In the Wet (20 page)

“We’re ready to go now, sir.” David hesitated. “If you would get on board, I’ll go and tell them something—stall them off.”

“All right. Better not say you’re taking me to Ottawa if you can avoid it.”

He turned and went to the machine, and David went to the telephone. A man’s voice said, “Wing Commander, I understand that you are making a flight tonight. Where is that to?”

David said, “Aw, look—I’m a serving officer, you know. You want our Public Relations Officer, don’t you?”

“I was hoping that you would be able to tell me.”

“I couldn’t do that. I got a rocket last week for speaking out of turn. You’ll have to get on to the P.R.O.”

“Where is he, then?”

“Get on to Australia House, extension 643,” the pilot invented. “Ask to speak to Mr. Mollison. He’s there now, because I’ve just been speaking to him. He’ll tell you the whole story.” He put down the receiver.

The girl was smiling. “What’ll I say when he comes on again?” she asked.

“Say that I’m in the air, and you can’t answer any questions. You can pack up and go home as soon as we’ve gone.”

He left the office, spoke for a few minutes to the foreman of the ground staff, and then went to the machine. The steward closed the doorway behind him, and he went forward towards the cockpit. The Prince stood at the door of his cabin. “Everything all right?”

“I got rid of him, sir. May we take off now?”

“Go when you like, Captain.”

“Very good, sir.”

David went forward and slipped into his seat, settled himself comfortably, and adjusted his belt. Then he nodded to Ryder, and the engineer started the inboard motors; they moved forward to the runway with Ryder speaking on the radio to area control.

Half an hour later they came out through the cloud into the clear moonlight at twenty-three thousand feet. Ahead of them the night was deep blue and serene. David sat motionless as the machine climbed on her course; he roused presently at a touch upon his shoulder, and it was the Prince.

“Mind if I sit here for a bit, Captain?”

“Of course, sir.” Ryder slipped out of his seat. “Would you like to come here?” asked David.

“No—this ’ll be all right.” He slipped into the second pilot’s seat; Ryder withdrew to the navigator’s table and the radio operator began to get a series of bearings and positions for him.

David offered the Prince a cigarette, which was refused. It was quiet in the cockpit of the Ceres; the fine lines and the heavy structure of the windscreen to resist the pressure deadened the rush of air, and the engines were far behind. They sat in the dimmed lights of the instruments watching the blue starry night ahead of them without speaking, and the altimeter needle made circuit after circuit of the dial as they sat. The Prince sat staring ahead into the night, immersed in thought. David sat letting the machine fly herself upon the automatic pilot, relaxed, watching the hands move on the dials in front of him.

Presently he leaned back and spoke to Ryder at the navigator’s table and the second pilot came and stood between the seats with the engineer by him. They levelled off the climb and stood for some minutes adjusting the engine throttles as the speed slowly rose, till finally she was steady in the cruising condition. The Prince watched this going on and asked a question or two; then Ryder and the engineer withdrew, and all was quiet in the cockpit once again.

Presently the Prince said, “Is this your first spell of duty in England, Anderson?”

“That’s right, sir,” he replied. “I’ve never been stationed in England before.”

“You’ve spent all your life in the R.A.A.F., haven’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I entered as a boy apprentice when I was fifteen years old. I got my commission from the ranks when I’d been in six years.”

“And since then you’ve done nothing but fly aeroplanes?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“Lucky devil.”

Presently the Prince spoke again. “If I’d had the chance, I’d have tried to do what you’ve done,” he said quietly. “Go into the R.A.F. and try to make a go of it, and get the rings because you’ve earned them, not because you’re heir to the Throne.” He turned to David. “Some people are born lucky.”

The pilot grinned. “
I
wasn’t born lucky,” he said. “I was born in a ditch, and my mother was a half caste girl. They must have told you that.”

“They told us that. I still say you were born lucky. You could choose your life, and make it what you wanted it to be.”

“Yes, sir.”

They flew on in silence for a quarter of an hour, staring ahead into the blue, starry night. Presently the Prince slipped from the second pilot’s seat, thanked David, and went back to his cabin.

Three hours after take off they were south of Cape Farewell and about an hour out from Belle Isle at the north end of Newfoundland. Radio from Ottawa began to come in loud and clear; David sent Ryder to tell the Prince and to get his signals for transmission. The stewardess brought him a tray of supper in the cockpit and he sat eating in the pilot’s seat, while the Ceres flew on through the dark night to Canada. She came to take the tray as they passed over Belle Isle, and he handed over the control to Ryder and took a little stroll through the machine. Forty minutes later he began a slow let down when they were somewhere over Anticosti; they passed over Quebec in a clear sky at twenty-five thousand feet and saw the city as a mass of tiny strings of lights upon the velvety black ground. So presently they came to Ottawa and talked upon the radio to control, made
one half circuit of the airfield and came in to land upon the lighted runway, six hours and forty minutes after they had left White Waltham.

They taxied Tare to the tarmac and shut off the engines; David left his seat and went aft to the Prince, who turned to thank him for the flight before he left the aircraft. David said, “I’m sorry we’re a little late, sir. We lost time after passing Belle Isle; there’s a cold mass moving down from the north there, that we weren’t told about.”

“That’s all right, Captain. A very pleasant flight.”

David followed him down the steps on to the aerodrome; Frank Cox and Dewar were there, and a car waiting for the Prince and his valet. When that had driven off, Frank Cox turned to David. “Good trip?”

“Quite all right. What happens to us now?”

“Wait here for orders for a day or two. I’ve got you accommodation with the R.C.A.F. here.” They set to work to move the aircraft to the parking place and snug it down for the night under a guard of the Royal Canadian Air Force Regiment. An hour later David was going to bed, with Dewar chatting to him in the doorway as he took his shoes off.

The Australian said, “Come in and shut the door a minute.” The Canadian did so. “What’s this all in aid of—do you know?”

“I don’t know a thing. We heard about the T.U.C. and White Waltham—that was splashed in all the papers here.” He paused. “Our people hit the roof. It happened the day after we got here, and they’d had pages of photographs of the Queen and the aircraft and me and Johnny. Canada’s own aeroplane of the Queen’s Flight, and the Queen coming in it. You know how it is.” The Australian nodded. “And then, the very next day, the row about our aerodrome in England. My God, does England stink!
I kept some of the papers—I’ll show you. I’ve got them in my room.”

“I’ll take them for granted,” David said. “I know how ours go on. One thing I will say for the Pommies; they keep their Press under control—more or less.”

“What is the real position?” asked the Canadian. “Are they kicking us out?”

“I haven’t an idea,” said David. “I haven’t heard a thing, except what’s in the papers.” It was quite all right to try and pump Dewar for a bit of information, but he had no intention of being indiscreet himself.

Wing Commander Dewar nodded. “You may have to watch your step with the reporters,” he said. “They were on to me this morning trying to find out if I knew anything about it. Feeling’s running a bit high just now.”

David nodded. “I’ll tell the boys.” He paused. “I wish to God they’d get a better class of politician back at home,” he said. “This thing need never have happened at all.”

“They’ll have to get some modern notions into their democracy first,” the Canadian said. “They’re still living in the eighteenth century.”

David put his shoes outside the door for the French Canadian batman, and put his coat across the chair. “I’m going to turn in,” he said. “To hell with all their politics. Where’s Macmahon working? Out at Gatineau?”

The Canadian shook his head. “He’s got an office in the Rideau Hall annexe, by the Rockcliffe Park,” he said. “That’s the Governor-General’s residence. You can get him on the telephone through Rideau Hall.”

“Is he living there?”

Dewar shook his head. “He’s living in the Chateau Laurier Hotel—the two girls are there, too. I think he spends most of his time at Gatineau, though.”

“I expect he does, with all this bloody nonsense going on.”

The Canadian went away, and David went to bed, having secured the information that he wanted. He was tired with the responsibility of the flight and he slept heavily, but he set his small alarm clock for the morning and at half past seven he was speaking on the telephone to Rosemary in the hotel.

“Sorry to ring so early,” he said. “I thought I’d better make it early to catch you. How are you liking Canada?”

She said, “It’s grand. I didn’t see much of Edmonton, but Vancouver was lovely. Dewar made up a party for us and we went over to the Island one day and drove up into the mountains and had a picnic by a lake. It was simply heavenly.”

“I’ve never been to the Island,” he said. “I’ve flown over it twice or three times. It looks good.” He paused. “We just got in last night,” he said. “I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me tonight.”

She said, “I’d love to, Nigger. I don’t know whether we’ll be able to. It was a very busy day yesterday—I didn’t get back here till after nine. And it’s going to be another busy one today. Are you going to be here tonight, do you think?”

“I haven’t an idea,” he said. “We’re just waiting for orders. I’ll refuel and inspect the aircraft first thing this morning; after that we shall be standing by.”

“I doubt if you’ll be here,” she said. “I think you may be going back to London.” She paused. “I don’t know anything, really,” she said. “I think they’re all at sixes and sevens.”

“If I’ve got to beat it back to England our date’s off,” he said. “But if it’s not, where shall we dine, and when?”

“Do you mind if we dine here, fairly late?” she asked. “Say about eight o’clock? It it’s a day like yesterday I
shan’t feel up to going anywhere where I should have to dress. Would you mind that?”

“Of course. Look, Rosemary—if it’s a day like that give me a ring here about six o’clock and we’ll scrub it. You’ll want to get to bed.”

“Of course not, David. It’s only that I may be feeling like old Jorrocks—where I dines I sleeps. I’d love to see you and hear all your news.”

“I’ve not got much,” he said. “I’ll be at the hotel about eight, then. Look after yourself.”

“Goodbye,” she said. “See you tonight, unless they send you back.”

He rang off and went into the mess for breakfast. By half past ten the fuelling and the inspection of the machine was finished and he dismissed the crew, with warning that they should not leave the camp till further notice. Frank Cox turned up shortly before lunch in one of the Royal cars, and David reported to him. “We’re in readiness again now,” he said. “Any orders, sir?”

“Keep standing by,” the Group Captain said. “I’m going out to Gatineau again after lunch. They’re having a high level conference there now, I think. One or other of them will probably be going back tonight.”

“If we’re still here, in readiness, tonight, I’ve got a dinner date I’d like to keep at the Chateau Laurier Hotel,” the pilot said. “Be all right if I’m on the telephone there?”

“I suppose so. Ryder had better stay here in the mess if you’re away.”

They lunched together in the mess. Frank Cox drove off again in his car, and David, left with the afternoon upon his hands, went and lay down on his bed. He had the prospect of another flight that evening back to England in front of him; although he had received no orders it was most unlikely that the Prince of Wales would stay away from
England for more than a day in the absence of the Queen. It was morally certain, David felt, that he would receive instructions very shortly to fly the Prince back that night, and in anticipation he would catch up on his sleep. He took his coat and shoes off and set his alarm for six o’clock, and lay down on the bed, and pulled a blanket over him. In ten minutes he was asleep.

He was roused at about five by Dewar coming quickly into the room. He said something, and David roused and sat up. “All right,” he said. “Have you told Ryder? What time do we take off?”

“It’s us,” said Dewar. “I’m taking him in Sugar.”

“Who?”

“Wake up, you silly bastard. I’m taking the Prince back to England in Sugar. We’re pushing off at half past six.”

“Well, what’s happening to me?”

“I don’t know. I wish to God I did. I’ve got Mollie’s father and mother coming up here from Toronto tomorrow.”

“I’ll take this trip for you,” said David. “We can fly tonight.”

“No, that’s all right, old man. I did say something to Frank, but there’s more behind it than that. They’ve got something else lined up for you, I think. I sent a telegram to put off Mollie’s people.”

“You don’t know what they’ve got lined up for me?”

“I don’t.”

He went out of the room, urgent and busy in the preparations for his flight. David got up and dressed with care; in all these swift alarums and excursions there was still a chance that he would be allowed to keep his dinner date with Rosemary, although the prospects were now getting fainter. The autumn evening was chilly and he put his
greatcoat on, and went out to the tarmac where Sugar was running engines in the park.

Most of the crew of Tare were there helping to get Sugar ready for the flight; for some months the Australians had worked side by side with the Canadians in the hangar at White Waltham and though each was concerned chiefly with his own machine their loyalty to the Queen’s Flight was strong. Frank Cox turned up shortly after David got out to the aerodrome, and David raised the matter of the maps with him and with Dewar.