Night Over Water - Ken Follett [68]
The water became choppy as the aircraft moved into the middle of the estuary. Harry was not normally seasick, but he felt distinctly uncomfortable as the Clipper began to ride the waves. The compartment looked like a room in a house, but the motion reminded him that he was sailing in a boat, a fragile craft of thin aluminum.
The plane reached the middle of the estuary, slowed and began to swing around. It rocked with the breeze, and Harry realized it was turning into the wind for takeoff. Then it seemed to pause, hesitating, pitching a little with the wind and rolling with the slight swell, as if it were a monstrous animal sniffing the air with its enormous snout. The suspense was almost too much: it took an effort of will for Harry to restrain himself from leaping out of his seat and yelling to be let off.
Suddenly there was a terrific roar, like a fearsome storm breaking out, as the four huge engines were pushed to full power. Harry let out a cry of shock, but it was drowned out. The aircraft seemed to settle a little in the water, as if it were sinking under the strain; but a moment later it surged forward.
It picked up speed rapidly, like a fast boat, except that no boat this big could accelerate so quickly. White water sped past the windows. The Clipper still pitched and rolled with the movement of the sea. Harry wanted to close his eyes, but he was afraid to. He felt panicky. I’m going to die, he thought hysterically.
The Clipper went faster and faster. Harry had never traveled at such a pace across water: no speedboat could reach this velocity. They were doing fifty, sixty, seventy miles an hour. Spray flew past the window, hazing his view. We’re going to sink, explode or crash, Harry thought.
There was a new vibration, like a car driving over ruts. What was it? Harry felt sure something was terribly wrong, and the plane was about to break up. It occurred to him that the plane had begun to rise, and the vibration was caused by its bumping across the waves like a speedboat. Was that normal?
Suddenly the water seemed to exert less drag. Peering through the spray, Harry saw that the surface of the estuary appeared to have tilted, and he realized that the plane’s nose must be up, although he had not felt the change. He was terrified and wanted to throw up. He swallowed hard.
The vibration changed. Instead of bumping across ruts they seemed to be jumping from wave to wave, like a stone skimming the surface. The engines screamed and the propellers thrashed the air. It might be impossible, Harry thought; maybe such a huge machine could not take to the air after all; perhaps it could only ride the waves like an overweight dolphin. Then, suddenly, he sensed that the plane had been set free. It surged forward and up, and he felt the restraining water fall away underneath him. The view from the window cleared as the spray was left behind, and he saw the water receding below as the plane went up. Gorblimey, we’re flying, he thought; this huge great palace is actually bloody flying!
Now that he was in the air, his fear dropped away and was replaced by a tremendous feeling of exhilaration. It was as if he were personally responsible for the fact that the plane had succeeded in taking off. He wanted to cheer. Looking around, he saw that everyone else was smiling with relief. Becoming conscious of other people again, he realized he was wet with sweat. He took out a white linen handkerchief, surreptitiously wiped his face, and quickly stuffed the damp handkerchief back into his pocket.
The plane continued to rise. Harry saw the south coast of England disappear beneath the stubby lower sea-wings; then he looked ahead and saw the Isle of Wight. After a while the plane leveled out and the roar of the engines was suddenly reduced to a low hum.
Nicky the steward reappeared in his white jacket and black tie. He did not have to raise his voice, now that the engines had been throttled back. He said: “Would you care for a cocktail, Mr. Vandenpost?”
That’s exactly what I would care