Dick Hamilton's Airship; Or, A Young Millionaire in the Clouds
Dick Hamilton's Airship; Or, A Young Millionaire in the Clouds by Howard Roger Garis
Dick Hamilton's Airship; Or, A Young Millionaire in the Clouds by Howard Roger Garis
"She sure is a fine boat, Dick."
"And she can go some, too!"
"Glad you like her, fellows," replied Dick Hamilton, to the remarks of his chums, Paul Drew and Innis Beeby, as he turned the wheel of a new motor-boat and sent the craft about in a graceful sweep toward a small dock which connected with a little excursion resort on the Kentfield river.
"Like her! Who could help it?" asked Paul, looking about admiringly at the fittings of the craft. "Why, you could go on a regular cruise in her!"
"You might if you kept near your base of supplies," remarked Dick.
"Base of supplies!" laughed Innis. "Can't you forget, for a while, that you're at a military school, old man, and not give us the sort of stuff we get in class all the while?"
"Well, what I meant," explained the young millionaire owner of the motor-boat, "was that you couldn't carry enough food aboard, and have room to move about, if you went on a very long trip."
"That's right, you couldn't," agreed Paul. "And of late I seem to have acquired the eating habit in its worst form."
"I never knew the time when you didn't have it," responded Dick. "I'm going to give you a chance to indulge in it right now, and I'm going to profit by your example."
"What's doing?" asked Innis, as he straightened the collar of his military blouse, for the three were in the fatigue uniforms of the Kentfield Military Academy, where Dick and his chums attended. Lessons and practice were over for the day, and the young millionaire had invited his friends out for a little trip in his new motor-boat.
"I thought we'd just stop at Bruce's place, and get a sandwich and a cup of coffee," suggested Dick. "Then we can go on down the river and we won't have to be back until time for guard-mount. We'll be better able to stand it, if we get a bite to eat."
"Right you are, old chap!" exclaimed Paul, and then he, too, began to smooth the wrinkles out of his blouse and to ease his rather tight trousers at the knees.
"Say, what's the matter with you dudes, anyhow?" asked Dick, who, after glancing ahead to see that he was on the right course to the dock, looked back to give some attention to the motor.
"Matter! I don't see anything the matter," remarked Innis in casual tones, while he flicked some dust from his shoes with a spare pocket handkerchief.
"Why, you two are fussing as though you were a couple of girls at your first dance," declared Dick, as he adjusted the valves of the oil cups to supply a little more lubricant to the new motor, which had not yet warmed up to its work. "Innis acts as though he were sorry he hadn't come out in his dress uniform, and as for you, Paul, I'm beginning to think you are afraid you hadn't shaved. What's it all about, anyhow? Old man Bruce won't care whether you have on one tan shoe and one black one; or whether your hair is parted, or not."
Then Dick, having gotten the motor running to his satisfaction, looked toward the dock which he was rapidly nearing in his boat. The next moment he gave a whistle of surprise.
"Ah, ha! No wonder!" he cried. "The girls? So that's why you fellows were fixing up, and getting yourselves to look pretty. And you let me monkey with the motor, and get all grease and dirt while you- Say, I guess we'll call off this eating stunt," and he swung over the steering wheel.
"Oh, I say?" protested Innis.
"Don't be mean?" added Paul. "We haven't seen the girls in some time, and there's three of 'em-"
Dick laughed. On the dock, under the shade of an awning, he had caught sight of three pretty girls from town-girls he and his chums knew quite well. They were Mabel Hanford, in whom Dick was more than ordinarily interested, Grace Knox, and Irene Martin.
"I thought I'd get a rise out of you fellows," the young millionaire went on. "Trying to get me in bad, were you!"
The boat swerved away from the dock. The girls, who had arisen, evidently to come down to the float, and welcome the approaching cadets, seemed disappointed. One of them had waved her handkerchief in response to a salute from Paul.
"Here, take some of this and clean your face," suggested Paul, handing Dick some cotton waste from a seat locker.
"And here's a bit for your shoes," added Innis, performing a like service. "You'll look as good as we do."
"What about my hands?" asked Dick. "Think I want to go up and sit alongside of a girl with paws like these?" and he held out one that was black and oily.
"Haven't you any soap aboard?" asked Innis, for he, like Paul, seemed anxious that Dick should land them at the dock where the girls were.
"Oh, well, if you fellows are as anxious as all that I s'pose I'll have to humor you," agreed Dick, with a grin. "I dare say Bruce can let me wash up in his place," and he turned the craft back on the course he had previously been holding. A little later the motor-boat was made fast to the float, and the three cadets were greeting the three girls.
"Look out for my hands!" warned Dick, as Miss Hanford's light summer dress brushed near him. "I'm all oil and grease. I'll go scrub up, if you'll excuse me."
"Certainly," said Mabel Hanford, with a rippling laugh.
When Dick returned, he ordered a little lunch served out on the end of the dock, where they could sit and enjoy the cool breezes, and look at the river on which were many pleasure craft.
"Where were you boys going?" asked Grace Knox, as she toyed with her ice-cream spoon.
"Coming to see you," answered Paul promptly.
"As if we'd believe that!" mocked Irene. "Why, you were going right past here, and only turned in when you saw us!"
"Dick didn't want to come at all," said Innis.
"He didn't! Why not?" demanded Mabel.
"Bashful, I guess," murmured Paul.
"No, it was because I didn't want to inflict the company of these two bores on you ladies!" exclaimed Dick, thus "getting back."
There was much gay talk and laughter, and, as the afternoon was still young, Dick proposed taking the girls out for a little jaunt in his new craft He had only recently purchased it, and, after using it at Kentfield, he intended taking it with him to a large lake, where he and his father expected to spend the Summer.
"Oh, that was just fine!" cried Mabel, when the ride was over, and the party was back at the pier. "Thank you, so much, Dick!"
"Humph! You have US to thank-not him!" declared Paul. "He wouldn't have turned in here if we hadn't made him. And just because his hands had a little oil on!"
"Say, don't believe him!" protested the young millionaire. "I had proposed coming here before I knew you girls were on the dock."
"Well, we thank all THREE of you!" cried Irene, with a bow that included the trio of cadets.
"Salute!" exclaimed Paul, and the young soldiers drew themselves up stiffly, and, in the most approved manner taught at Kentfield, brought their hands to their heads.
"'Bout face! Forward-march!" cried Grace, imitating an officer's orders, and the boys, with laughs stood "at ease."
"See you at the Junior prom!"
"Yes, don't forget."
"And save me a couple of hesitation waltzes!"
"Can you come for a ride tomorrow?"
"Surely!"
This last was the answer of the girls to Dick's invitation, and the exclamations before that were the good-byes between the girls and boys, reference being made to a coming dance of the Junior class.
Then Dick and his chums entered the motor-boat and started back for the military academy.
"You've got to go some to get back in time to let us tog up for guard-mount," remarked Paul, looking at his watch.
"That's right," added Innis. "I don't want to get a call-down. I'm about up to my limit now.
"We'll do it all right," announced Dick. "I haven't speeded the motor yet. I've been warming it up. I'll show you what she can do!"
He opened wider the gasoline throttle of the engine, and advanced the timer. Instantly the boat shot ahead, as the motor ran at twice the number of revolutions.
"That's something like!" cried Paul admiringly.
"She sure has got speed," murmured Innis.
On they sped, talking of the girls, of their plans for the summer, and the coming examinations.
"Hark! What's that?" suddenly asked Paul, holding up his hand for silence.
They were made aware of a curious, humming, throbbing sound.
"Some speed boat," ventured Dick.
"None in sight," objected Paul, with a glance up and down the river, which at this point ran in a straight stretch for two miles or more. "You could see a boat if you could hear it as plainly as that."
"It's getting louder," announced Innis.
Indeed the sound was now more plainly to be heard.
Paul gave a quick glance upward.
"Look, fellows!" he exclaimed. "An airship!"
The sound was right over their heads now, and as all three looked up they saw, soaring over them, a large biplane, containing three figures. It was low enough for the forms to be distinguished clearly.
"Some airship!" cried Dick, admiringly.
"And making time, too," remarked Innis.
Aircraft were no novelties to the cadets. In fact part of the instruction at Kentfield included wireless, and the theoretical use of aeroplanes in war. The cadets had gone in a body to several aviation meets, and once had been taken by Major Franklin Webster, the instructor in military tactics, to an army meet where several new forms of biplanes and monoplanes had been tried out, to see which should be given official recognition.
"I never saw one like that before," remarked Paul, as they watched the evolutions of the craft above them.
"Neither did I," admitted Dick.
"I've seen one something like that," spoke Innis.
"Where?" his chums wanted to know, as Dick slowed down his boat, the better to watch the biplane, which was now circling over the river.
"Why, a cousin of mine, Whitfield Vardon by name, has the airship craze pretty bad," resumed Innis. "He has an idea he can make one that will maintain its equilibrium no matter how the wind blows or what happens. But, poor fellow, he's spent all his money on experiments and he hasn't succeeded. The last I heard, he was about down and out, poor chap. He showed me a model of his machine once, and it looked a lot like this. But this one seems to work, and his didn't-at least when I saw it."
"It's mighty interesting to watch, all right," spoke Paul, "but we'll be in for a wigging if we miss guard-mount. Better speed her along, Dick."
"Yes, I guess so. But we've got time-"
Dick never finished that sentence. Innis interrupted him with a cry of:
"Look, something's wrong on that aircraft!"
"I should say so!" yelled Paul. "They've lost control of her!"
The big biplane was in serious difficulties, for it gave a lurch, turned turtle, and then, suddenly righting, shot downward for the river.
"They're going to get a ducking, all right!" cried Innis.
"Yes, and they may be killed, or drowned," added Paul.
"I'll do what I can to save 'em!" murmured Dick, as he turned on more power, and headed his boat for the place where the aircraft was likely to plunge into the water.
Hardly had he done so when, with a great splash, and a sound as of an explosion, while a cloud of steam arose as the water sprayed on the hot motor, the aircraft shot beneath the waves raised by the rapidly-whirling propellers.
"Stand ready now!"
"Get out a preserver!"
"Toss 'em that life ring!"
"Ready with the boat hook! Slow down your engine, Dick."
The motor-boat was at the scene of the accident, and when one of the occupants of the wrecked airship came up to the surface Dick made a grab for him, catching the boat hook in the neck of his coat.
The next instant Dick gave a cry of surprise.
"Larry Dexter-the reporter!" he fairly shouted. "How in the world-"
"Let me get aboard-I'll talk when-when I get rid of-of-some of this water!" panted Larry Dexter. "Can you save the others?"
"I've got one!" shouted Paul. "Give me a hand, Innis!"
Together the two cadets lifted into the motorboat a limp and bedraggled figure. And, no sooner had he gotten a glimpse of the man's face, than Innis Beeby cried:
"By Jove! If it isn't my cousin, Whitfield Vardon!"
The Curlytops at Uncle Frank's Ranch; Or, Little Folks on Ponyback by Howard Roger Garis
Larry Dexter's Great Search; Or, The Hunt for the Missing Millionaire by Howard Roger Garis
Daddy Takes Us to the Garden / The Daddy Series for Little Folks by Howard Roger Garis
After the divorce, she became the dream woman everyone longed for. James Ferguson saved Zelda Liamson and always did whatever she asked, making sure she had everything she could ever want. Zelda thought it was true love. After five years of marriage, she realized she was nothing more than his favourite pet, while he was her whole world. Then, the woman James truly loved came back, and Zelda demanded a divorce. James mocked her, saying, " You can't survive without me. What will you do without the Ferguson's name? " But Zelda did run away and never looked back, receiving marriage proposals every day. James lost his mind and returned, begging Zelda, "Please, come back to me. Give me another chance." His eyes were full of love and desperation.
Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.
Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."
I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.
The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.
Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world. In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief." But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius. Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be.
© 2018-now ManoBook
TOP
GOOGLE PLAY