“It can what?”
“Oh, don’t argue. You need something good for summer and for going away next year. You might as well just grit your teeth and help me choose something you like.”
Morosely, Jessica nodded. There was always something to distract her from flying. Her mother said it was the inevitable routine of daily life, whatever one really wanted to do, but Jessica kept hoping she could ignore all that.
On Saturday morning, Mum took the two girls to Western Stores to see what was available. It was spring, so florals, in silk and rayon, were popular. Jessica thought flowers looked best in a garden and Elspeth just appeared to be thinking of something else.
“These aren’t quite right for my daughters,” Mum said, “Have you anything plainer, perhaps without patterns?” Jessica and Elspeth stood and watched as Mum and the assistant negotiated, examined and eventually came up with a couple of plain silks, fashionable and without a frill in sight.
Jessica supposed these might be the best of a bad choice. Eventually they settled for a soft green for Jessica, that made her look elegant and rather grown up, and pink for Elspeth, smocked in a simple style that transformed her into a demure young girl. Mum was relieved as they left the shop, carrying several bags, with new petticoats and shoes; the girls were just thankful that it had not been much worse.
Mum did not add that their grandmother considered the pair of them to be very badly brought up, without any of the graces young ladies should have and that this was all their mother’s fault. Mum thought they were growing up to be intelligent, independent girls and if their grandmother didn’t like it, that was her loss. But she kept these views to herself.
Chapter Twenty Nine
The next morning, Jessica rose at dawn and prepared for her trip to Nyngan. She had put out her clothes the night before and also two small bags of things for ‘emergencies’. These contained some food — dried fruit and nuts, sardines and biscuits, some fruit and water — and a few essentials, such as Jessica’s best tools, a torch, a fold up knife, a warm jacket, a notebook and something to read. One didn’t have to be a scout to learn how to be prepared.
Dad was up, as he always was at that time, and made sure she had a good breakfast before taking her over to the aerodrome, where Mr Grahame was busy checking — and rechecking — the Gipsy Moth. He glanced at her jodhpurs, shirt and cardigan, and the leather cap she held in her hand and nodded his approval before going back to his checks. He ticked them off as he went so he couldn’t forget anything.
“Thanks, Bill,” said her father. “Make sure she behaves, and you, Jess, just do what you’re told.” He hugged her tightly, then grinned and went away.
“Right,” said Mr Grahame, “now you’re here, you can go over a few things with me.” They busied themselves with preparations, double checking the controls, and the fuel cover and making sure they had all the information they might need. Mr Grahame kept an emergency kit of his own in the plane, including tools for mending the plane and a first aid kit, so they checked those as well. Jessica did not get impatient with all this checking, even though it delayed them.
She had learnt it was all part of flying and anything that helped you fly was fine with her. She could spend hours checking and cleaning without getting bored.
They took off westwards into a bright blue spring sky, unbroken to the horizon. Mr Grahame said the weather forecast was excellent, no clouds, wind or rain to mar their flight. Jessica grinned with delight. Here she was, in her favourite element, the air, on a beautiful day and nothing to do but enjoy it.
After about ten minutes, Mr Grahame offered Jessica the controls and she happily took them, keeping the Moth on the route they’d worked out. It was actually almost too simple. They would simply fly west, over Trangie, then Nevertire, before reaching Nyngan, and when they saw the town ahead, they would turn left until they saw the Morris’s homestead, with the name ‘Morris’ painted in huge letters on the roof.
Mr Morris had an area of ground he’d decided would be excellent for planes and he kept a small Avra in a large section of the stables. So it was all very easy really. So easy that Jessica kept having to remind herself to keep her eye on where she was going. That far away horizon kept drawing her eyes — and the plane — towards it.
She recognised the small town of Trangie below and, with Mr Grahame’s approval, turned a circle over the park where a few families were playing, waving in response.
West again. It was the longest she’d been allowed to keep the controls and she revelled in the way they felt. This plane had become so comfortable that her hands seemed to be part of the controls, and her feet jiggled the rudder like it was an extension.
She could fly in a straight line, turn, go in circles, take the plane up and down, but she still couldn’t take off and land. So that was next. She wouldn’t get very far if she couldn’t do that. And then she would have to learn about mountains, spins and getting out of trouble … all before she could get her licence, when she was sixteen.
Perhaps she could have some lessons in Sydney when she was there? Waiting for the holidays would be too long. Over Nevertire now, but nobody was watching, so she kept straight ahead.
Despite the brightness of the sky and sun, up here she was cold and her nose had started to drip. She wiped it and as she put the handkerchief in her pocket, she saw some buildings ahead.
“Nyngan,” said Mr Grahame, “In a couple of minutes, I’ll take over and land the beast. You’ve done a sterling job, girlie.”
‘Girlie’ thought so too, even if it had been almost too easy.
The Morris family, workers, and dogs came out to watch the plane taxi down their little runway and then crowded around as the visitors climbed out. Mr Grahame and Mr Morris had some business to transact, so Mrs Morris and a very shy fifteen-year-old daughter took Jessica into the homestead to help with morning tea.
It was a different style of building to Argyle Station’s. Single storied with a steeply peaked red iron roof and wide verandas on all sides, it was surprisingly cool inside. Still only spring, it was warm outside. With the high ceilings and fans, the house kept the heat out. Jessica wondered what it would be like in the middle of summer.
The shy daughter, Janie, did not say a word until they had placed several trays of food and tea on a big table on a side veranda. Then she called the men in a surprisingly deep and carrying voice. Jessica found she was both hungry and thirsty and filled her plate with Mrs Morris’ cakes and sandwiches, feeling like the proverbial pelican whose ‘eyes could hold more than his belly can’.
Afterwards, she and Janie went on a tour of the property in a ramshackle truck, bumping over stubble and sliding around dams. Janie might have seemed shy at first, but it didn’t last long. Jessica found she almost couldn’t get a word in edgewise until Janie started to grill her about flying.
Then they both talked flat out, through the tour, lunch and until Mr Grahame was ready to go home. “It was good to meet you,” Janie said as they were preparing to leave. “Perhaps we could write? If that’s something you do?” Jessica did, but not very often, so it was agreed. Janie was at boarding school in Bathurst, which she said she quite liked, “but the girls there …” She shrugged. Jessica knew what she meant.
They took off again into the clear blue, heading east this time, Jessica looking forward to taking the controls again. She took over after they’d gained sufficient height and kept the plane on an even route as they headed towards home. Nevertire, then next would be Trangie, then Narromine. Everything was on schedule. They’d be home for dinner.
Chapter Thirty
Suddenly Jessica felt the plane buck. An air pocket, she thought, no difficulty. I’ll just ride through it. So she held everything steady and rode through it, even though her stomach dropped with the plane.
Then they hit a second pocket and this time the plane didn’t just dip a bit. It slewed, swerving sideways and tipping. Jessica tried to straighten it but the plane only moved a little way.
She tried again, but it was no more responsive. Something had to be wrong. Holding everything as steady as she could, her arms aching with strain, Jessica thought of all the possible causes. Her mind jumped a notch as she ignored the fear that was clenching her stomach and making her hands shake.
Work it out, Jessica! Whatever the cause, they would have to land. She couldn’t think of anything that could be fixed in the air. Don’t panic, it won’t help, she kept telling herself, even though her mind kept answering, but what if you crash? What if you can’t keep it stable, what if … ?
Mr Grahame’s calm voice came through the communication system. “I’ll take over, Jess. We’re going to have to go down. Lucky it’s pancake flat out here because it’s going to be a paddock.”
She was relieved, but also sorry, because holding the joystick and concentrating had given her mind something to focus on apart from her spiralling fear. She clenched her hands together and took a couple of deep breaths, ignoring the voices in her mind, what if …?
It was a rough landing. Not only the ground — which had stubble, hillocks and holes, but the plane itself. Mr Grahame had to exert all his strength to get it to respond and even then, it didn’t want to. He slowed, he pulled and the wheels touched the earth, bumped and rose, and then touched again, grabbing at the ragged ground and bumping again. He pulled on the rudder and the joystick, a light control to prevent a skid. Slowing, roaring, it began to answer. As he pulled up, the plane hit a hole and dropped onto a wing, scraping it on a stone in the process.
“Dear me,” said Mr Grahame, from his seat, surveying the slightly mangled wing. “if we don’t fix that we’ll never get home.”
Very mild in the circumstances. Jessica was sure that he’d have sworn copiously if she weren’t there. She looked over at him. His nose was bleeding; he must have hit it when they landed. Good thing they had the first aid kit after all.
“Can we fix it out here?”
“Don’t know yet, but we’ve got to try. Can’t see any habitation in sight, can you?”
Jessica squinted around. “No, so it’s just us if we want to get home then?”
“Yep, too right, so let’s see, shall we?” They climbed down, gingerly. The ground was, as her father would say, rough as guts. But it was flat enough to land on, more or less. They examined the wing first. There was a small break in the skin, and one of the struts was just off centre; Possibly cracked rather than broken. The rest of the body was intact.
Mr Grahame stood scratching his head, contemplating the damage. Jessica kept quiet, waiting for his view. She thought they could fix it; they’d had enough practice with the other wing. But it wasn’t the wing that worried her.
“What do you think, girlie? Could we do it?”
“Possibly. It doesn’t look too bad. You’ve got your tools and I think we’ve something to patch the fabric.”
“Mmm. But I’m a bit worried about the engine, too. I think something happened in that second air pocket.”
“Maybe, so what do you want to do first?”
“Let’s start with the engine. I’ll get the toolbox.”
“Lucky we got so much to eat at the Morris’s. We might be stuck here for hours.”
“Hmmm.” Mr Grahame spread out the tools, and they made their choices. The cable to the ailerons had come adrift, but until they looked more closely, they couldn’t tell if it was broken.
“Climb in there, girlie. You’re smaller than me. Tell me what’s gone wrong.” Jessica giggled, remembering the old tale of Bert Hinkler and the Wizard. “Ah, the carburettor?”
“Don’t be daft, that didn’t sound like a carburettor to me. Did it to you?”
“Sorry, it was just a joke,” and Jessica reminded him of the Hinkler legend. He smiled, but his enthusiasm was dampened by worry. She could see the way his mouth set in a straight line and his brow furrowed. Perhaps trying to make light of it wasn’t a good idea. But she did feel like giggling. The eternal minutes of fear before landing had passed, but their aftermath made her silly with relief.
Jessica’s small hands felt to the end of the cable, which came away so they could see it. “I think it is broken,” she said, wiping her hand on her trousers. “So, what does that mean?”
“We could do a temporary repair, I think, but I’m not sure how safe it’d be.” Pilots needed to be imaginative bush mechanics, Jessica thought, so she rummaged in the tool box and found some wire that might hold it all together. Out here they couldn’t weld anything or even solder it, so winding wire around the cable and where it attached might work. She looked up. The sun was beginning to cast purple shadows across the ground, long fingers of trees snaked out to the plane’s wheels.
“We haven’t got much time,” she warned. “It’s going to be dark in an hour or so.” Mr Grahame looked around. In the distance, there was one homestead, but it had looked deserted when they flew over and he doubted there’d be much help. Possibly they could get the cable operating, enough to reach Narromine, but he wasn’t sure about that wing, however optimistic Jessica was.
They looked at each other and grimaced, neither expressing their fear that they were stuck.
And soon Jessica’s family would start to worry. At first, they would think the plane was a bit late, but as dusk reached Argyle Station, they would know there was a problem. She’d seen her parents’ reaction when Charles and Billy had had the accident with the tractor and she knew they would come close to panic if she weren’t home by dark.
“All right, girlie. We’ll have a go at the cable while I think about that wing.” Jessica did most of the work, as she could reach better, while Mr Grahame handed her tools, wire and, when she was puffed, some water. It took ages before she was satisfied that they had a good running repair.
“All right, let’s look at the wing, now.” So they stood and looked. It was slightly bent, with a hole. On the surface, it didn’t look too bad, but when they shook it, it became clear that the wing was more than bent. The cracked strut was not going to hold anything. Even if Jessica got out her sewing kit and herringboned a patch of linen over the hole, they were not going to be able to make it airworthy.
Mr Grahame sighed, muttering something under his breath. “I think it’s too far gone to fix out here.”
“Yes.”
So what were they going to do? They couldn’t contact home. They couldn’t get there by any other means. They were stranded. “I suppose we’re going to have to make the most of it.”
“Yes,” Jessica repeated, wishing she’d brought a blanket or two with her. They sat under the intact wing and watched the shadows creep closer and closer, until at last it was too dark to see. Then they settled themselves down and tried to get comfortable, for the long wait until daylight.
Chapter Thirty One
Johnny’s father was surprised at the knock on the front door, a couple of hours after dinner. He was even more surprised to see Angus Mackay, his face white. “Good evening, Sammy. Can I speak to Johnny please?”
“Nothing wrong, is there?”
“I hope not. It’s just that Jess’s late back from a plane trip with Mr Grahame and I hoped Johnny might know their route.”
Johnny came out of the room he shared with his older brother as he recognised Jessica’s father’s voice. “Mr Mackay?”
“Johnny, Jess isn’t back yet and I wondered if you knew the route?”
“Jess made me go over it with her, so yes, I do.” Angus smiled. “Good, let’s have a look, shall we?”
Johnny laid out a map of western New South Wales. It wasn’t topographical or designed for aviators, but it would do. “It’s fairly simple really. See the road and the railway line? They were going to fly more or less along them until they got to Nyngan and then come back the same way.”
“So, if we took a car on that route, we might see them?” Johnny could see that Mr Mackay was imagining a crash site and bodies strewn around and for a moment his own stomach clenched with the same fear. But he thought that p
anicking would hardly help so he swallowed and tried to concentrate.
“Probably, but wouldn’t it be better to wait for dawn and take a plane out?”
“The plane might be faster and see further, but if they needed help, we couldn’t pick them up, could we?”
“Maybe both?” Johnny had already decided to involve himself in any rescue. Mr Lee came over to the table and asked what he could do.
Jessica’s father thought. “Perhaps Mr Fletcher could get someone to fly out at dawn. Could you ring him, please?” Mr Lee nodded and went towards the phone.
He returned with the news that Mr Fletcher had organised Bruce Irvine — a wartime pilot and stalwart of the Aero Club — to go up at dawn. “Thanks Sammy. I’ll set out in the car now. Can I take Johnny to navigate?”
With his father’s approval, Johnny ran after Mr Mackay and they pointed the car west. “We could see them from the road if they were close by, but if they weren’t then …”
“So, what do you suggest?”
“I’m tempted to say take the car along the western highway, because if they needed help (he didn’t want to say, “If they’re injured,” but he thought it) and we hadn’t, we’d always regret it.”
Johnny knew Jessica’s family would be devastated if anything happened to her, but he realised he would be as well. She was really the only person who understood his desire to become an engineer. His family tolerated it and would support him but they thought it was a strange ambition.
His parents were third generation Australians, descended from Chinese miners and shopkeepers who came with the New South Wales gold rush and they wanted their children to succeed in life. But they hadn’t quite expected a son who was so naturally good at mathematics and who outpaced them all so fast. Whatever had to be done, he would help.
Within ten minutes, Angus and Johnny were several miles along the road to Trangie. They’d made a quick stop at Argyle Station but fended off Billy’s desire to go with them, explaining they might need the seats and hoping that Jessica and Mr Grahame would be well enough to sit up in them. They didn’t travel fast as they wanted to examine each side of the road as they drove.
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