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As we leave the clear air a left movement of the rudder, without corresponding bank, swings the machine to the north, so that its nose points away from the desired course. The pilot puts on a fraction of right rudder to counteract the deviation. We veer eastward, but rather too much, if the swaying needle of the compass is to be believed.
If he lands safe, and the English troops ain't roused, he'll take the town and hold the island easy enough." "But the pilot, is he certain safe?" asked another voice. Ranulph recognised it as that of the baker Carcaud, who owned the shop. "Olivier Delagarde isn't so sure of him." Olivier Delagarde! The lad started. That was his father's name.
"But, after all, the best pilot is the Goddess Chance, who guided us." "Chance, monsieur! Chance!" exclaimed McAllister, with a vehemence in which he seldom indulged. "I do not believe that there is such a thing as chance, much less a goddess. I am not going to discuss the subject, only don't talk to me of chance."
His dress was not unlike that worn by Basil; but as he was seated on the bow, and acting as pilot, and therefore more likely to feel the cold, he wore over his hunting-shirt, a Canadian capote of white woollen cloth, with its hood hanging down upon his shoulders. But there was still another "voyageur," an old acquaintance, whom you, boy reader, will no doubt remember.
After an exciting misadventure they often gave expression to their relief at finding an amateur pilot still whole, by praising his "presence of mind" in too generous French fashion.
My father's death had removed the one great obstacle in the way of Carver's carrying on the smuggling unsuspected. It had also enabled him to become a pilot a position which gave unusual opportunity to a man so unscrupulous.
There were hills with lofty summits, marvellous castles, turreted and towered, and majestic cathedrals, their icy pinnacles and spires reaching high above the top-masts of the ship and their polished adamantine surfaces sparkling in the brilliant sunshine and scintillating fire and colour with the wondrous iridescent beauty of mammoth opals. "There's Domino Run," said the pilot. "Domino Run?
Our attention, however, was just then attracted by seeing a vessel standing in for the harbour; she approached within a mile or so, when the wind fell. She had a signal flying for a pilot, and the men who brought us in went out to her.
The ray-screen stopped it, while again Morey turned the magnetic beam on this time against the fort. The ray remained on! Arcot retreated hastily. "They found the secret, all right. No use, Morey, come on up," called the pilot. "They evidently put magnetic shielding around the apparatus. That means the magnetic beam is no good to us any more.
Master," he added presently, "bid your man light the fire in the galley." "What for," asked Foy, "to cook breakfast?" The pilot shrugged his shoulders and muttered, "Yes, if we live to eat it." But Foy saw that he was glancing at the slow-match by his side, and understood. Ten minutes passed, and they had swept round the last bend and were in the stretch of open water which ran down to the sea.
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