anxiety, for no such calamity befell them.
A shrill whistle was heard, evidently a signal to those in the second boat to inform them that the object of their search had been discovered. Then came the cheery whirr of the motors, accompanied by the churn of the busy propellers, and like a giant, double-winged dragonfly, the seaplane started along the surface of the water, followed by another burst of angry shouts.
“Duck! they may be going to shoot!” exclaimed Frank, suiting his actions to his own words.
That was just what did happen, for a volley of shots sounded, and had the motors not been making so much noise the boys might have heard the whistle of the passing leaden messengers.
There was no harm done, for, unable to longer see the speeding seaplane, those who used their weapons with such reckless abandon had to fire at random. Skimming the water like an aquatic bird, with a gradual but rapid increase to their speed, the seaplane soon began to rise.
Billy realized from that that Frank meant to make an ascension, possibly deeming it wise to get away from such a dangerous neighborhood as quickly as possible. And, as they anticipated, the reliable Sea Eagle was doing her prettiest when called upon to show her fine points.
Once free from the sea, they rose until Frank felt sure of his position. He had switched on the electric searchlight, and the storage battery was of sufficient power to send the ray of white light far ahead. It could be turned to any quarter of the compass.
“Well, here we are off on our trial trip sooner than we expected,” said Billy, meaning to draw the other out, for he was consumed by curiosity to know what was coming next.
“Two narrow squeaks on one night ought to be enough, don’t you think, Billy?” asked the pilot, as he started out into that avenue of light, and then glanced at the handy compass so as to fix their course on his mind.
“Well, we’ve been pretty lucky so far,” admitted the other. “It wouldn’t pay to keep up that sort of racket. They say, you know, that the pitcher may go to the well just once too often. It might be three times and out for us.”
“And neither of us feels like accommodating those anxious German secret agents whose one business in Dunkirk is to steal our thunder, do we, Billy?”
“Not much,” replied the other boy with decided emphasis. “I’d sooner see the airship smashed to pieces than know it had fallen into the hands of the Kaiser’s men.”
“Hold on, Billy! You know we’re supposed to be neutral in this fighting business. We’ve got some mighty good friends who are of German blood, and we think a whole lot of them, too.”
“Oh! I’m not saying a word against Germans; they’re as fine a people as any in all the world; but, Frank, what we’ve met with in Northern France and in the little of Belgium we saw that day Major Nixon took us out in his motor car, somehow set me against the invaders. Anyway, we’ve been treated splendidly by the French here, and our business has been with them.”
“That’s understood, Billy, and I agree with you in all you say. But let’s talk now about our chances of dropping down again to the water.”
“Oh! then you don’t mean to stay up here, Frank? Will it be safe to descend, do you think?” asked Billy, a new sense of anxiety gripping him.
“So far as the plane is concerned we can do almost anything with it,” Frank assured him. “Our light will tell us whether the sea is too rough for alighting. We’re heading downward as it is right now. Steady, Billy, and keep on the watch.”
Having taken his course, Frank knew that they must be out on the channel some miles from the harbor. On nine nights out of ten he would have hesitated about attempting such a risky proceeding as he now had in view; but the calmness that prevailed encouraged him to take the chances of a descent in the darkness.
“I can see the water all right, Frank!” exclaimed Billy a minute later, as the wonderful air and water craft continued to head downward, though with but a gradual descent.
“It looks good to me,” ventured the pilot, with confidence in his tone.
Presently they were so close to the surface of the water that both of the boys could see that it was fairly quiet. The long rollers were steadily moving toward the southeast, as though the night air influenced them, but then Frank had before now dropped down on the sea when it was much more boisterous.
“Here goes!” he remarked, as he deflected the rudder just a trifle more, and immediately they struck the water.
The Sea Eagle, being especially constructed for this sort of work, and having a spoon bow that would not allow her to dip deeply, started along on the surface, with the motors working at almost their lightest speed. Then Frank cut off all power.
“We did it handsomely, Frank!” exulted Billy Barnes, feeling quite relieved now that the seaplane had proven fit and right for the business it had been built to demonstrate.
“And here we are floating again,” said Frank, “but this time so far away from the harbor of Dunkirk that there’s no longer any danger from spies. Billy, since that star has dipped behind the horizon, suppose you take your little twenty winks of sleep.”
“You think it’s perfectly safe to lie here the rest of the night, do you, Frank?”
“Why not, when we can get away if the wind should come up, and the sea prove too rough for us? Make your mind easy on that score, Billy.”
“But how about steamers crossing from the other side of the channel?” asked Billy. “I think I heard that they generally take the night to make the trip these times, so as to keep the German aviators from learning how many transports loaded with troops come over. Besides, they avoid danger from submarines, and bombs dropped from Zeppelins that way.”
“Oh! the chances of our being run down are so small that we needn’t bother about them,” Frank assured the nervous chum. “I promise you that if I see a moving light, or hear the propeller of a steamer, I’ll wake you up, and we can stand by, ready to go aloft in case the worst threatens.”
That seemed to appease Billy, for he gave a satisfied grunt and proceeded to settle himself for a nap.
“This is being ‘rocked in the cradle of the deep,’ all right,” he remarked, as the floating seaplane rose and fell on the swell. Frank made no reply, so that presently Billy relapsed into silence, his regular breathing telling the other he was sound asleep.
So the long night crept on. The boys managed to catch more or less sleep, for nothing arose to alarm them. Naturally, their position was far from a comfortable one, and therefore Frank, who happened to be on duty at the time, felt pleased more than words could tell when he eventually glimpsed a light in the eastern sky that proclaimed the coming of dawn.
CHAPTER VI.
UNDER SHRAPNEL FIRE
“Have we anything to eat along with us, Frank?”
“Why, hello! are you awake, Billy? I was just thinking of calling you, or sending a bell hop up to pound on your door. It’s morning, you see.”
“Yes, I noticed that light over there in the east, and was thinking how the poor fellows in the trenches must feel when they see it creeping on, knowing as they do that it means another day of hard work and fighting. But how about my question, Frank? Did we think to fetch that pouch of ship-biscuit along with us?”
“Yes, it’s tied just back of you,” the other informed him with a laugh. “But I’m surprised to hear you so keen for a bite, Billy. If it had been Pudge, now, I wouldn’t have thought so much about it, because he’s always ready for six meals a day.”
“I don’t know what ails me,” acknowledged the other, as he reached for the little waterproof bag in which Frank always tried to keep a pound or so of hardtack, with some cheese as well, to provide for any emergency like the present, “it may be this sea air, or perhaps it’s due to the excitement we’ve gone through; but I’m as hungry as a wolf in winter.”
“Perhaps I may take your appetite