Free The Lost Flying Boat by Alan Silltoe Page B

called at the top left-hand corner of the Square of Pegasus?’
    â€˜Alpheratz. Why?’
    â€˜The word came to me in a dream. I knew it was the name of a star, but couldn’t place it till I looked it up.’
    He put the magazine on his knee. ‘Why Alpheratz?’
    â€˜Because that’s what all eight of us are: Alpha Rats – stuck in the front line, and numbered for this stunt of Bennett’s that none of us knows anything about. What are we going to pick up at the Kerguelen Islands? I think you know.’
    He hadn’t navigated for two years but, after giving up his tramp around the country, had a desk job with Little Island Air Lines, until bankruptcy was fended off by amalgamation – and his own redundancy. A navigator has to work every day, otherwise he might lose his way through sight-reduction tables and relinquish that sixth sense by which, on long flights over the sea, he looks at the waves and knows his drift almost by instinct. Bennett must have pondered the issue, but he was God in his flying boat, and all was right in Heaven, so who could tell what he thought?
    â€˜There are nearly five thousand stars in the heavens,’ Rose said, ‘which are visible to the naked eye, so why choose Alpheratz?’
    â€˜Because,’ I said, ‘Alpheratz chose me – and the rest of us.’
    â€˜Not a very bright star,’ he observed. ‘You’re not a particularly bright Sparks, either, if you ask me.’
    â€˜Nash thought it bright enough. We laughed about it last night over a couple of bottles of Alphen Red. He said this trip was a matter of life and death eight times over, and that even if we did find the island, and I suppose we actually might, with a shit-hot navigator like you, the sea’s likely to be so jumped-up there’ll be no hope of landing without getting the whole rig smashed. And if we do land, we might never find whatever it is. And even if we do, who knows whether we’ll be able to refuel, especially if, in the time it’s taken to find what we’re looking for, the weather worsens as it’s likely to do in those latitudes. Because you know as well as I do, Rose, that forecasting is non-existent, as are navigational facilities, and the scarcity of radio stations is positively bloody horrifying. Now I don’t mind all this. It’s insane, I know, but I signed up for a taste of adventure so I’m prepared to have a go and do my bit at the wireless. But I would like to know what I’m risking my neck for.’
    I tried to sound amiable, but he went nonchalantly back to his reading as if I were a rat that had eaten its way out of his Dalton computer with a bit of topographical map in its mouth. I stood so as to see the devastated side of his face, and made sure he knew it. If I had stayed immobile there would have been no bust up. Silence and stillness were good for both, the way things were going. But the contemptuous way he ignored me, and allowed his fingers to search blindly for the top right corner of the magazine before turning the page, enraged me. He was a better actor than a navigator, unless he really had forgotten my existence.
    I snatched the magazine and threw it towards the door: ‘Listen, Scarface, I asked a question. Either answer, or give a fair reason why you can’t.’
    The good part of his face turned white. I had gone too far, but because of his contempt he couldn’t say so. He stood, and picked up the magazine: ‘Last night I dreamed I was pissing blood, but it was sheer happiness compared to dealing with a bod like you. What we’re going to Kerguelen for is no concern of yours. We’re looking for harbours that future cruise ships will be able to anchor in with a fair degree of safety. That’s all I know, and all I want to know. What do you imagine we’re looking for, for Pete’s sake? If we hadn’t had to wait so long you wouldn’t suspect