job was at the same time his fascinating hobby. He enjoyed the planning and the travelling and the continual interviews with interesting people. In fact, he was as happy as the day was long.
The second applicant on Stott’s list, Captain Hardwick, had jumped at the chance of taking over the
Hellenic,
and had been duly appointed Master. Unlike Gladstone, he had no scruples about commanding a gambling ship. “I don’t do it myself,” he said; “can’t afford it. And my officers won’t do it, either. I’ll see to that. But the passengers can bankrupt themselves to their hearts’ content for all I care.”
Morrison met him to discuss his report, and liked what he saw of him. In appearance, Hardwick was not unlike Gladstone: the same tall figure and strong face, and with the same air of personality and command. But this man was younger and more approachable. He had been, recently promoted captain of one of the smaller P & O ships, and as his prospects with his own company were good, Morrison wondered why he had applied for the
Hellenic.
However, he had done so, and Morrison was glad he had got her, believing he would prove a pleasant man to work with. His first job had been to take the
Hellenic
round to the Clyde, where her alterations were already in progress.
Bristow, Morrison found, was growing slightly aloof. He was putting in a vast amount of legal work, principally with Meaker. Usually he was too busy to see Morrison when the latter called, and when they did meet he would only discuss details of Morrison’s job. Morrison was disappointed at this want of confidence. However, he reminded himself that the venture was Bristow’s and Stott’s, and that he was lucky to be in it even on these terms.
To his own immense satisfaction, he had solved the problem of transport to and from the ship when she was too far from London to be reached by rail. Stott had vetoed a longer journey than six hours – five in the train and one on a tender, which ruled out everywhere outside England. Morrison had suggested flying boats. Flying boats, he pointed out, could reach in three or four hours the furthest point to which the
Hellenic
would ever penetrate. The morning outward plane could make the return journey in the afternoon. Moreover, such a service would be popular. It would be considered up to date and incidentally would be the best advertisement that could be devised.
Captain Hardwick had next added his quota. He believed that he could design a floating pier which could be lowered from the
Hellenic,
and to which the flying boat could come alongside. This would enable passengers to walk direct from plane to ship, without using a launch.
Only on the question of cost was the flying boat idea doubtful. “It couldn’t be done with Bristow’s original scheme,” Stott declared, “but I think it could with mine. We’ll get out figures and see.”
After a report from his experts, he approved the suggestion. Indeed, he went further, deciding that the boats should be used irrespective of the position of the ship. Every morning, Sundays included, one or more would start from the nearest possible point to London, visit the ship wherever she lay, leave in the afternoon and arrive back at the starting point before dinner time.
After these thrilling experiences there came to Morrison a period of monotony. He and all concerned settled down to work. Time began to slip by. Weeks drew out into months, while the launching of the scheme drew nearer. By January Morrison’s plans and timetables were complete, and arrangements had been made for the hire and staffing of the flying boats. The bogus French company had been formed and had “bought” the
Hellenic.
Details of her French registration and certificate had been fixed up. The alterations to the ship were well in hand and she would shortly be ready for service. A large number of the officers and crew had been engaged, and more were being selected daily. Then towards the middle of