you’re right, Scott,” he said slowly. “I believe that’s the only thing to do. Who would you send?”
“I should send Honey.”
“You have sufficient confidence in Honey, Scott?”
I said, “I have, sir. I’m beginning to get quite a respect for Mr. Honey. I’m beginning to think he’s right in this thing, and he’s certainly the man in the Establishment who knows most about fatigue.”
“Yes, he is that.” He turned over the pages of the report, thoughtfully. “This place where the accident is located—I understand it’s eleven miles from a lake where you can land a seaplane? That’s a journey of eleven miles through the Canadian woods?”
“I think so.”
“I’m not so sure that Honey is the right man for that sort of assignment, Scott. He isn’t what I should describe as an outdoor type.” He paused. “You wouldn’t rather go yourself?”
I hesitated in my turn. I would have given my eyes to go off on a trip like that and it would have been a very welcome change from my office routine. But whoever went would have to go at once. “I’d go like a shot, sir,” I said. “But I’ve got this paper to read on Thursday of next week, the one on the performance of high Mach numbers. Of course, I could cancel it.”
He said, “I had forgotten that.” He shook his head. “You’ll have to stay for that—after all, the Royal Aeronautical Society is an important body; you can’t treat them like that. No, it will have to be Honey. You really think he will get on all right upon a trip like this?”
“I’m sure he will, sir,” I replied. “Technically, he’s certainly the best man we’ve got to send. And as regards the physical aspects of the journey, we can warn Ottawa that we’re sending over somebody who isn’t very fit. They’ll make things easy for him, and push him through all right.”
We stood in silence for a minute; evidently he didn’t like it much. “I only wish he had a better presence,” the Director said at last. And then he straightened up. “All right, Scott, I’ll tell Ferguson what we’ve decided, and I’ll get on to the Secretariat about the air passage. You’d like him to fly out at once?”
“Immediately, sir. I don’t think we can afford to waste a day.”
I went up to my office and sent for Mr. Honey. He came in blinking through his thick spectacles; his hair was untidy, his collar was dirty, and there was a smear of what I judged to be an egg upon the front of his waistcoat. He looked even more of a mess than usual. It was certainly a problem how to clean him up without hurting his feelings and making him bloody-minded, to make him look a little more presentable before I pushed him off to Ottawa.
I told him what had happened in London and I showed him the report of the accident. He did not seem to be very interested in the factual circumstances of the crash, but tie seized on the photographs and looked for a long time at the stump of the tailplane front spar. “It has all the appearance of a fatigue fracture,” he said at last. “Look. There’s no crumpling or elongation of the metal there. There’s practically no distortion of the flange at all, right up to the point of fracture. That’s not natural. That’s a short fracture, that’s what that is. The metal must have been terribly crystalline to break off short like that.”
I could see what he meant, though the detail was very tiny in the photograph. It was one more thing.
I told him that we had decided that an officer should fly to Ottawa at once, and that we were arranging for a seaplane or amphibian to take a party up to Small Pine Water immediately for a further technical examination of the wreckage. “I want you to go and do that, Honey,” I said. “I don’t know anybody who could do it better.”
He stared at me. “You mean—that I should go to Canada?”
“That’s right,” I said. “I want you to go at once, starting the day after tomorrow. It really is most urgent
“I should send Honey.”
“You have sufficient confidence in Honey, Scott?”
I said, “I have, sir. I’m beginning to get quite a respect for Mr. Honey. I’m beginning to think he’s right in this thing, and he’s certainly the man in the Establishment who knows most about fatigue.”
“Yes, he is that.” He turned over the pages of the report, thoughtfully. “This place where the accident is located—I understand it’s eleven miles from a lake where you can land a seaplane? That’s a journey of eleven miles through the Canadian woods?”
“I think so.”
“I’m not so sure that Honey is the right man for that sort of assignment, Scott. He isn’t what I should describe as an outdoor type.” He paused. “You wouldn’t rather go yourself?”
I hesitated in my turn. I would have given my eyes to go off on a trip like that and it would have been a very welcome change from my office routine. But whoever went would have to go at once. “I’d go like a shot, sir,” I said. “But I’ve got this paper to read on Thursday of next week, the one on the performance of high Mach numbers. Of course, I could cancel it.”
He said, “I had forgotten that.” He shook his head. “You’ll have to stay for that—after all, the Royal Aeronautical Society is an important body; you can’t treat them like that. No, it will have to be Honey. You really think he will get on all right upon a trip like this?”
“I’m sure he will, sir,” I replied. “Technically, he’s certainly the best man we’ve got to send. And as regards the physical aspects of the journey, we can warn Ottawa that we’re sending over somebody who isn’t very fit. They’ll make things easy for him, and push him through all right.”
We stood in silence for a minute; evidently he didn’t like it much. “I only wish he had a better presence,” the Director said at last. And then he straightened up. “All right, Scott, I’ll tell Ferguson what we’ve decided, and I’ll get on to the Secretariat about the air passage. You’d like him to fly out at once?”
“Immediately, sir. I don’t think we can afford to waste a day.”
I went up to my office and sent for Mr. Honey. He came in blinking through his thick spectacles; his hair was untidy, his collar was dirty, and there was a smear of what I judged to be an egg upon the front of his waistcoat. He looked even more of a mess than usual. It was certainly a problem how to clean him up without hurting his feelings and making him bloody-minded, to make him look a little more presentable before I pushed him off to Ottawa.
I told him what had happened in London and I showed him the report of the accident. He did not seem to be very interested in the factual circumstances of the crash, but tie seized on the photographs and looked for a long time at the stump of the tailplane front spar. “It has all the appearance of a fatigue fracture,” he said at last. “Look. There’s no crumpling or elongation of the metal there. There’s practically no distortion of the flange at all, right up to the point of fracture. That’s not natural. That’s a short fracture, that’s what that is. The metal must have been terribly crystalline to break off short like that.”
I could see what he meant, though the detail was very tiny in the photograph. It was one more thing.
I told him that we had decided that an officer should fly to Ottawa at once, and that we were arranging for a seaplane or amphibian to take a party up to Small Pine Water immediately for a further technical examination of the wreckage. “I want you to go and do that, Honey,” I said. “I don’t know anybody who could do it better.”
He stared at me. “You mean—that I should go to Canada?”
“That’s right,” I said. “I want you to go at once, starting the day after tomorrow. It really is most urgent
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