The Land God Gave to Cain by Hammond; Innes Read Free Book Online Page B

“but we don’t cater for passengers.” He gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Toilet’s aft if you want it.” The door of the fuselage slammed shut and he followed his crew for’ard to the flight deck. I was alone then.
    We took off just after seven, and though I had never flown before I could sense what was happening—the sound of the engines being run up one by one on test at the runway-end and then the solid roar of all four together and the drag of the airscrews as we began to move, the dim-lit fuselage rocking and vibrating around me. Suddenly it was quieter and I knew we had left the ground.
    The exhilaration of the take-off gradually faded into the monotony of the flight as we drove smoothly on, hour after hour. I dozed a little and now and then Farrow or one of his crew came aft. Shortly after ten the navigator brought me sandwiches and hot coffee. An hour and a half later we landed at Keflavik in Iceland and I clambered stiffly out, blinking my eyes in the cold sunlight.
    The airport was a featureless expanse, the buildings’ modern utilitarian blocks without character. The whole place had the crisp, cold, lifeless air of outer space. But the cafeteria in the main building yielded eggs and bacon and hot coffee, and the echoing hall was full of transit passengers passing the time by sending postcards and buying Icelandic souvenirs from counters gay with northern colours. We had over an hour there in the warmth whilst the plane was refuelled and a quick check made on one of the engines which was running rough. They found nothing wrong with the engine and by twelve-thirty I was back in the hollow roar of the fuselage and we were taking off on the last lap.
    We flew high to clear a storm belt off the Greenland coast and it was cold. I dozed fitfully, the monotony only broken by an occasional cup of coffee, the lunch pack and brief talks with the crew as they came aft. It was nine-twenty by my watch when the flight engineer finally roused me. “Skipper says if you want to take a look at Labrador from the air you’d better come up for’ard right away. We’ll be landing in fifteen minutes.”
    I followed him through the door to the flight deck. To my surprise it was daylight and, because I could see out, the long, cold hours spent huddled amongst the freight in the fuselage were suddenly forgotten. Not that there was anything to see … just the grey of cloud through the windshield and Farrow’s head outlined against it. The wireless operator gripped my arm as I passed, pulling me down towards him. “I’ve radioed the Tower to have Ledder meet you,” he shouted in my ear. “Okay?”
    â€œThanks.”
    Farrow half turned his head and indicated the flight engineer’s seat beside him. “Going down now.” He jerked his thumb downwards. The engines were already throttled back. “We’ll come out of the cloud at eight thousand.” He tapped the altimeter dial where the pointer was dropping slowly. And he added, “You’ll have plenty of time to talk to Ledder. Another engine check. Port outer packed up a while back.” He nodded towards the left-hand wing-tip where it wavered gently in the turbulent cloud mist. The outboard engine was lifeless, the propeller feathering slowly. “We’ll be there the night. Get away sometime to-morrow—I hope.”
    I wanted to ask him whether we’d get down all right, but nobody seemed worried that we were flying on only three engines and I sat down and said nothing, staring ahead through the windshield, waiting for the moment when I should get my first glimpse of Labrador. And because there was nothing to see, I found myself thinking of my father. Had his flying duties ever taken him to Labrador or was I now doing the thing he’d wanted to do all his life? I was thinking of the books and the map, wondering what it was that had fascinated him about this