FROM LOXDOX TO AUSTRALIA BY AEROPLAXE 



269 



fore we started, Bennett and Shiers had 

 given a final look over the engines, which 

 had been running perfectly, and almost 

 the last thing they did before climbing 

 aboard was to inflate the four spare inner 

 tubes of our landing wheels ; they would 

 make first-class life-buoys if we had to 

 come down between Crete and Africa. 



I would have preferred flying at about 

 5,000 feet, but our enemies, the clouds, 

 which ever harassed us, forced us to fly 

 at an altitude of from 1,500 to 2,000 feet 

 above the face of the sea. There was a 

 light, favoring wind, and the going was 

 smooth and even ; but as the land dropped 

 behind, and mile after mile was flown, 

 one began to realize the meaning of the 

 term, "a waste of waters." 



On and on we flew, yet, save for the 

 w T ind of our own passage through the air, 

 could scarcely tell that we were moving; 

 for, unlike the flight across the land and 

 down the seacoast. there was nothing by 

 which to gauge our movement. The 

 cloud roof was dull and uninteresting; 

 the sea-floor gray, desolate, and empty as 

 far as the eye could reach. 



SHIPS OF THE SEA LEFT FAR BEHIND 



My brother took out his case and be- 

 gan writing letters. I studied the charts 

 and the compass and kept the machine on 

 the course. Then, suddenly, a little to 

 the right of the course, appeared a minute 

 object that separated into two as we drew 

 nearer, and finally resolved itself into a 

 pair of vessels linked together with a tow- 

 line. Very tiny they looked down there 

 and very lonely. 



We were heading for Sallum, on the 

 African coast, 250 miles from Crete, as 

 the 'plane flies. I wondered if these ships 

 were making the same port, and how 

 long it would take them to do the journey 

 that we were counting on accomplishing 

 in about four hours ! I felt quite sorry 

 for the poor midgets toiling along with 

 their tow-rope, and speculated on what 

 would happen if a big sea got up. Doubt- 

 less they looked up at us — they must have 

 heard our engines booming — and won- 

 dered, too. Perhaps they envied us our 

 wings ; perhaps they pitied us and con- 

 gratulated themselves on the sound decks 

 beneath their feet. 



Ten minutes and they were far behind 



us ; another ten and they were out of 

 sight ; but they had, without knowing it, 

 cheered us immensely. They proved the 

 only speck of life we saw on all that area 

 of waters. Once more we entered the 

 loneliness of sea and sky, but we had the 

 sense of having passed a definite point, 

 and now we kept a keen lookout for land. 



OX AFRICAN SHORES 



Our first glimpse of Africa was of a 

 barren, desert coast-line, but it was a wel- 

 come sight none the less. On reaching 

 Sallum we turned and flew along the 

 coast as far as Mersa Matruh. The land 

 below was flat and uninteresting desert, 

 with nothing to relieve the monotony. 

 Without landing at Mersa Matruh, we 

 headed direct for Cairo, across the gray- 

 brown sea of sand, passing over Wadi 

 Natrum, which is merely a cluster of 

 straggling palms beside a salt-pan. 



We were not sorry to descry those 

 landmarks of the ages, the Pyramids, 

 and soon we could pick out the minarets 

 and mosques of the Egyptian capital it- 

 self. Now we were winging our way 

 over Old Father Nile and across land- 

 marks that were as familiar to me as the 

 Heliopolis aerodrome itself, to which des- 

 tination I was guiding the Vimy. 



Xo wonder I glanced afTectionately 

 over the silent engines as we came to rest. 

 I felt extremely happy as we sat there a 

 moment or two, waiting for the fellows 

 to come up and welcome us. We had 

 come through from Suda Bay, a distance 

 of 680 miles, in a non-stop flight of seven 

 and a half hours, thus completing the first 

 and worst of the four stages into which 

 I had divided the total journey. 



THE EAST STAGE 



That bit of route from London to 

 Cairo — pioneered in 1917 by my old 

 commanding officer, General Borton — 

 had taken its toll, and I had been more 

 than a little afraid of it on account of 

 the possibility of bad weather and my 

 ignorance of the country and the aero- 

 dromes. And here we were, safe, with 

 our machine as sound as when she started. 



A familiar stage, with all the prospects 

 of fine weather, lay before us. There was 

 some excuse for a flash of thankfulness 

 and exultation. Then the boys were 



