Air Stories — page 38: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AIR STORIES panion. ‘‘ If you ask me, he’s no credit to the Service. It wouldn’t matter so much at a shore station, but in a carrier he lets us all down.’’ - Meek himself was indifferent to such opinions, knowing that his silence was due neither to shyness nor superiority, but to an unfortunate impediment in his speech. And as flying officers are not permitted such defects, it was only by a due deliberation and brevity of speech that he had so far concealed his shortcoming. But what Meek lacked in the matter of loquacity he made up for in other ways. He was, for one thing, par- ticularly observant, and it was he who, above the chatter of the crowded ward- room, first became aware of a drop in the ship’s engine revolutions. Instinctively, he raised his eyes to where Patemore was telling a good story and noticed an orderly hand him a message. By this time the whole wardroom had sensed that something was up, and when Pat said, ‘‘ Close the bar,’’? they were certain. For the bar was never open when flying was in progress, though it was at all other times. A hush descended on the wardroom. ‘‘Orders are cancelled,’’ announced the Wing Commander. ‘‘ We are not going to the Mediterranean ; the cruise to Capetown will be resumed. Flying training will take place whenever pos- sible.’’ He dropped his voice to speak to Vachell, and everyone knew what that meant. The Nimrods were to fly at once. EEK, brightening perceptibly on hearing the news, hurried along to his cabin, and when an orderly came to summon him a few minutes later, he was already in flying kit. He climbed down a ladder into a vast hangar, and down another to a yet lower hangar. Here was a considerable though orderly activity, in contrast to the peace of a few minutes earlier. The floor space was packed with Hawker aircraft about which ack-emmas_ hovered busily. Already several Kestrels were warming 36 up, and the noise they made was mag- nified a hundredfold by the steel wails of the hangar. The din was almost unbearable. Meek twisted in and out of wings and tail-planes until he came to the cockpit of his own machine and clambered in. He grinned at the men who were minis- tering to the engine, secured his harness, and then sat back to wait his turn on the after lift. Presently, mechanics began to trundle his machine towards the liit, and very soon he was ascending. He passed through the upper hangar, cram- med with Ospreys, to emerge at last into the brilliance of the flying-deck. His Nimrod was hurried aft, chains were hooked on its undercarriage, and after a brief test of his engine, Meek raised a hand in signal of his satisfaction. He was now ready to take-off. Meanwhile, another aircraft had ap- peared and was now ahead of him, but slightly to starboard. There was one more to come; and, as he looked, it emerged through the gaping hole in the flying-deck and was hurried into posi- tion. The last machine up was always the first to take-off. Meek watched the Wing Commander’s cockpit, for’ard on the port side. Already the leading Nimrod had its engine pulling a little, so that mechanics hugged its struts to keep it in place. A green flag flashed from the Wing Commander’s cockpit, a Kestrel roared, men dropped prone, and the first air- craft leapt forward towards a wisp of steam in the bows, raced down the centre of the deck and roared off into flight. A brief interval, and the second machine had followed it into the air. For the third time the flag signal showed, and Meek surged forward. A twenty-knot wind swept the flying-deck, so that after a few yards he was able to lift his machine into the air, dip the port wing and climb in a sweeping turn to pick up formation. Already the coast of Portugal was merging with the blue mist to the nor’ard, while on the starboard hand a curving line of sand, so pale in tint as to be almost as white as the surf that edged it, revealed Co LDOO