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England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Flying Legion"


The last forty-eight hours, the Master instituted night work. The men
paused hardly long enough to eat or sleep, but snatched a bite when
they could, labored till they could do no more, and then dropped in
their places and were dragged out of the way so that others could
take hold. Some fell asleep with tools in hand, stricken down as if by
apoplexy.
The Master had wisely kept the pace moderate, at first, but had
speeded up toward the end. None grew more haggard, toil-worn, or
emaciated than he. With blistered hands, sweat-blinded eyes, parched
mouths and fevered souls these men fought against all the odds of
destiny. Half naked they strove, oppressed by heat, sun, flies,
thirst, exhaustion. Tobacco was their only stay and solace. The
Master, however, only chewed khat leaves; and as for "Captain Alden,"
she toiled with no stimulant.
It was 7:33, on the morning of the sixth day, that Frazier--now chief
engineer--came to the Master, as he was working over some complex bit
of mechanism in his cabin. Frazier saluted and made announcement:
"I think we can make a try for it now, sir." Frazier looked white and
wan, shaking, hollow-eyed, but a smile was on his lips.


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