Free The Time Pirate by Ted Bell

“what is all this . . . what have you been up to these last few weeks?”
    â€œYou’ve not seen anything yet, Papa!”
    From inside the barn there suddenly came the explosive sound of the big Bentley motor catching and roaring to life. Then, to the absolute amazement of former RFC Captain Angus McIver, an old Sopwith Camel came rolling out of the barn and onto the landing strip. It was, could it possibly be, his own aircraft, looking like the day she’d been delivered to his 106th Squadron in France!
    Marching alongside the gleaming Sopwith were Commander Hobbes and Lord Hawke, two old friends of the McIver family who had organized the morning’s festivities. And bringing up the rear were his lordship’s two children, Annabel and Alexander Hawke, ages five and six.
    â€œMorning!” Hawke said, taking a few steps forward and embracing Nick’s bewildered father, who seemed to be in a state of shock and incapable of speech.
    â€œAh, Angus,” Commander Hobbes said, “lovely day for a Camel ride, is it not?”
    â€œIt simply cannot be,” his father said, staring in disbelief at his old aeroplane, now gleaming like a newborn babe in the brilliant sunshine. And, look, there was old Gunner in the cockpit, smiling broadly at all assembled as the Camel, her engine running in loud fits and starts, rolled out onto the sun-dappled grass of the landing strip.
    Gunner hit the blip and shut the big engine down—otherwise nobody could hear a bloody thing, even the tuba.
    Even Nick was stunned by the Camel’s appearance. Not only had Gunner painted the entire aeroplane beautiful shades of olive, buff, and tan, but he’d also added the colorful red, white, and blue British roulon insignias aft of the wings, towardthe rear of the fuselage. He’d painted the bull’s-eye-like roulons on the upper and lower wings of the biplane and added the distinctive markings of the Black Aces, his father’s old squadron.
    â€œIt simply cannot be,” McIver said, his eyes brimming. “Surely this isn’t my . . . why, I—I never thought I’d lay eyes upon her again.”
    â€œYour Sopwith, Dad. The one you flew home after the war. Isn’t she a beaut?”
    â€œBut . . . how? How did this happen? She must have been a heap of skin and bones after all these years in that moldy old barn.”
    â€œGunner and I have spruced her up a bit, Gunner mostly, to be honest. Along with Commander Hobbes, of course, him being an expert aeronautical engineer and all that. He’s officially certified her airworthy, Dad. You can fly her again, right now, if you’d like. Your leather flying jacket, helmet, and goggles are in a sack under the rear seat of the cart.”
    â€œWhy, I—I hardly know what to say.”
    â€œDon’t say anything, sir,” Gunner said, climbing out of the cockpit and down the set of rolling steps Nick had wheeled up next to the cockpit. “There’s a lot of blue sky up there waiting for you, Cap’n McIver. Been waiting a long time, too, I’ll wager!”
    Kate had fetched her father’s flying gear from the cart and now handed it to him. “I helped Nicky find it, Papa!”
    He kissed the top of her head, “Thank you, darling girl. It’s wonderful.”
    â€œWe topped off the tank, Dad,” Nick said, “She’s ready to fly, if you wish.”
    Angus McIver handed Gunner his walking stick and mounted the steps, staring down in wonder inside the cockpit.
    â€œA new seat!” he exclaimed, laughing now. “What I wouldn’t have given for that back in winter of ’17!”
    â€œAnd a length of strong hemp to tie you in, sir.”
    â€œNow how on earth would an old salt like you know anything about that?” McIver said.
    Gunner smiled. “Pretty much a new everything, sir,” he said, handing up McIver’s flying gear. Angus slipped