Night Over Water (64 page)

The laughter made everyone realize that they were out of danger, and some of the passengers began to relax. Margaret still felt peculiar, and she was shivering as if it were freezing cold.

The captain nudged Luther with the toe of his shoe and spoke to another crewman. “Johnny, stick this guy in number one compartment and keep a close watch on him.”

Harry got off Luther and one of the crew took the man away.

Harry and Margaret looked at one another.

She had imagined he had abandoned her; she had thought she would never see him again; she had been sure she was about to die. Suddenly it seemed unbearably wonderful that they were both alive and together. He sat down next to her, and she threw herself into his arms. They hugged one another tight.

After a while he murmured in her ear: “Look outside.”

The submarine was slowly slipping beneath the waves.

Margaret smiled up at Harry and then kissed him.

 

 

 

 

W
hen it was all over, Carol-Ann would not touch Eddie.

She sat in the dining room, sipping hot milky coffee prepared by Davy, the steward. She was pale and shaky, but she kept saying she was all right. However, she flinched every time Eddie put his hand on her.

He sat close, looking at her, but she would not meet his eyes. They spoke in low voices about what had happened. She told him obsessively, again and again, how the men had burst into the house and dragged her out into their car. “I was standing there bottling plums!” she kept saying, as if that was the most outrageous aspect of the whole episode.

“It’s all over now,” he would say each time, and she would nod her head vigorously, but he could tell she did not believe it.

At last she looked at him and said: “When will you have to fly next?”

Then he understood. She was frightened about how she would feel the next time he left her alone. He felt relieved: he could reassure her about that, easily. “I won’t be flying anymore,” he told her. “I’m resigning right away. They’d have to fire me otherwise: they can’t employ an engineer who deliberately brought a plane down the way I did.”

Captain Baker overheard part of the conversation, and interrupted him. “Eddie, there’s something I have to say to you. I understand what you did. You were put in an impossible position and you handled it the best you could. More than that, I don’t know another man that would have handled it so well. You were brave and you were smart, and I’m proud to fly with you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Eddie said, and there was a lump in his throat. “I can’t tell you how good that makes me feel.” Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Percy Oxenford, sitting alone, looking shocked. “Sir, I think we all should thank young Percy: he saved the day!”

Percy heard him and looked up.

“Good point,” said the captain. He patted Eddie on the shoulder and went over to shake the boy’s hand. “You’re a brave man, Percy.”

Percy cheered up instantly. “Thank you!” he said.

The captain sat down to chat with him, and Carol-Ann said to Eddie : “If you’re not flying, what will we do?”

“I’ll start that business we’ve been talking about.”

He could see the hope in her face, but she did not really believe it yet. “Can we?”

“I’ve got enough money saved to buy the airfield, and I’ll borrow what I need to get started.”

She was visibly brightening by the second. “Could we run it together?” she said. “Maybe I could keep the books and answer the phone while you do repairs and refueling?”

He smiled and nodded. “Sure, at least until the baby comes.”

“Just like a mom-and-pop store.”

He reached out and took her hand, and this time she did not flinch, but squeezed his hand in return. “Mom and Pop,” he said, and at last she smiled.

 

Nancy was hugging Mervyn when Diana tapped him on the shoulder.

Nancy had been lost in joy and relief, overwhelmed by the pleasure of being alive and with the man she loved. Now she wondered if Diana would cast a cloud over this moment. Diana had left Mervyn indecisively, and she had shown signs of regretting it, off and on, ever since. He had just proved that he still cared for her by bargaining with the gangsters to save her. Was she about to beg him to take her back?

Mervyn turned and gave his wife a guarded look. “Well, Diana?”

Her face was wet with tears, but she had a determined expression. “Will you shake hands?” she said.

Nancy was not sure what this meant, and Mervyn’s wary manner told her that he, too, was uncertain. However, he offered his hand, saying: “Of course.”

Diana held his hand in both of hers. New tears came, and Nancy felt sure she was about to say
Let’s try again,
but instead she said: “Good luck, Mervyn. I wish you happiness.”

Mervyn looked solemn. “Thank you, Di. I wish you the same.”

Then Nancy understood: they were forgiving one another for the hurt that had been done. They were still going to split up, but they would part friends.

On impulse, Nancy said to Diana: “Will you shake hands with me?”

The other woman hesitated only for a fraction of a second. “Yes,” she said. They shook hands. “I wish you well,” Diana said.

“And I you.”

Diana turned around without saying any more and went aft along the aisle to her compartment.

Mervyn said: “But what about us? What are we going to do?”

Nancy realized she had not yet had time to tell him of her plan. “I’m going to be Nat Ridgeway’s European manager.”

Mervyn was surprised. “When did he offer you the job?”

“He hasn’t—but he will,” she said, and she laughed happily.

She heard the sound of an engine. It was not one of the Clipper’s mighty engines, but a smaller one. She looked out of the window, wondering if the navy had arrived.

To her surprise, she saw that the gangsters’ motor launch had been untied from the Clipper and from the little seaplane and was pulling away rapidly.

But who was driving it?

 

Margaret opened the throttle wide and steered the launch away from the Clipper.

The wind blew her hair off her face, and she gave a whoop of sheer exhilaration. “Free!” she yelled. “I’m free!”

She and Harry had had the idea at the same time. They had been standing in the aisle of the Clipper, wondering what to do next, when Eddie, the engineer, brought the skipper of the launch down the stairs and put him in number 1 compartment with Luther; and both of them had been struck by the identical thought.

The passengers and crew were too busy congratulating one another to take much notice of Margaret and Harry as they slipped into the bow compartment and boarded the launch. The engine was idling. Harry had untied the ropes while Margaret figured out the controls, which were just like Father’s boat in Nice, and they were away in seconds.

She did not think they would be chased. The naval cutter summoned by the engineer was in hot pursuit of a German submarine, and could not be expected to take an interest in a man who had stolen a pair of cuff links in London. When the police arrived they would be investigating murder, kidnapping and piracy: it would be a long time before they worried about Harry.

Harry rummaged in a locker and found some maps. After studying them for a while he said: “There are lots of charts of the waters around a bay called Blacks Harbour, which is right on the border between the U.S.A. and Canada. I think we must be near there. We should head for the Canadian side.”

A little later he said: “There’s a big place about seventy-five miles north of here called St. John. It has a railway station. Are we heading north?”

She looked at the compass. “More or less, yes.”

“I don’t know anything about navigating, but if we keep in sight of the coast I don’t see how we can go wrong. We should get there around nightfall.”

She smiled at him.

He put the charts down and stood beside her at the wheel, staring at her hard.

“What?” she said. “What is it?”

He shook his head as if in disbelief. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “And you like me!”

She laughed. “Anyone would like you, if they knew you.”

He put his arm around her waist. “This is a hell of a thing, sailing along in the sunshine with a girl like you. My old mum always said I was lucky, and she was right, wasn’t she?”

“What will we do when we get to St. John?” she said.

“We’ll beach the launch, walk into town, get a room for the night and take the first train out in the morning.”

“I don’t know what we’re going to do for money,” she said with a little frown of worry.

“Yes, that is a problem. I’ve only got a few pounds, and we’ll have to pay for hotels, rail tickets, new clothes....”

“I wish I’d brought my overnight case, like you.”

He looked mischievous. “That’s not my case,” he said. “It’s Mr. Luther’s.”

She was mystified. “Why did you bring Mr. Luther’s case?”

“Because it’s got a hundred thousand dollars in it,” he said, and he started to laugh.

 

 

The golden age of the flying boats was very short.

Only twelve Boeing B-314s were built, six of the first model and six more of a slightly modified version called the B-314A. Nine were handed over to the U.S. military early in the war. One of these, the
Dixie Clipper,
carried President Roosevelt to the Casablanca Conference in January 1943. Another, the
Yankee Clipper,
crashed at Lisbon in February 1943 with twenty-nine casualties—the only crash in the history of the aircraft.

The three planes Pan American did not give to the U.S. military were sold to the British, and were also used to carry VIPs across the Atlantic: Churchill flew on two, the
Bristol
and the
Berwick.

The point of flying boats was that they did not need expensive long concrete runways. During the war, however, long runways were built in many parts of the world to accommodate heavy bombers, and the advantage of the flying boats disappeared.

After the war the B-314 was uneconomic, and one by one the planes were scrapped or scuttled.

There are now none left anywhere in the world.

 

 

I thank the many people and organizations who helped me research this book, especially:

In New York:
Pan American Airlines, most particularly their librarian, Liwa Chiu;

In London:
Lord Willis;

In Manchester :
Chris Makepeace;

In Southampton:
Ray Facey of Associated British Ports and Ian Sinclair of RAF Hythe;

In Foynes:
Margaret O’Shaughnessy of the Flying Boat Museum;

In Botwood:
Tip Evans, the Botwood Heritage Museum, and the hospitable people of Botwood;

In Shediac:
Ned Belliveau and his family, and Charles Allain and the Moncton Museum;

Former Pan American crew and other employees who flew on the Clipper:
Madeline Cuniff, Bob Fordyce, Lew Lindsey, Jim McLeod, States Mead, Roger Wolin and Stan Zedalis;

For finding most of the above:
Dan Starer and Pam Mendez.

 

 

Ken Follett is the international bestselling author of suspense thrillers and the nonfiction
On Wings of Eagles.
He lives in England.

Visit Ken Follett’s official Web site at
www.ken-follett.com
.