Hornet Flight

was also rain, and the water stayed on the windshield. Unlike a car, the Hornet Moth had no windshield wipers.

He remembered what Karen had said about disorientation, and resolved not to make any sudden moves. However, staring constantly into swirling nothingness was strangely hypnotic. He wished he could talk to Karen, but he felt she needed sleep after what she had been through. He lost track of the passage of time. He started to imagine shapes in the cloud. He saw a horse’s head, the hood of a Lincoln Continental, and the moustached face of Neptune. Ahead of him, at eleven o’clock and a few feet below, he saw a fishing boat, with sailors on deck gazing up at him in wonderment.

That was no illusion, he realized, snapping back to full consciousness. The mist had cleared and he was seeing a real boat. He looked at the altimeter. Both hands pointed up. He was at sea level. He had lost altitude without noticing.

Instinctively, he pulled the stick back, lifting the nose, but as he did so he heard Karen’s voice in his head saying, But never raise the nose too sharply, or you will stall. That means you lose lift, and the aircraft falls out of the sky. He realized what he had done, and remembered how to correct it, but he was not sure he had time. The aircraft was already losing altitude. He put the nose down and pushed the throttle all the way forward. He was level with the fishing boat as he passed it. He risked pulling the nose up a fraction. He waited for the wheels to hit the waves. The aircraft flew on. He pulled the nose up a little more. He risked a glance at the altimeter. He was climbing. He let out a long breath.

“Pay attention, you fool,” he said aloud. “Stay awake.”

He continued climbing. The cloud dissipated, and he emerged into a clear morning. He checked his watch. It was four o’clock. The sun was about to rise. Looking up through the transparent roof of the cabin, he could see the North Star to his right. That meant his compass was accurate, and he was still heading west.

Frightened of getting too close to the sea, he climbed for half an hour. The temperature dropped, and cold air came in through the window he had smashed out for his improvised fuel line. He wrapped the blanket around himself for warmth. At ten thousand feet, he was about to level off when the engine coughed.

At first he could not figure out what the noise was. The engine sound had been steady for so many hours that he had ceased to hear it.

Then it came again, and he realized the engine had misfired.

He felt as if his heart had stopped. He was about two hundred miles from land in any direction. If the engine failed now, he would come down in the sea.

It coughed again.

“Karen!” he shouted. “Wake up!”

She slept on. He took his hand off the stick and shook her shoulder. “Karen!”

Her eyes opened. She appeared better for her sleep, calmer and less flushed, but a look of fear came over her face as soon as she heard the engine. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know!”

“Where are we?”

“Miles from anywhere.”

The engine continued to cough and splutter.

“We may have to land in the sea,” Karen said. “What’s our altitude?”

“Ten thousand feet.”

“Is the throttle fully open?”

“Yes, I was climbing.”

“That’s the problem. Bring it back halfway.”

He pulled the throttle back.

Karen said, “When the throttle is on full, the engine draws air from outside, rather than from within the engine compartment, so it’s colder-at this altitude, cold enough to form ice in the carburetor.”

“What can we do?”

“Descend.” She took the stick and pushed it forward. “As we go down, the air temperature should rise, and the ice will melt-eventually.”

“If it doesn’t. .”

“Look for a ship. If we can splash down near one, we may be rescued.”

Harald scanned the sea from horizon to horizon, but he could see no ships.

With the engine misfiring they had little thrust and lost altitude rapidly. Harald took the axe from the locker, ready to carry out his plan of hacking off a wing to use as a float. He put the bottles of water in his jacket pockets. He did not know if they would survive in the sea long enough to die of thirst.

He watched the altimeter. They came down to a thousand feet, then five hundred. The sea looked black and cold. There were still no ships in sight.

A weird calm settled over Harald. “I think we’re going to die,” he said. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

“We’re not finished yet,” she said. “See if you can give me a few more revs, so that we don’t splash down too hard.”

Harald pushed the throttle forward. The engine note rose. It missed, fired, and missed again.

Harald said, “I don’t think-”

Then the engine seemed to catch.

It roared steadily for several seconds, and Harald held his breath; then it misfired again. Finally it burst into a steady roar. The aircraft began to climb.

Harald realized they were both cheering.

The revs rose to nineteen hundred without missing a beat. “The ice melted!” Karen said.

Harald kissed her. It was quite difficult. Although they were shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh in the cramped cabin, it was awkward to turn in the seat, especially with a seat belt on. But he managed it.

“That was nice,” she said.

“If we survive this, I’m going to kiss you every day for the rest of my life,” he said happily.

“Really?” she said. “The rest of your life could be a long time.”

“I hope so.”

She looked pleased. Then she said, “We should check the fuel.”

Harald twisted in his seat to look at the gauge between the seat backs. It was difficult to read, having two scales, one for use in the air and the other for on the ground when the aircraft was tilted.

But they both read near to “Empty.”

“Hell, the tank is almost dry,” Harald said.

“There’s no land in sight.” She looked at her watch. “We’ve been in the air five and a half hours, so we’re probably still half an hour from land.”

“That’s all right, I can top up the tank.” He unbuckled his seat belt and turned awkwardly to kneel on his seat. The petrol can stood on the luggage shelf behind the seats. Beside it was a funnel and one end of a length of garden hose. Before takeoff, Harald had broken the window and passed the hose through the hole, lashing the other end to the petrol inlet in the side of the fuselage.

But now he could see the outside end of the hose flapping in the slipstream. He cursed.

Karen said, “What’s the matter?”

“The hose has worked loose in flight. I didn’t tie it tight enough.”

“What are we going to do? We have to refuel!”

Harald looked at the petrol can, the funnel, the hose, and the window. “I’ve got to put the hose into the filler neck. And it can’t be done from in here.”

“You can’t go outside!”

“What will it do to the aircraft if I open the door?”

“My God, it’s like a giant air brake. It will slow us down and turn us left.”

“Can you cope with that?”

“I can maintain airspeed by putting the nose down. I suppose I could press down on the right rudder pedal with my left foot.”

“Let’s try it.”

Karen put the aircraft into a gentle dive, then put her left foot on the right rudder pedal. “Okay.”