Thirty-Nine Steps from Baker Street

by J. R. Trtek

  For the first time, I noticed three individuals in the field, running from a small copse of trees that bordered the open space. With our engine stopped and the propeller rotation slowing to a halt, Captain Harper again patted me on the back.

  “Did you enjoy it, sir?” he called out.

  “Very much so!” I exclaimed.

  “Ha! Perhaps we’ll see you take your ticket before long.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “‘Take your ticket,’ Mr. Price: learn to fly and obtain your pilot’s certificate.”

  “Ah, I understand,” I replied. “I must ponder that option for a while, I suppose. However, I cannot wait for the second leg, though I have concerns about the engine.”

  “The start-and-stop? Don’t fret,” the pilot said. “That’s the way we have to run her at the beginning and end. Did you not notice the same when we took off from Hulton?”

  “I most certainly did,” I replied. “And I thank you for your explanation.”

  “You’re more than welcome,” the officer told me as he stood up, clambered over the edge of his cockpit, swung round, and hopped onto the ground. “She’s a fine craft, she is: light and responsive, a joy to fly.” He looked up at me. “I take it you’d like to stretch your legs also while they refuel us?”

  “Yes, if you do not mind.”

  “Not at all,” he replied as the three men approached our craft at a jog: They were, as had been the case in Hulton, two workmen and an officer, and they reached our craft before Captain Harper could assist me down to the ground.

  “Halloa,” said my companion, extending his hand to the officer. “Cecil Harper.”

  “Edward Ashley Tate. And halloa to you, sir,” he added, glancing up at me. From his uniform, I took him to be a captain in the regular army, equal in rank to Harper, but not of the Royal Flying Corps.49

  “Shall we refuel her, sir?” one the workmen said, wiping a hand on his overall.

  “Yes, Cooper,” replied Ashley Tate. “You and Seldon go bring the motor and fill her up.” He turned round to face the aeroplane, once more taking notice of me. “Need a hand down, sir?”

  I accepted the offer, and both captains assisted me from the craft. I found my legs somewhat unsteady after having been folded within the cockpit for some time, and I spent a moment limbering up while the two officers conversed. Then, from the distance, I heard a loud report and, turning round, saw the two mechanics reappear in a small motor-lorry. They drove it to within a few feet of the aeroplane and stopped.

  “The army doesn’t possess that many motors,” said Captain Ashley Tate, “but we have one of them here, I’m proud to say.”

  “They’ll be refuelling her,” Harper said to me. And then, in a lowered voice, he added, “Do you need to relieve yourself, Mr. Price?”

  I smiled gently. “To be honest, Captain, that would do me a heap of good.”

  “Understood, sir. I’ll likely be taking a turn myself before we lift off again. I’m afraid that, out here in the fields as we are, your only choice is there within those trees.” He pointed in the direction of the copse, and I gave a resigned nod.

  “Can you handle the garments adequately on your own, sir?”

  “I believe I can manage, Captain Harper.”

  “Is there a need for paper, sir?”

  “No,” I replied. “None required. I will see you back here presently.”

  I trod across the field as the workmen began to refill the aeroplane’s petrol tank. Feeling myself far from Queen Anne Street, I let my thoughts carry me back to Afghanistan. Any inconvenience I was about to suffer, I realised, would be minor compared to those I had experienced during the retreat from Maiwand decades ago. I overcame what obstacles I encountered among the trees and, within a few minutes, in finer fettle than before, returned to the company of the two captains and the mechanics, who were finishing their task.50

  The officers, who stood smoking some distance from the aeroplane, looked up at me as I approached. “Feeling better, sir?” shouted Harper.

  “Yes,” I said, putting on my gloves again. I stood in the morning air and stared at our craft. “All is well with the machine?”

  “She checks out fine,” replied my pilot. “The captain’s men aren’t flight mechanics, but they know how to load petrol well enough. I gave her a quick going over, and I think we’re still in business.” He dropped his cigarette and stamped it out in the moist grass. “Well, I think I will step over and have a go myself. By the time I return, I believe we may be able proceed with our journey. And oh,” he said to the other officer, “I just remembered—it was Teddy Morrison who was stationed at Farnborough.”

  “Yes, of course,” replied Ashley Tate. “Damn, I just could not recall his name.”

  “Well,” said Harper as he strode toward the copse, “Teddy himself is rather forgettable, isn’t he?”

  Ashley Tate raised his cigarette in agreement and then turned toward me. “Good flight up here, sir?”

  “Yes, very enjoyable.”

  The officer watched Harper retreat into the woods. “Never been up in one of these aeroplanes yet,” he said. “Maybe that will change someday.” He tossed his cigarette away and began to walk back toward the craft. “I don’t know what mission you’re on for the higher-ups, Mr. Price,” he said as I followed him, “and I’m not angling to find out, but I’ll tell you this: I received orders early this morning, in no uncertain terms, to expedite your journey without fail. I hope we’ve accommodated your needs.” He pulled out a watch. “As Captain Harper mentioned, our men are not flight mechanics, but they do the best they can.”

  “I’m sure the captain will have no complaint,” I told him.

  Ashley Tate smiled. “And in the meanwhile, we—those two workmen and I—are to wait here every day for you to return,” he said. “Up to a fortnight, at least.”

  “I must apologise for the inconvenience,” I said.

  The officer chuckled. “All in the line of duty, sir. From near dawn to dusk, whenever you choose to return, we will be here with more fuel. Are you experienced at this flying business, if I may ask?”

  “I must confess that I’m no expert on aeroplanes. This is my first flight.”

  Ashley Tate clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. “Not your first journey through the Midlands, though, perhaps?”

  “Oh no, I am quite familiar with the area. Birmingham in particular,” I added, looking off toward the direction in which the city itself lay. Idly, I began to silently recall, among others, the affair involving Hall Pycroft,51 until one of the mechanics called to his captain and disturbed my reverie.

  “She’s full up, sir!” the man declared.

  “That’s good, Seldon,” replied Ashley Tate, who then turned round toward the copse to catch a glimpse of his fellow officer. Harper was still shrouded within the trees, however, and so all four of us stood quietly for a moment, waiting for the pilot to return. Presently, he emerged from the foliage and rapidly approached us.

  “All set, then?” Captain Harper asked.

  The mechanics both nodded, and the other officer said, “I believe you’re ready to take to the skies again.” He extended his arm. “Good luck to you both.”

  “Thanks much,” said my pilot, shaking other officer’s hand. With a smile, he added, “Stick around for a bit, if you will. We’ll give you a jolly farewell from above, eh?”

  Ashley Tate smiled and nodded before offering me a handshake as well, a gesture I readily accepted, and then Harper instructed the mechanics on how the aeroplane’s engine should be prepared using a syringe we carried with us. He also carefully explained the procedure for starting the motor, making clear that one man should be ready to pull the other away from the propeller once the motor was engaged.

  Captain Ashley Tate and his crew had brought with them large wooden blocks which were set as chocks once the craft was turned and positioned for launch. I was assisted into my seat once more, and Harper advised me to hold on tightly th
is time as he assumed his position as well.

  With Ashley Tate grasping the rear of the aeroplane as instructed, the engine was finally coaxed into action and, cheered by the three who would remain on earth, we rolled across the Midlands field and once more lifted skyward, finding our way above the treetops, over which we made a grand circle while gaining much altitude.

  Then, from that airy mount, Captain Harper turned the aeroplane nose down, and we sped toward the ground, faster and faster. The framework began to vibrate wildly, and I could hear the craft scream, when suddenly the horizon vanished and all was sky. My mind filled with sensation only, crowding out the ability of words to express fear, and then the ground appeared again, only now above my head. As earth rotated before my eyes upon that unnatural axis, I suddenly understood we were in a vertical loop, and as my stomach once more settled into its proper place, I saw terra firma also restored to its customary position.

  Now on an even keel, we circled lower, and I saw three small figures waving and jumping in the midst of the field we had just departed, and I along with Harper waved in reply. Our wings tipped slightly and then came back level, and after feeling a pat on my back and replying with a vigorous upward display of my thumb, I felt us turn once more to continue our wending path toward Scotland.

  We traced a route parallel to the major roads heading north, passing over what I took to be Stafford and Stoke-on-Trent. At first it appeared as if we would split the difference between Liverpool and Manchester, but gradually we veered more in the direction of the latter, and at length, Harper set us down in a field that was near a town he indicated was Stockport.

  “Did you fancy the loop?” he asked as he once more assisted me from the aeroplane.

  “I fancied it and then some,” I assured him. “It was most thrilling!”

  “It’s not difficult to do,” the young man informed me. “One simply needs to make certain to start out with a speed of over a hundred. If you don’t have enough in the beginning, you’ll not have enough to make it over and wind up hanging there, upside down, and end it all by chasing your tail.”

  “‘Chasing your tail’?”

  “Getting into a spin,” Harper explained. “Aside from catching fire while in the air, it’s perhaps the worst experience one can have up there,” he said as we saw a horse-drawn lorry approach. “Spins tend to be fatal.”

  “Have you ever experienced either?”

  “Fire or spin?” The officer smiled at me. “Not yet,” he replied, stepping over to the wooden propeller to rap it with the knuckles of one hand.

  The lorry stopped several feet from our craft, and three men debarked. They identified themselves as a Mr. Jenkins and his sons Alfred and Thomas. With hardly any other words exchanged, the three fuelled our aeroplane with petrol carried in their vehicle, giving demonstration that they had performed such duties many times before. They then moved our craft into position for take-off without any instruction, setting their own pair of chocks in front of the wheels.

  Captain Harper took the taciturn manner of the strangers in stride, and I for my part did not openly display any curiosity about the trio. I saw that, whoever these men were, they were well versed in starting up the aeroplane’s engine and equipped to do so—complete with their own syringe and container of oil. With an absence of ceremony, our re-ascent into the air was accomplished most efficiently.

  By now I had become somewhat accustomed to treading the sky, and removed from Captain Harper by the noise of the engine, as well as our seating arrangement, I found myself once more alone with my thoughts. My recollection near Birmingham of the case involving Hall Pycroft had brought to mind, in turn, other adventures experienced in the company of Sherlock Holmes—who, I suddenly comprehended, had largely been far from my mind since leaving Hulton.

  Conveyed by Captain Harper, finding myself in the midst of an uncertain trip north in search of Richard Hannay, I realised that I had been thinking of myself more as Sir Walter Bullivant’s instrument than the venerable assistant of a famous detective. Indeed, many of the cases I had shared with my friend now seemed to pale in comparison with our current exploit, a mission upon which the British nation’s own safety might depend.

  As Captain Harper guided the aeroplane over the Lake District, I espied the area of Fell Foot and thought to myself how quaint even the gruesome business Holmes and I had faced there now appeared in contrast.52

  As we caught sight of the Solway Firth,53 I began to grow more anxious, for I realised that my air journey was drawing to a close, to be followed by the start of the real challenge facing me: finding Richard Hannay.

  Captain Harper brought our aeroplane down lower, and we crossed the few miles of open water. Scotland’s coastline was ahead, I knew, and from my past visits to the area for the purposes of fly fishing, I recognised before us the mouth of the River Nith.

  Harper, no doubt, was also aware of the local geography, for he flew upstream along the course of the waters, which would lead to Dumfries, our destination. After several miles, it was apparent that the pilot was aiming for an open field just off what I recalled was the Abbey Road, south of town.

  Our landing was much smoother, by comparison, than those we had experienced near Birmingham and Manchester. By now I had become accustomed to the engine’s intermittent functioning while taking off and landing, and Harper skilfully guided the craft to a halt within a short distance of the road.

  “Welcome to Scotland, Mr. Price,” he said as the propeller stopped circling and he pulled up his goggles. “That was a bit more than a bonny wee jog, wasn’t it?”

  “A bit more indeed, Captain.”

  The two of us debarked from the craft. Feeling far more confident in myself, I left the aeroplane unassisted in this instance, after handing Harper my valise. Climbing down, I began to strip off my flight garments to once more reveal my tweeds, and from the bag I retrieved the cloth cap I had stashed within.

  “You’re the picture of a country gentleman now, sir,” the captain remarked as he gathered my flying clothes and placed them in the cockpit where I had sat. He looked round. “Is anyone coming to meet you?”

  “No,” I said circumspectly and then, thinking of the great service this young man had done without full knowledge of its circumstances, I stepped toward him, my hand outstretched, and declared, “Words cannot express my gratitude, Captain.”

  He smiled, and we shook hands most heartily.

  “I confess I feel so remiss,” I added. “I have quite forgotten your given name.”

  “Cecil,” he said with a modest smile. “Cecil Wallace Harper. And you are more than welcome for the service, Mr. Price. That is, Mister…?”

  “James Price,” I responded without hesitation—and not without guilt at the deception. Nonetheless, I was more than honest when I said, “I shall not forget you, Captain Harper.”

  “Nor I you, sir. For a first-time passenger—of your age, if I may say—you withstood the hardships magnificently. I shall be proud to share the clouds with you any time, Mr. Price.”

  “And I will never refuse your company, Captain, up there or here on the ground. But I have not asked what happens to you now? Your Major Reardon told me to inform you when you and your craft would no longer be needed, but until that time, what will you do, stranded as you are?”

  “It’ll be the camping life for me, Mr. Price. Simply put, I’ll stay pat. I’ve done it many times before, sir, so don’t waste a moment in worry. I will be fine.”

  “But you will need to eat.”

  “I have an allowance of coin and can venture into the town for food.”

  “But who is to protect your aeroplane?”

  Harper shrugged. “I reckon I’ll attract a small band of local boys at the least. I’m sure they’ll not resist the offer of serving as guards for her, particularly if I give them some of that coin I mentioned. There’s no need to fret about either me or the plane, I assure you.”

  “Very well.”

  I was rea
dy to bid the pilot farewell, but as I looked at him cheerfully setting up camp beside his craft, I could not help but try to purge myself of the aura of dishonesty I felt I had attached to myself.

  “Captain Harper,” I began, “you are showing great fortitude in doing me the service you do, and perhaps I should explain why—”

  “You needn’t,” he told me. “If I were meant to know your business here, Major Reardon would have informed me of it. What you call fortitude,” he added gently, “is merely discipline. There is no reason to apologise to me, nor any obligation to explain yourself. I have my duty, and you have yours. No more elaboration is needed, sir.”

  I nodded, accepting the wisdom of the young man’s words.

  “Except to bid you farewell, Captain,” I said. “For now.”

  “Yes, sir,” he agreed, giving me a friendly, offhand salute. “Godspeed to you, Mr. Price.”

  Smiling in my civilian garb, I offered him the same military gesture, only with the snap I had shown during the Afghan War.

  “My,” said the captain, evidently impressed. “You must be true army, then.”

  “Assistant surgeon, 5th Northumberland Fusiliers,” I replied briskly. “Subsequently seconded to the Berkshire Regiment of Foot.”

  Cecil Harper gave me one more salute, this time as sharp as mine and then some.

  “Carry on then, Doctor,” he said with a chuckle.

  I nodded and then turned to make my way up the road toward Dumfries with a bittersweet feeling, realising that this earnest young man, who knew me as Mr. Price, had at last, unknowingly, addressed me correctly.

  It was a walk of about three miles into town following the Abbey Road, which paralleled the river. The day was clear, and I thought I heard curlews and plovers crying, though it was only later on my hike that I saw some few of the latter in flight. I passed several people going the other way, all in carts or on bicycle, and was overtaken more than once by riders heading for Dumfries. At one point, I encountered two men on foot like myself, a pair who hailed me in friendly fashion from the other side of the road as they approached. They studied me with interest, and I was certain that, like others who had seen me, they found it odd for a gentleman in fresh tweeds and carrying a valise to be tramping into town from this direction.