A half hour later they swung down a long hill and into the main street of a little town, nestling in a deep valley, with a long, lake-like arm of the Sound coming nearly to the center of the village. They turned off and wound through a big yard where piles of boards and planks and beams rose up like top-heavy buildings along the narrow roads. The smell of cedar and pine hung in the air. They drew up at the wide-open door of a shed from which came the whine of buzz-saws and the pounding of hammers. They had hardly stopped when a sunburned man appeared at the door, evidently expecting them.
“Hello, Bert,” they called.
He rushed over to the car, shook hands with Dad, and there was a great hubbub of questions and answers. He said their boat was waiting, and it would be a tip-top place to spend a cool hour or so hearing all the news.
They were rowed out, and Kiwi spent busy minutes exploring the little houseboat. He came into the sitting room in time to hear Dad say to Bert, “As soon as the backers came across with the money, I wired Burrows to start work on the plane as we had planned it and to rush it through so that we could make our tests and still get off in June while the weather was good. Then I turned heaven and earth trying to find Jack. I had no idea whether he was out East with the fleet or had come back. When I did locate him, he was able to get leave from the Navy to make the flight, and hopped a train for Washington and got right to work on weather maps. He seems to have the navigation part of our trip very thoroughly in hand. Tomorrow I will get over to the factory and see if they cannot be hurried with the plane.”
And from then on there had been endless conferences with old friends and new about equipment to be taken, routes to be followed, wind currents to dodge. The days had stretched into weeks, and still the plane was on the ground.
Kiwi had been taken to the factory twice. The plane looked enormous even in its unfinished state. The body of the machine still lacked its covering, but in its middle sat an enormous metal tank. Control wires seemed to run in all directions. The big wing also carried two tanks, and only the wing-tips were hollow. The engine was still missing. There were reports that it had been shipped, but for days after that it did not put in an appearance.
Nearly always Jack and Kiwi spent the day on the houseboat or driving over the winding country roads near by. Jack pored over maps and strange charts. He brought home queer instruments and tested them from the roof of their houseboat during the moonlight nights. They swam, and once or twice they went fishing.
At last the day came when the plane was finished, and must be taken up for its first test flight. Jack and Dad had talked it over the day before, and it was decided that Jack and Kiwi should stay on the boat and let Dad do the testing.
“You’ll get plenty of chances, Jack, later on, after I get the feel of it.”