moon’s just coming up.” Charles had watched it rise over the pilot’s left shoulder.
The pilot and the navigator conferred together for a moment. Then the sergeant got up from his folding seat and turned round to Charles. “He’s going to slow her down,” he said. “We’ll open the hatch, and I’ll help you get out on to the wing. Then when it’s time I’ll give you a clap on the back … and just let go.”
The roof hatch dropped down, and the night air blew a keen, cold gale around him. With the assistance of the sergeant he clambered slowly out. The wind tore round him, dragging his legs from the slippery surface of the wing. Far, far below him he could see the dim line of a river and the faint shadow of the woods upon the patterned fields. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he thought: “This is death. I have only a few minutes left to live.”
The sergeant, standing in the hatch helping to support in the violence of the rush of air, shouted with his mouth against his ear: “Just take it easy and count one, two, three after you go. Put your hand upon the ring—that’s right. Wait, now …”
They both stared at the pilot, intent on the instruments. They saw him glance at his watch, and back to the instruments again. Then at his watch.… He turned in his seat and nodded, smiled at Charles, and said something which was never heard. The sergeant shouted in his ear: “Okay, and the best of luck. Off you go.”
Charles felt the grasp upon his arm released and a heavy clump upon his shoulder. He dared not show his fear. He turned his body to face aft and the wind took him; he slipped, lost his hold, and bumped heavily upon the trailing edge. A dark shadow that was the tail-plane swept over him, and then he was head downwards and rotating slowly, seeing only the dim earth below as the wind rose about him, tearing at his clothes. The fear made an acute pain in his throat.
He forced himself to think, and counted slowly. Then desperately, with all his strength, he pulled the ring. It came and something snapped behind his back; he pulled at the wire following the ring with both his hands. For a sickening moment he went on falling; then came a rustling rush and the harness plucked violently at his shoulders, hurting him with the bucklesof the straps. He came erect and saw the sky again; the wind had gone and he was hanging there suspended in the quiet peace of the night. For a few moments he hung limp and shaken, exhausted by his fear.
Presently he regained control of himself, and set to steering the parachute gingerly away from the woods and into open country.
He fell into a pasture field close by a hedge. He fell down heavily on knee, thigh, and shoulder as he had been told to do and got badly shaken up again. The parachute collapsed beside him on the grass. He stayed there for a quarter of an hour, gradually calming down. He was not hurt at all.
Presently he got up, made the parachute and harness into a bundle, and did with it what he had been told to do.
An hour later he walked into his mother’s house, with a story that he had walked from Lyons, having come from Paris by the night express.
* * * * *
He got back to Corbeil after a few days and settled down to work again. Duchene took his absence as a matter of course, and no word of the raid upon Le Tréport seemed to have penetrated to the factory. Charles fell back easily into his humdrum daily round, and for a time everything went on normally.
Three weeks later he appeared one morning in the office of
M. le directeur
, bearing certain test samples of cement, odd-shaped little twin bulbous bricks. “I regret, monsieur,” he said, “that there is trouble with the samples.”
They bent over the fractures; they were granulated and short. “These are the figures,” said the designer. “See for yourself, monsieur.” The failing load of the test-pieces was forty per cent below the specification
The pilot and the navigator conferred together for a moment. Then the sergeant got up from his folding seat and turned round to Charles. “He’s going to slow her down,” he said. “We’ll open the hatch, and I’ll help you get out on to the wing. Then when it’s time I’ll give you a clap on the back … and just let go.”
The roof hatch dropped down, and the night air blew a keen, cold gale around him. With the assistance of the sergeant he clambered slowly out. The wind tore round him, dragging his legs from the slippery surface of the wing. Far, far below him he could see the dim line of a river and the faint shadow of the woods upon the patterned fields. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he thought: “This is death. I have only a few minutes left to live.”
The sergeant, standing in the hatch helping to support in the violence of the rush of air, shouted with his mouth against his ear: “Just take it easy and count one, two, three after you go. Put your hand upon the ring—that’s right. Wait, now …”
They both stared at the pilot, intent on the instruments. They saw him glance at his watch, and back to the instruments again. Then at his watch.… He turned in his seat and nodded, smiled at Charles, and said something which was never heard. The sergeant shouted in his ear: “Okay, and the best of luck. Off you go.”
Charles felt the grasp upon his arm released and a heavy clump upon his shoulder. He dared not show his fear. He turned his body to face aft and the wind took him; he slipped, lost his hold, and bumped heavily upon the trailing edge. A dark shadow that was the tail-plane swept over him, and then he was head downwards and rotating slowly, seeing only the dim earth below as the wind rose about him, tearing at his clothes. The fear made an acute pain in his throat.
He forced himself to think, and counted slowly. Then desperately, with all his strength, he pulled the ring. It came and something snapped behind his back; he pulled at the wire following the ring with both his hands. For a sickening moment he went on falling; then came a rustling rush and the harness plucked violently at his shoulders, hurting him with the bucklesof the straps. He came erect and saw the sky again; the wind had gone and he was hanging there suspended in the quiet peace of the night. For a few moments he hung limp and shaken, exhausted by his fear.
Presently he regained control of himself, and set to steering the parachute gingerly away from the woods and into open country.
He fell into a pasture field close by a hedge. He fell down heavily on knee, thigh, and shoulder as he had been told to do and got badly shaken up again. The parachute collapsed beside him on the grass. He stayed there for a quarter of an hour, gradually calming down. He was not hurt at all.
Presently he got up, made the parachute and harness into a bundle, and did with it what he had been told to do.
An hour later he walked into his mother’s house, with a story that he had walked from Lyons, having come from Paris by the night express.
* * * * *
He got back to Corbeil after a few days and settled down to work again. Duchene took his absence as a matter of course, and no word of the raid upon Le Tréport seemed to have penetrated to the factory. Charles fell back easily into his humdrum daily round, and for a time everything went on normally.
Three weeks later he appeared one morning in the office of
M. le directeur
, bearing certain test samples of cement, odd-shaped little twin bulbous bricks. “I regret, monsieur,” he said, “that there is trouble with the samples.”
They bent over the fractures; they were granulated and short. “These are the figures,” said the designer. “See for yourself, monsieur.” The failing load of the test-pieces was forty per cent below the specification
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