  “Forget the mask,” Sparky was saying. “We’ve got loads of gas. Dawn will soon be here. We’ll stay five thousand feet. Go back and get a little rest.” Reluctantly she obeyed. Having wrapped herself in the eiderdown robe, she fell fast asleep. But not for long. She awoke with a start from a disturbing dream to find an eerie light shining down upon her. “The ship’s on fire!” she thought tumbling out of her robe. She sprang to a window to whisper, “We have met the dawn.” It was true. The sun, a red disk, rolled along the horizon. The sea and the sky were all ablaze with light. “Sparky!” she exclaimed. “It’s wonderful!” “Is it?” he asked sleepily. “Just another sunrise. That’s all it seems to be. But look, Mary, you’ve been a peach. I suppose I should apologize for being gruff with you back there when we were way up high.” “Who’s been drunk?” He shot her a quick look. “You think I’m crazy? I’m not a drinking man, but if I were, I’d be plain mad if I drank before a trip like this.” “Oh! So you weren’t drunk?” She threw back her head for a good laugh. “You were all the same.” “What!” Sparky seemed ready to leave the controls to crown her. “Yes, you were drunk and so was I. I was happy and you were sad. That’s how people get when they are drunk.” “Say, are you crazy?” “No, Sparky, I’m not.” She laughed again. “We were having an oxygen drunk. It might have been dangerous. I realized the danger just in time. Too much oxygen, too long, that’s all.” “Too much oxygen, too long,” he repeated after her. “I’ve heard of that happening but just think of an oldtimer like me getting caught with it!” “The bigger they are the harder they fall.” She favored him with a good laugh. “But it’s not really strange,” she added soberly. “Our trip, this far, has been a hard one. You’ve worked long hours. You were too tired to think. I was fresh. That made all the difference. And just for that, how would you like to crawl back for a few winks?” “I’ll call you,” she agreed. Sparky’s sleep was long and peaceful. Never had Mary enjoyed herself half so much as on that morning guiding the big ship through the blue sky over a sea as dark and mysterious as death. An hour passed, two, three hours. Sometimes she wondered in a vague sort of way about their secret cargo. Would it go through safely and would she be with the ship to its journey’s end? Just then none of these things appeared to matter much. It was good to live. That, for the moment, was enough. There was a spring-like warmth in the air, and a faint fragrance as of flowers. They were going against a mild off-shore breeze. Once she spotted dark dots on the ocean far below. There were twenty-four, a convoy. It must, she told herself, be an American convoy. She wanted terribly to drop down low and dip a wing in salute but, this, she knew, would never do. Some enemy sub might see that dip and know that the convoy lay beneath her. They would close in and then— No—it would never do, so she drove straight on toward the rising sun. “It’s land! Land! Africa! I’ll soon be abroad. The long hop is nearing its end.” She wanted to shout for joy, to scream, but this she knew was not expected of the co-pilot of a big ship so all she said was: “Sparky! Sparky! Wake up! We’re nearing land, and I don’t know the way to that secret airfield.” “What—what?” Sparky groaned sleepily. “It can’t be land. I just stretched out here a minute ago.” “Yes, I know.” Mary laughed for sheer joy. “It’s land all the same. I think I see a camel. Come and see.” Sparky came forward rubbing his eyes. Adjusting his glasses he took a good look. “Can’t make out your camel,” he drawled, “but that white spot off to the right is Dakar, all right. Good girl! You hit it right on the nose. Give me the controls and I’ll have you eating fried camel steak and dates before the hour is up.” They did just that. Coming down on an airfield fringed with palms, they were given a cordial greeting by a dozen good American soldiers. To a man, they stared at Mary, then grinning, saluted. Soldiers Greeted Them at the Secret Airfield “If they all come like this one, make ’em all ladies from now on,” his buddy chipped in. “It’s nice to see you all.” Mary put on her best smile. “I only wish I could be with you for a week.” “Make it two! Make it for the duration!” came in a chorus. “Two hours,” was Sparky’s pronouncement. “Give our ship the once-over, will you, while we motor in for some chow?” “Oh, sure, we’ll fix her up fine,” a big sergeant grinned. “But you’ll have to do your own searching for stowaways.” “And be sure you look well!” the lieutenant in charge added. “I’m short-handed. Can’t spare a man.” An army jeep appeared and they were whisked away to a small city of low, white buildings, gleaming streets, and many camels. “My!” Mary exclaimed. “It’s hot!” “Sure!” said Sparky. “This is Africa.” “The scene shifts so fast I can’t keep up,” Mary said, fanning herself. “It won’t be bad in here,” said Sparky, motioning her to enter a long, low eating place. “It’s more than half American, patronized mostly by our people. They run a sort of concession and get real food supplies from America.” “Just think of taking off in two hours!” Mary exclaimed. “I’d like to make it two weeks.” “Sure,” Sparky grinned. “Great place for a gal. Hundred American soldiers to pick from.” “Sparky! Forget it!” She was half inclined to be angry. “What I mean is, I’d like really to see these places we visit, not go to it hop-skip-jump. It—it seems such a waste.” “That’s right,” Sparky agreed. “After the war we’ll do it all over—take a whole year for it.” “Will we?” she asked. “Who knows?” He spoke slowly. “We may be dead. This is war.” Sparky hurried through the meal, then excused himself. “Gotta see about our papers,” he explained. “Be back in 'bout half an hour. Get yourself another cup of java and wait here in the shade.” Hardly had Sparky disappeared when a tall, distinguished-looking young woman entered. She was dressed in a striking manner, all in black, yet it was not the black of mourning for she wore much bright costume jewelry. “Do you mind?” The woman indicated the chair Sparky had left. “One sees so few women here.” Mary did not mind. The woman, who spoke with a French accent, took a seat, then ordered cakes and sour wine. “You are from America?” the woman suggested. Mary nodded. “A lady soldier?” Mary shook her head. “But your uniform?” “In America many women wear uniforms. We like them.” Mary smiled. “I happen to be a member of the Ferry Command.” “And you flew a big plane all the way! How wonderful! Shall there be many more of you?” “No—I—” Mary broke off. She had been about to say, “I may be the only one. Mine is a special mission.” “What a fool I am,” she thought. “I came for the ride really,” she said, covering up deftly. “My father is over here somewhere.” “Ah! You brave Americans!” the woman exclaimed. “They saved my country, France, in the last war and now—” “Now you expect us to do it again,” Mary wanted to say. “And over here you are divided. You don’t really know what you want.” “Are you Mary Mason?” “Yes.” Mary stood up. “I’ve been asked to speak to you—that, that is I have a message for you.” The girl seemed embarrassed. “Perhaps—” “No! No!” The French woman was on her feet. “I have urgent business. I was about to go. It is good to have seen you—” She bowed to Mary and was gone. “Will you forgive me.” The girl in khaki dropped into a seat. “I just had to do it. I never saw that woman before. She may be all right. You never know. Over here half the people are for us, the other half against. You dare trust no one. You didn’t—” She hesitated. “I didn’t tell her a thing worth knowing.” Mary smiled. “Will you have a cup of coffee?” “Oh, sure!” The other girl’s face beamed. “Real American girls are so rare here.” “You are a WAC?” Mary suggested. “Yes, of course. There are very few of us here now, but there will be more and more.” Her voice dropped. “That’s the sort of things they want to know,” she confided in a whisper. “All set!” he exclaimed. “Our outfit is still far ahead of us. Got to get going.” After Mary had introduced Lucy Merriman, the WAC, they were on their way. “I’ll be seeing you,” Mary called back. Then she added in an undertone, “I wonder.” As she climbed into the car, she caught a glimpse of the tall French woman. She was talking to a small man with a round face. “That’s a queer-looking pair,” said Sparky. “Lady of quality and a beggar Arab.” “He looks like a Jap,” Mary gave the fellow a sharp look. She would know him if she saw him again. “Besides,” she added, “he can’t be quite a beggar. He’s got a camel.” “You meet all types here,” Sparky replied absently. “It’s the strangest country you ever may hope to see. We’ve sure got to watch our step. By rights we should fly square across the desert. But with our cargo,” his voice dropped, “it’s too risky.” “So we’ll go northeast?” Mary suggested. “That’s right.” “That takes us into fighting country?” “Yes—sort of—” The car started, returning them to the airfield. |
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