"By Jove! the Pater was right after all," soliloquized Derek. "Flying's all very well; but it's the sea that scores—scores every time. There's nothing to equal a life afloat."
He let down one of the sliding glass panels. The rush of air acted like a tonic. The suggestion of actual aerial speed reasserted itself. There was something indescribably joyous in the sensation. He could almost imagine himself back in his old 'bus circling over the Hun lines.
He missed the airman's flying-helmet, goggles, and leather coat. It was bitterly cold. The wind buffeted his face until his eyes smarted and his ears throbbed and tingled, yet it was better, in his opinion, than being cooped up in a glass box.
Just then the door opened and one of the crew entered. Vainly the man tried to make himself understood, and it was not until the glass slide had been replaced that Derek was able to engage in conversation.
"The actuating wire of the starboard aileron of the lower plane's carried away, sir," reported the man in quite a matter-of-fact tone. A housewife on discovering that a cat had stolen the morning's milk would have shown much more concern. "I'll just nip along and make a temporary repair."
"Very good!" replied Derek, cutting out the automatic control, and grasping the joy-stick. "Carry on!"
The airman withdrew. Presently Derek saw him cautiously making his way along outside the covered fuselage; then, throwing himself flat upon the plane and grasping the forward edge, the man began to work his way outwards. Only his hold upon the sharp edge of the cambered wing prevented him being swept away like a piece of paper by the two-hundred-mile-per-hour wind.
Hanging on like a limpet, and keeping his head well down, the dauntless airman at length reached the spot where the wire had parted—a distance of about six feet from the extremity of the plane. In spite of the man's weight the triplane evinced no tendency to tilt, although it required a slight alteration of helm of the horizontal rudder to counteract the additional resistance set up by his body. In this hazardous position, holding on with one hand, and keeping his legs planted firmly against a vertical strut, the airman set to work to make good the damage.
First the ends of the severed wire had to be secured in a bowline made in each. Through these loops the clips of a bottle-screw were placed, and the wires drawn up to their original tension.
Working at a height of five thousand feet, while travelling at a speed of one hundred and sixty miles an hour—for Derek had ordered the motors to be throttled slightly—the gallant airman completed his task in twenty minutes; then, benumbed with the cold and with lying in a decidedly awkward position, he made his way back to the shelter of the enclosed fuselage.