The Courtney Entry

by Max Hennessy

  ‘Nothing wrong with the compass,’ Ira commented. ‘I’ve been flying by nothing else for nearly seven hours now.’

  To the south of them now was the great swampy delta of the river and the coastline of Louisiana.

  ‘If flying the Atlantic’s no worse than this,’ Sammy observed, ‘the only thing we shall die of is boredom.’

  ‘Don’t talk too soon,’ Ira said.

  * * *

  They were passing to the north of Houston in the early afternoon when the engine spluttered unexpectedly. Sammy was holding the controls at the time, and he came up out of his comfortable slouch as though he’d been shot. The engine caught again at once and was roaring comfortably enough once more, but they were all listening now with their heads cocked for the next sign of a break.

  ‘I’ll take over, Sammy,’ Ira said. ‘What’s the trouble?’

  Sammy said nothing for a while, pausing before making any diagnosis. His eyes moved over the instrument panel as Ira adjusted throttle and mixture and checked the ignition. For a while the engine ran smoothly, then it began to splutter once more.

  ‘Fuel pressure’s falling,’ Ira said. ‘What tank are we on?’

  ‘Main.’ Sammy reached back at once and worked the hand pump for a few strokes. The engine picked up immediately and the fuel-pressure needle moved.

  ‘It’s that bloody Hughesden pump!’ Sammy snorted. ‘We’ll have to wire New York from San Antonio. They might have to rush us the new one down.’ He turned in his seat, his eyes angry. ‘Here, Alix, you take over the navigation in case I have to pump.’

  Ira’s gaze roved over the instruments. ‘Switch off the Hughesden and go on to the wing tanks, Sammy,’ he said.

  ‘Right.’

  Sammy shifted the petrol cocks and for a while they had no further trouble.

  ‘How much’s left in the wing tanks?’ Ira asked.

  ‘Not much,’ Sammy said. ‘When it’s used up, we’ve got to get it up there from the main tank.’

  They flew for another hour, then Sammy shifted the petrol cocks again and switched on the fuel pump and they waited to see what would happen. Almost immediately, the engine began to splutter again and Sammy bent, muttering to himself, and checked the drain cock and fuel-feed trap, then he jerked at the hand pump so that the engine picked up once more.

  ‘Pump her steadily for ten minutes,’ Ira suggested. ‘Let’s see how long she’ll go before it starts again. How far are we from San Antonio, Alix?’

  ‘Two hours’ flying time. Can we make it?’

  Ira glanced below them. To the north the ground was beginning to rise a little in blue-green folds, but they were still over flat rolling land. ‘If we can keep the engine going,’ he said.

  ‘There’s nothing to fear from high land between here and San Antonio.’

  ‘OK,’ Ira decided. ‘We’ll try and make it. Keep that pump moving, Sammy.’

  The sun had passed its zenith now and was shining into the cockpit. Ira shifted uncomfortably in the growing heat, and glanced at Alix, but her face was expressionless and calm as she crouched over the maps.

  They were over the middle of a vast flat plain now, with here and there great sheets of rock, as naked as if they’d been laid there at the beginning of time. It was probably the first sign of the rising country across their course, and Ira was watching the ground below all the time now, constantly staring just ahead for a suitable place to put the machine down if they had to. Another great river came up, glinting in the sunshine.

  ‘Brazos,’ Alix said. ‘We’re right on course.’

  The engine spluttered again, and Ira moved the mixture control, trying to find a position where it was more successful.

  ‘Could we have got water in the petrol, Sammy?’ he asked. ‘It was damp enough when we fuelled her.’

  ‘It was all strained, Ira. It’s that bloody Hughesden pump, I tell you.’ Sammy was silent for a while. ‘Maybe we ought to have thought harder about getting that big tank forward.’

  ‘It’s too late for that now,’ Ira commented. ‘We can’t take the machine to pieces and build her again. We’ll change the pump.’

  The engine spluttered again and Sammy bent over the hand pump. Immediately the uneven beat became a steady roar.

  ‘She’s being starved of fuel,’ Sammy pointed out. ‘Every time I work this thing, she picks up.’

  ‘We can make it to San Antonio,’ Ira said. ‘We can strip the pump down there and see what’s wrong. Can you keep it going?’

  ‘I reckon so.’

  They continued to head into the lowering sun, the land blank to its farthest horizon. They had left the swamplands well behind them now and were passing over the plainlands of Texas where the new spring grass was just beginning to change from its dusty winter dryness. Another big river came up, and then a line of low hills to break the monotony. The engine was still spluttering fitfully but it never failed to pick up as Sammy pumped.

  Alix passed round the sandwiches they’d brought and they all had a drink from the coffee Thermos hung in a bag alongside her.

  ‘How about the fuel consumption?’ she asked. ‘Won’t this throw out the calculations?’

  Ira nodded. ‘Keep putting down the readings,’ he suggested. ‘We might be glad of what they’ll show us.’

  ‘OK. You’ll see rising ground any time now. San Antonio’s the other side of it. It’s where the railroad from Dallas and Houston join.’

  He nodded, staring ahead. ‘I can see the line from Houston. It’s right on the nose. Can you keep the pump going, Sammy? I’ll not want the engine cutting as we’re coming in.’

  ‘You concentrate on getting us down,’ Sammy advised. ‘I’ll concentrate on keeping the engine running.’

  Below them, the terrain was changing again and they passed over the steep course of the Colorado and began to see the first spurs of rising ground to their right. Half an hour later, with the ground beginning to take on the characteristic black and white of hard sun and sharp shadows, Ira picked up the glint of metals coming down from the north. Where it converged with the one they were following, he saw a haze hanging over the horizon and knew it was a city.

  ‘I’ve got San Antonio,’ he said.

  They swept over the town, picking out the cathedral and the Mission of the Alamo, and the Army camps on the outskirts. There were hangars and a group of men staring upwards, and near them a Jenny and a De Havilland with Air Corps markings. At the other side of the hangars there was another group of aeroplanes painted in bright colours, and more figures appearing on the apron as they passed overhead. Ira pushed the stick forward and they began to lose height.

  Alix looked up, a pencil in her hand. ‘We’ve averaged around a hundred all the way,’ she said. ‘We must have been doing a lot more at times.’

  Ira nodded, his eyes on the ground. Already he could see groups of people and cars parked near the roadway.

  ‘I’m going in now, Sammy,’ he warned. ‘Keep that pump going.’

  They were a hundred feet off the ground now, then fifty, and as Ira eased the stick back, allowing the machine to settle into a three-point landing, they saw cars starting up and heading out to them across the grass, trailing a scattered group of running figures.

  * * *

  They were surprised to see reporters in the crowd that surrounded the aeroplane. They were round Ira in a moment as he switched off the engine and jumped stiffly to the ground.

  ‘You got Alix Courtney with you, Captain?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We heard from Mr Courtney in New York that you had. She do the piloting?’

  ‘Not this trip. She handled the navigation.’

  ‘She any good at it, Captain?’

  ‘No complaints at all.’

  ‘Why’d you land, Captain? Trouble?’

  Ira sought for words that would hedge the truth around with evasions. ‘We’re on a proving flight,’ he pointed out cautiously. ‘We’re breaking no records.’

&n
bsp; ‘Thought you were going to turn right around and head for New York.’

  ‘We prefer to play safe.’

  ‘Ain’t she as good as they say?’

  The questions came thick and fast and they were shrewd and sometimes tricky, and as Ira tried to choose his answers carefully, Alix interrupted.

  ‘The ship’s fine,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘She behaved perfectly. There’s just one small technical factor that we thought we ought to attend to before making the trip north.’

  ‘How about a picture, Miss Courtney? That’s it, in a group, the three of you.’

  ‘How about a smile, Miss Courtney? And, doggone, how about looking at the captain? As if he meant something to you.’

  As they were pushing through the growing crowd to the airfield buildings, the airport manager appeared.

  ‘Thought I’d be on hand in case you needed anything,’ he said.

  ‘We need,’ Alix admitted. ‘Get these newspapermen off our necks and a state trooper to watch the plane.’

  ‘And a room somewhere with a telephone,’ Ira joined in.

  ‘You got trouble?’

  ‘We need to contact New York.’

  The manager didn’t argue. ‘I’ll fix it,’ he said.

  ‘And a corner of a hangar,’ Ira added. ‘With lights. We have work to do. And what are the weather reports?’

  ‘All clear to the north still. If you can get off right away, you’ll be OK.’

  ‘We can’t get off right away,’ Alix snapped. ‘Hughesdens sold us a bum pump.’

  Sammy stretched and tossed his cigarette away with a tired gesture. ‘Anybody left for Paris yet?’ he asked.

  The manager shook his head. ‘No. Nothing doing. Davis and Wooster have arrived at Hampton, Virginia, for their final tests, but there’s something funny going on there. They say they’re worried about the Pathfinder, so I guess you’re ahead of everybody but the Bellanca.’

  * * *

  They found a lunch-stand just along the road from the airfield and ate ham and eggs. Alix had recovered her spirits now and was cheerful and smiling. While they were eating, the airfield manager arrived.

  ‘We’ve fixed an office for you,’ he announced. ‘We’ve got two trestle beds in there in case you want to rest. There’s a telephone, too, and we’ve arranged for a corner of the hangar and lights. The boys have volunteered to do anything you need to help. How did she go?’

  ‘Fine. Apart from the pump.’

  ‘Can you fix things? The press’s asking.’

  A car was outside, waiting to whip them back to the hangar, where they found the Courtney had been wheeled inside and the doors closed. The newspapermen were still waiting and Alix’s face was all smiles again at once.

  ‘We’ll give you boys a statement as soon as we find out the trouble,’ she said.

  Inside the hangar, lit with the stark glow of bulbs hanging from the girders in the high empty roof, the mechanics had already stripped off the engine cowling and Sammy climbed up the steps to peer into the still-warm engine. After a while, scowling, he climbed down again and picked up a spanner and a screwdriver, and appeared ten minutes later with the pump in his hand. Without saying a word, he crossed to a bench where a solitary light bulb hung, and bent over it.

  ‘Cam’s gone,’ he said after a while. ‘Sheared off.’

  Ira bent over it with him. ‘Can you fix it, Sammy?’ he asked. ‘Or do we need a new pump?’

  Sammy peered for a while at the workings of the pump. ‘Maybe we can fix it,’ he said. ‘Spindle’s a bit longer than most, but maybe we can file one down.’

  The airfield mechanics were standing in a circle round the machine and one of them moved forward at Sammy’s words.

  ‘We’ve got a pump like that in stores,’ he said. ‘Took it off a French plane three months back.’

  ‘Did that one break, too?’ Sammy asked bitterly.

  The mechanic grinned. ‘Yeah. Different dingus, though. How about changing the pieces? Nobody’ll know. The one we got don’t work and if we change you’ll have a pump that works and we’ll still have one that don’t.’

  ‘How long will it take?’ Ira asked.

  Sammy and the mechanic studied the pump for a moment. ‘Around two-three hours,’ they offered. ‘One of us can work on one pump and one on the other.’

  ‘Can we rely on it?’

  ‘As much as you can rely on the one you’ve got.’

  ‘Any wear on the other cams, Sammy?’

  ‘None I can see.’

  Ira was working out mathematical problems in his head. ‘How about planning to get off again at daybreak?’ he suggested. ‘That’ll give us a night’s sleep.’

  ‘I reckon we can.’

  Alix turned away. ‘I’ll wire New York,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t promise anything, Alix,’ Sammy advised. ‘We’re only hoping, so far.’

  * * *

  They got down to work immediately, watched by the mechanics who stood in a ring round them, pushing tools forward or adjusting the light.

  ‘That Wright bloke wasn’t far wrong,’ Sammy commented in a flat contemptuous voice. ‘There are better pumps than this around. We ought to make sure we get one in New York.’ He placed a screw carefully on the bench and, removing the offending cam, held it out for them to see. ‘There she is, Ira. See how she’s sheared off? It gets too much work to do. It’s not big enough.’

  Alix appeared, squeezing through the door of the hangar. Her face looked gloomy. ‘I’ve got a weather report, Ira,’ she said. ‘There’s an unexpected depression building up in the west and beginning to move east. They don’t guarantee anything and we’ll have to get off right on the dot to miss it. If we don’t, we’ll be stuck here for some time.’

  Ira considered the problem. ‘It’s around seventeen hours’ flying time to New York, given reasonable conditions,’ he said. ‘When do they expect it to shut in?’

  ‘We’ve got twenty-four hours. No more.’

  ‘If we can get off at first light we can just get in before it arrives, providing Sammy can fix the pump and it works. Three hours to repair the pump. Four hours’ sleep. How about it, Sammy? Can you manage on four hours’ rest?’

  * * *

  They finished the work on the pump and had it re-installed within two hours and three-quarters.

  ‘Gives us an extra quarter of an hour’s rest, Ira,’ Sammy said.

  They were all beginning to feel better as they handed cigarettes round, and it was Sammy who put into words the idea that had been forming in all their minds.

  ‘Ira,’ he said. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘You’ve been doing all the work.’

  ‘I mean, you reckon you’re rested enough to fly the plane?’

  Ira grinned, guessing what was in his mind, and Sammy went on eagerly:

  ‘How about getting off straight away?’ he suggested. ‘I can sit in the rear seat over the pump and Alix can navigate.’ He glanced at her with a grin, ‘Let her earn her keep. She’s not done much up to now.’

  Alix gestured at the door of the hangar. ‘How about light or the take-off? The sun’s almost gone.’

  The airfield manager joined in quickly. ‘There’ll be no taking off tonight,’ he said. ‘The airfield lights have gone on the bum.’

  ‘They would have,’ Sammy snorted.

  ‘Something in the main cable from the town. They’re fixing ’em now.’

  Alix stared at the sky through the hangar doors. ‘We’ll have barely enough light to see,’ she pointed out.

  Ira frowned. ‘I think we might fix something,’ he said.

  He turned to the manager. ‘What’s it like outside?’ he asked. ‘Many spectators?’

  ‘Plenty. They’ve been coming out from town ever since they heard you’d landed. I guess we don’t see planes like the Courtney down here much. It’s a long way from the Atlantic.’

  ‘Plenty of cars?’

  ‘Plenty.’

  ‘How ab
out getting some lined up along the field?’

  The manager stared. ‘Come again?’

  ‘To give us a line.’

  ‘You going to take off in the dark?’

  ‘Yes. Think you can fix it? We want headlights along the runway to give us our direction and a few across the end to show how far we can run.’

  The manager stared at him. ‘I think you’re nuts,’ he said. ‘But, sure, we can do that, I guess.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I reckon some of these ghouls’ll be only too pleased to have a grandstand view in case you don’t make it.’

  As he turned away, Sammy rubbed his nose with a grimy finger that left an oily smear. ‘If we get off straight away,’ he pointed out, ‘we can be in New York with a few safe hours to spare ahead of the weather.’

  Ira nodded. ‘That’s what I was thinking,’ he said. ‘OK, Alix, let the press know we’re off. And pick up the weather again on the way back.’

  The mechanics, standing in a group near the aircraft, looked up as Ira approached.

  ‘You goin’ to try it, Captain?’ one of them asked.

  ‘We’re off straight away.’

  ‘In the dark?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You seen the weather report?’

  ‘I’m still going.’

  ‘Sooner you than me, Captain.’ The mechanic grinned. ‘OK, we’ll get her outside.’

  There was considerable excitement as the Courtney was wheeled on to the concrete apron. The crowd had come out to see someone risk his life and they were clearly beginning to think the chances were suddenly good. The wind had got up and was blowing dust across the field from the bare mesas and the sky in the west was coppery in colour, the tops of the hills still pink with the last rays of the sun.

  Alix returned. She looked worried. ‘It’s going to be a squeeze,’ she said. ‘That low’s moving faster than they thought. They reckon it’ll be closed in by three in the afternoon.’