Hammond Innes: Air Bridge

It was some time since I’d worked at a lathe. But it’s a thing that once you’ve learnt you never forget. He stood over me for a time and it made me nervous. But as the shavings of metal ran off the lathe my confidence returned. My mind ceased to worry about the events of the last twenty-four hours. It became concentrated entirely in the fascination of turning a piece of mechanism out of a lump of metal. I ceased to be conscious of his presence. Hands and brain combined to recapture my old skill, and pride of craftsmanship took hold of me as the shape of the piston slowly emerged from the metal.

When I looked up again Carter was leaning over the specifications, his eyes staring at a bolt he was screwing in and out of a nut. His mind was outside the shop, worrying about his own personal problems. He looked up and caught my eye. Then he threw the bolt down and came towards me.

I bent to my work again and for a time he stood watching me in silence. At length he said, ‘How long have you known Saeton?’

I didn’t know what to say so I didn’t answer him. ‘Saeton was a Coastal Command pilot.’ The metal whirled under my hands, thin silver slivers streaming from it. ‘I don’t believe you’ve ever met him before in your life.’

I stopped the lathe. ‘Do you want me to balls this up?’ I said.

He was fidgeting with the metal shavings. ‘I was just wondering-’ He stopped then and changed his line of approach. ‘What do you think of him, eh?’ He was looking directly at me now. ‘He’s mad, of course. But it’s the madness that builds empires.’ I could see he worshipped the man. There was a boy’s admiration in his voice. ‘He thinks he’ll lick every charter company in the country once he gets into the air.’

‘They’re most of them on the verge of bankruptcy anyway,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘I’ve been with him for two years now. Working in partnership, you know. We had one plane flying — single-engined job. But that crashed.’ His fingers strayed back to the metal shavings. ‘He’s a crazy devil. Incredible energy. The hell of it is his enthusiasm is infectious. When you’re with him you believe what he wants you to believe. Did you hear what we were talking about when you were fixing that door?’

Tart of it,’ I said guardedly.

He nodded absently. ‘My wife’s got a will of her own. She’s American. Do you think he’ll persuade her to agree to give me three months more?’ He picked up a block of metal destined to be the next piston. ‘He’s right, of course. With the three of us working at it we ought to be able to complete the second engine in two months.’ He sighed. ‘Having come this far I’d like to see it through to the end. This place has become almost a part of me.’ He turned slowly and stared at the tail-plane of the aircraft. ‘I’d like to see her flying.’

I couldn’t help him so I started the lathe again and he moved off along the bench and began work on an induction coil.

Half an hour later Saeton returned. He came and stood over me as I measured the diameter of the piston-head with a screw micrometer. Carter moved along the bench. ‘Well?’ he asked, his voice hesitant.

‘Oh, she agrees,’ Saeton said. His manner was offhand, but when I glanced at him I saw that he was pale as though he’d driven himself hard to get her agreement. ‘She’ll bring lunch up to us here.’

Carter stared at him almost unbelievingly. Then suddenly his eyes crinkled and his face fell into its natural mould of smiling good humour. ‘Well, I’m damned!’ he said and went whistling down the bench back to his induction coil.

‘I see you know how to handle a lathe,’ Saeton said to me. And then with sudden violence, ‘By God! I believe we’ll do it in a couple of months.’

And then the phone rang.

He started and the light died out of his face as though he were expecting this call. He went slowly down the bench and lifted the receiver. His face gradually darkened as he bent over the instrument and then he shouted, ‘You’re selling out on me? Don’t be a fool, Dick… Of course, I understand… But wait a minute. Listen, damn you! I’ve got another man up here. Two months, that’s all I’m asking… Well, six weeks then… No, of course I can’t guarantee anything. But you’ve got to hang on a bit longer. In a couple of months we’ll have it in the air … Surely you can hang on a couple of months?… All right, if that’s the way you feel. But come down and see me first… Yes. A thing like this needs talking over… Tomorrow, then. All right.’

He replaced the receiver slowly. ‘Was that Dick?’ Carter asked.

Saeton nodded. ‘Yes. He’s had an offer for the aircraft and all the equipment here. He’s threatening to sell us up.’ He picked up a stool and sent it spinning across the hangar. ‘God damn him, why can’t he understand we’re on the verge of success at last?’

Carter said nothing. I returned to my lathe. Saeton hesitated and then seized hold of the folder of specifications. For a moment he held it in his hands as though about to tear it across. His face was dark with passion. Then he flung it down and went over to the engine standing on its blocks against the wall. He pressed a switch and the thing roared into life, a shattering, earsplitting din that drowned all sound of my lathe. And he stood watching it, caressing it with his eyes as though all his world was concentrated in the live, dinning roar of it.

As I worked at the lathe and the day wore on, it slowly dawned on me what an incredible stroke of luck I had had. It was as though I had been given another chance. And this was legal. I might not have taken Saeton’s word for it, but the presence of Tubby Carter proved there was nothing wrong with the setup. He was so unquestionably honest. With him working beside me the whole thing became ordinary, matter-of-fact.

Saeton was different. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the man. But he was a human dynamo, full of nervous, violent energy. The mercurial emotionalism of the Celt seemed mixed with a Saxon stolidity and singleness of purpose and I felt he was capable of anything. He was a born leader with that vital spark that can kindle enthusiasm in others, the type that can whip the dull heart of the mob into thundering passion. His strength was that he didn’t need the support of others. It was all there inside him. He showed that when he switched off the thundering din of that one engine and turned with a grim concentration to the job of winding the armature of a starter motor. The structure of his life was crumbling about him. His partner was selling him up. But he didn’t discuss it. He threw himself into the work that littered the bench with the silent preoccupation of a man who can see the finished article in his mind’s eye.

Something of his drive and purpose seemed to enter into the two of us as we worked beside him. And the fascination of seeing a part of a complicated machine take shape under my hands so engrossed me that I lost all sense of time. I didn’t notice Carter’s wife bring in our lunch. Saeton pushed a mug of tea and some sandwiches along the bench to me and I ate whilst I worked. He and Carter did the same.

The only interruption was just after we’d switched on the light plant, shortly after four. There was a banging on the door. Saeton shouted to know who it was and a voice answered, ‘The police.’ I looked up at him from the lathe, my heart suddenly in my mouth. I had so completely lost myself in the work that the reminder that the authorities were searching for me came as a shock.

‘ Saeton tossed me a flash-mask. ‘Put that on,’ he ordered crisply. ‘The oxy-acetylene equipment is at the end of the bench there.’ I saw Carter looking at me curiously. Then I had the mask on and was hurrying across to the oxygen cylinders.