The mechanic who had been in the cabin greeted them.
“Funny about that cable,” he stated. “How did it ever get so much use that it wore through? You must kick rudder every two seconds.”
“Was it worn through—or—” Al began. Curt prodded his ribs very sharply. As Al became quiet Curt asked a louder question to distract the man from pursuing that “or—” and learning their fears.
“Or did it break at the rudder bar?” he asked.
“It chafed against the transverse brace it ran under,” the mechanic responded. “They ought to have an eyelet or something for a guide—a small pulley would be best, with an eyelet to keep the cable from slipping out of the groove and chafing on the solid part of the pulley.”
“We’ll report that,” said Curt. “A rudder is pretty important.”
“I’ll say,” replied the mechanic.
The plates had been fastened back into their light frame, being of sturdy construction and not permanently attached, they had come away clean and were put back easily. Only the cracked hole in the panels gave outward evidence of the recent near catastrophe.
“Suppose we let on that was an accident, that I put my foot through the panel,” suggested Curt. “Repairing it only means putting in a new section there—it ought not to cost much and I have some money in my savings account to pay for it.”
“Let’s all put together,” urged Al.