The broken aileron wire dangled tantalizingly from the wing. Tim gauged his distance and thrust an outstretched hand to grasp it. The wire was just beyond his reach!
CHAPTER TEN
The good will planes were swarming in from the west. In another minute there would be a dozen of them circling over the airport and with his own ship able to manoeuvre with only the greatest difficulty, Tim knew that the arrival of the other planes would add more complications to their plight.
The Good News was wavering unsteadily. At any moment it might slide into a spin in spite of all that Ralph could do to keep it on an even keel. Then it would be curtains! But not if Tim could help it. He was determined to reach the dangling wire if it was humanly possible.
The flying reporter started his body swinging. Ralph screamed at him for the Good News was careening from side to side. But Tim kept on, his body swinging out from the side of the plane like a great pendulum, its swings ever lengthening.
Tim clutched at the broken wire; missed by inches. The next time he’d make it. He had to, he told himself, for every second was precious. They couldn’t smash up in the crowd below. He swung again, his fingers outstretched in an effort that wrenched every muscle in his body. He touched the dangling wire, but it slipped through his hand. Then a movement of the plane placed it within his reach again and he gripped the wire between his finger-tips. He heard Ralph’s triumphant shout as he tightened his grasp on the wire and felt the plane nose downward, but the world was dancing before his eyes. The strain was intense as he hung on like grim death, his left hand holding and controlling the aileron wire, his other hand and foot anchored to the fuselage.
Down they circled, Tim mechanically manipulating the aileron. Truly he was “riding down” from the clouds. He’d read about it being in the war but had hardly believed it possible. Now he was actually accomplishing the feat and getting away with it—maybe. They weren’t down yet. Could Ralph turn the trick and make a safe landing? It would require real skill and a keen judgment of distance and speed.
Tim glanced back at his chum and Ralph nodded reassuringly. He knew as well as Tim that if he landed too hard Tim would be bounced off the plane and even an Irishman, and a reporter at that, doesn’t like to be thrown from a plane landing at a speed of seventy miles an hour.
Ralph straightened out and headed for the field. Tim steadied himself and uttered a prayer as they dropped closer to the ground. They were over the edge of the field and nosing down fast. Tim glanced at the crowd—a sea of upturned faces. He gave the aileron a final jerk and shut his eyes.
Bang! Crash! Bump! And they were down. The shock of the rough landing threw Tim against the fuselage and he clung there like a plaster. Ralph managed to taxi the Good News across the field and brought it up in front of the announcer’s stand and they tumbled down. Above them the sky was alive with planes. They had turned the trick just in time.