stick forward almost to the instrument to share with McGill.

  board and leveled the plane’s flight. He

  It is pretty safe to say that no one in

  looked around at Gales and grinned. Gales

  Bangkok expected them to leave so suddenly.

  blew smoke through his nostrils and grinned

  Hence there was not much of a crowd to

  back. Smith was white-faced and silent.

  witness their departure. The roar of the engine Neither of the birdmen had pressed

  did draw a few, however, and more came

  Smith for other details than he had freely

  running down to the wharves.

  given. In fact, they had not even speculated

  Hooded and goggled, Gales sat in the

  between themselves as to the object of the

  after cockpit at the controls, a duplicate set of stranger’s mission. They were well used to

  which was likewise in the front cockpit. He

  mysteries. They were being paid to fly Smith

  smiled to himself as his eyes roamed over the over the Gulf of Siam, locate the Bangkok instrument board and the engine thundered.

  Belle, and get him on board. Right there their He saw McGill turn and arch inquisitive services were to end.

  eyebrows, then pull on his goggles. Gales

  It looked easy. Nothing to it. Smith

  grinned back and nodded.

  certainly wanted to get aboard the ship pretty He was happy, eager, tingling all over.

  badly, to pay their price. Well, that was his The thrill of the game never deserted him. He business, and it was their’s to fly him there.

  was a natural flyer, and fear in the air was

  After that—Singapore, and a fling at gun-

  something he did not know. As his plane

  smuggling.

  began to slide over the surface of the water, McGill shook the controls and Gales

  gathering speed, he turned his head to watch

  took over the flying, dropping to three

  the city of Bangkok sweep by. He waved

  thousand feet and passing over a freighter that joyously to the watchers on the shore.

  was plowing sluggishly through the waters of

  Then he was in the air, driving for

  the broad Gulf. Directly ahead of him was the

  Flyers of Fortune

  5

  newly risen sun. He dropped lower, way down

  the flying, feeling not so almighty comfortable to five hundred feet, on down to three hundred with a dead man beside him.

  and still lower, until he was fairly skimming Gales looked at the photograph again,

  along the wave crests.

  wondering what Smith’s motive had been in

  McGill turned and shook his head and

  thrusting the picture into McGill’s hand. This pointed his finger upward. Gales grinned his

  was something they had not bargained for. Yet reckless grin, banked and zoomed. He drove

  Gales was well used to meeting the

  up toward the clouds—up—up—and still up

  unexpected. You get that way after you’ve

  to ten and then twelve thousand feet and flown for ten years. He leaned forward and beyond. Then he volplaned to five thousand

  tapped his partner on the head. McGill twisted feet and drove on at an even keel, chuckling to around and throttled down to listen.

  himself.

  “Keep heading for Cambodia Point,” Gales

  It was a few minutes later that he snouted. “See if we can pick up the Bangkok noticed Smith rising in the forward cockpit.

  Belle. I’ve got an idea.”

  He saw McGill yank him back into the seat,

  McGill, who had become used to

  and then he saw Smith writhing in what relying on Gales’ ideas, nodded and climbed appeared to be nothing less than agony. another thousand feet. They we
re heading McGill had twisted and after throwing a southeast down the coast of Cambodia. Point puzzled glance at Gales, put an arm about

  Samit was on their left and Koh Rong lay

  Smith and shouted something near his ear.

  ahead. Below them creamed the waters of the

  Then suddenly Smith was quiet.

  Gulf, and a barkentine was beating down the

  A moment later McGill, his face wind.

  twisted in a grimace, turned and tried to say Clouds were gathering in the east and

  something to Gales. Gales throttled down and

  trooping across the face of the sun and huge

  leaned forward, cocking an ear.

  rollers were breaking on the jungle shore far

  “Gripes, Bill,” McGill was yelling, below. Off Phu Quog Island Gales, who was

  “he’s dead!”

  at the controls, sighting a steamer, bore down Gales was abruptly serious. He was

  and shot close by with his binoculars pressed losing altitude and soared up to eight thousand to his eyes. He could see an officer on the

  feet before he throttled down and again leaned bridge wave. It was not the Bangkok Belle, forward.

  however, and Gales zoomed and soon was

  “Yeah!” shouted McGill. “Guess his

  tearing along at eight thousand feet.

  heart was bum, Bill. Just before he passed out McGill turned and swung a suggestive

  . . . shoved this in my hand.”

  arm toward the dull clouds that were rolling

  Gales reached out and received a small

  out of the east. Gales nodded. The sun was

  square of cardboard about the size of a poker obscured and the waters below were being

  card. One look revealed that it was the piled high. The plane was driving into strong photograph of a young woman—a dark-head winds, high over Rach Gia Bay. Twice

  haired, dark-eyed, beautiful young woman.

 

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