CHAPTER XXIX
In the Interests of the State
It did not take Derek long to accustom himself to the peculiarities of the sea-plane. Had it been one of the flying-boats that the Lieutenant had been called upon to pilot across the seas the task would have been an awkward and difficult one. Once fairly up, there is very little difference between an aeroplane and a sea-plane, but there are wide distinctions between the latter and the huge flying-boats which, devoid of floats, rely upon their hulls for buoyancy when on the water.
Derek elected to fly fairly high, maintaining a height of five thousand feet. This gave him a chance, in the event of making a blunder with the unaccustomed system of controls, while at the same time there was less chance of coming across an air-pocket.
Quickly he discovered that his hand had not lost its cunning. Although it was months—it seemed like years—since Derek had had control of joy-stick and rudder-bar, the old skill still remained. And the exhilaration of it! To be once more rushing through space, soaring high above the waves!
"This is some stunt," thought the reinstated pilot. "Wonder what's taking the old Brass Hat to Spain? Joy-ride, or what? After all, it's all in a day's work."
Applying the automatic steering device Derek turned to consult the charts. A hasty examination showed that his predecessor had faithfully recorded the course almost up to the time of the triplane's involuntary descent. The red-inked line and rough-pencilled notations were of considerable service. They enabled Derek to set a compass-course corrected for air leeway and ordinary magnetic deviation. Provided the force and direction of the wind remained fairly constant, the task of piloting the seaplane would be a fairly simple matter.
It was aviation de luxe. The pilot's house, with windows of triplex glass affording an all-round view, was warm and free from buffeting draughts. With the glass in position the roar of the powerful engines was reduced to a barely perceptible purr.
Thirty miles to the nor'ard the rugged uplands of Dartmoor could be clearly discerned, while ahead, and slightly on the starboard bow, could be seen the indented outlines of the Cornish coast, for Derek was purposely keeping within easy distance of shore until well over the Scillies. Then it was his intention to strike a bee-line for his destination. Occasionally altering the automatic course-director, Derek found that he had plenty of time at his disposal. After a while things became tedious. Cooped up in a glass box he missed the actual sensation of flying through the air. It was more like sitting in a carriage of an express train than being absolutely in control of an air-craft. Compared with the lift and heave of the ocean the motion seemed a very tame affair.