And to Kiwi he said, “Well, boy, you’re in for a long ride this time.”
Kiwi went to work with a will—unlashed the cans, unscrewed the tops, and passed them over to Jack who, standing on his seat, poured the fuel into the main tank. They disposed of five of them. As Jack opened the sliding panel of glass beside him, a terrific stream of air blew into the cockpit, and he hurled each can in turn as far out and down as he could, so that they would not be carried back into the tail. Kiwi looked out of his little side-window to see them tumbling into space, turning over and over, the light glinting on them as they fell.
Beneath them the wind must have been freshening, for there were signs of whitecaps on the level floor of the ocean. Dimly to the left could be seen the shore line.
Shortly after eleven o’clock, Jack picked up signals from the S. S. Mauretania. She was notifying the shore stations that she believed she had sighted the “Dauntless” a short time before.
A little later they were passing over land, which Jack said was the shore line of Nova Scotia.
Kiwi commenced to feel hungry, and busied himself peeling one of Old Bill’s oranges, most of which he passed over to Dad and Jack.
Jack took over the controls and flew the plane a couple of hours while the Skipper stretched himself and carried on a halting conversation with Kiwi.
He learned how, when he had sent him to find Bert, Kiwi had made a hesitating search, had circled back to the plane, and, without being seen, had climbed into his place in the rear compartment.
Dad tried to look stern, but Kiwi could feel that already he had been forgiven.
The plane hummed along, and they felt almost as though they were on a picnic.