Alec’s dark eyebrows lowered forbiddingly. “Not on a crazy wild-goose chase with gunfire possible.”
Daisy didn’t bother to argue. She was not going to be left behind. She hurried after Sir Roland, who, as soon as Alec agreed to pursue Pitt, had loped towards the group by the farmhouse, calling out instructions and requests.
As she followed him into the building—it had a sign over the door saying HAZELHURST FIELD—someone thrust a leather flying suit into her arms and pointed her towards a door at the rear of the big front room. Finding herself in a sort of scullery turned into an office, she scrutinized the outfit. Though it was several sizes too large for her, she decided reluctantly that she couldn’t stuff her skirt inside. Her petticoat would fit, and might help to keep her warm even if it made her bulge around the bottom, and her jacket and blouse could stay on under the top. She started to undo buttons, fingers fumbling in her haste. She wasnotgoing to be left behind.
A plump girl bounced in, carrying a pair of trousers and a pair of smart leather boots. “Hi, I’m Leora. I do the record keeping around here. Jake—he’s one of the mechanics and on the small side for a guy—he says you can borrow his pants and he’ll go home in his overalls. You’ll need something under that suit. And I brought you my boots.”
“Gosh, thanks, Miss … Leora.”
“I guess they’ll about fit you. Your feet’ll freeze if you go up in those shoes, but I’d kinda like them back sometime if you can. Here, lemme give you a hand. You don’t hafta wear that helmet in the cabin, but you may want it whenit gets cold. And take your coat to tuck around your knees. It won’t go on over these.”
As Leora efficiently inserted her into the flying suit, Daisy heard Alec in the next room dictating telegrams. Still speaking as he tied his bootlaces after changing, he didn’t see her when she and Leora entered. She was careful to keep out of his sight.
Lambert, shaking too much to dress himself, was being stuffed into his borrowed kit. He ventured a last feeble protest: “But Rosenblatt said not to leave New York!” No one took any notice.
One of Sir Roland’s flying colleagues came in through another door, his arms full of paper bags, boxes, and other small containers. “Anyone else have a lunch pail or Thermos flask to donate to the cause? O.K., I’ll take these out to the plane.”
Daisy sneaked out with him. She helped him store the supplies in the cockpit and minuscule cabin of the biplane, and he helped her squeeze into one of the seats and fasten the safety belt. A short man in greasy dungarees gave her a grin and a thumbs-up. Lambert was marched out by two more men and inserted beside her, moaning quietly. One of them handed Daisy a couple of folded paper bags.
“In case of airsickness,” he said.
“I don’t get seasick,” Daisy said hopefully.
Hooking a wordless thumb at Lambert, he lowered the wood-framed canvas roof over the passenger compartment.
Sir Roland was already in the open cockpit, going over a checklist with a second mechanic. Alec came out of the house and strode across the tarmac, looking frightfully romantic in the flying suit, a green silk scarf around his neck and goggles perched on top of his helmet. Glancingaround, he saw Daisy’s face as she peered at him through the celluloid side panel of the cabin.
He scowled, eyebrows meeting, then raised brows and eyes to heaven, shrugged, and scrambled up into the cockpit with Sir Roland.
He strapped his safety belt and helmet, lowered his goggles over his eyes, and pulled on his gauntlets. “Right-oh, Dipper, take her up.”
“Good-bye!”
“Good luck!”
“Go get ’em!”
Through streaky glass, Daisy saw one propeller begin to turn, and then another. The muted hum of the engines rose to a rumble, and the aeroplane began to taxi.
She was actually going up in an aeroplane!
Beside her, Lambert huddled with his eyes shut and his hands over his ears. For a moment, Daisy was tempted to follow his craven example. Curiosity saved her from the ignominy. What a subject for an article!
They bumped across the grass and turned into the wind. The rumble became a deafening roar as they picked up speed. Daisy saw Dipper press the stick forward, and the tail rose so that she was sitting upright instead of leaning back. With the skid off the ground, the joggling lessened. Faster and faster they raced across the airfield.
Then Dipper eased the stick back. Daisy’s stomach lurched as the hard vibration of wheels on earth suddenly ended. They were airborne.
Lambert clutched his mouth and middle and began to sweat.
Handing him a paper bag, Daisy turned away, giving all her attention to the blurred view beyond the celluloid. Enginebellowing with effort, the biplane swung upward in a wide spiral. The ground tilted below.
Proud of hersang froid, Daisy gazed down. The white farmhouse, the group of people still standing on the tarmac watching, the motionless planes, the hangars, the field, trees and bushes, all grew smaller beneath her. Long Island spread out, its greenness seamed with roads and streams, patched with leafless woodland and villages.
The aeroplane levelled off. Relaxing, Daisy discovered how tense she had been.
She couldn’t see much out of the window now. The engine noise had lessened slightly with the end of the climb, though it was still a terrific din. Now she could distinguish the sounds of the wind as it whistled through the forest of struts stiffening the wings and twanged the wires. It played the taut canvas of the wings like tympani, half a dozen different booming notes at once. The fabric sides of the cabin flapped in and out, slap, slap, slap, like a housemaid beating a carpet.
Daisy realized, too, that the apparent smoothness of flight was merely in contrast to the jolting acceleration across the grass. A constant vibration set every loose oddment to rattling. She only hoped no vital gadget was going to fall off.
