The Man who Missed the War

by Dennis Wheatley

  On the Tuesday Philip tried to reorient himself. He had not realised before how dependent he had become on the Canon, but it now seemed as if his whole world had fallen to pieces. There were a few young people whom he had known all his life living in the neighbourhood, but he had seen little of them since he had gone up to Cambridge, three years before, and he had made no new friends since coming down. There was no one now to whom he could turn who really talked his language, and no one at all who knew about the rafts and could give him a glimmer of hope that it might yet be possible in some way or other to arrange a trial. As he thought how near he had been to proving the theories in which he had such confidence, he almost choked with rage and frustration.

  On the Wednesday afternoon he went for a long walk, during which he strove to think of new avenues he might explore in the hope of finding backing for his venture. The very fact that the Canon had died seemed to make it more imperative that he should not be let down, and that a way should yet be found; but Philip cudgelled his brain in vain.

  When he reached home Pin roused him from his futile mind-searching by telling him that a Mr. Pickering had rung up to say that he hoped that Philip intended to attend the Canon’s funeral the following day, as he would like to have a talk with him afterwards. Pin had no idea who Mr. Pickering was, and had assumed that he was a friend of Philip’s; but Philip had never heard of him, and was much puzzled as to what the stranger could want.

  Philip and his father attended the funeral together. There were no coaches as the coffin had only to be carried across the road from the Rectory to the church; but the verger told them that seats had been reserved for them in one of the front pews, and this did not strike them as odd in view of the fact that they were relatives of the deceased. However, their connection with him was sufficiently distant for them to be surprised when a dapper, youngish man stepped up to them after the burial and, introducing himself as Mr. Pickering, the Canon’s lawyer, asked them to accompany him back to the Rectory.

  A few other people had already congregated in the big book-lined room Philip knew so well: two old spinster cousins of the Canon, his doctor and another elderly man, both of whom proved to be executors of the will, his housekeeper and the other servants. Mr. Pickering announced that, up to a short time ago, certain well-selected charities would have materially benefited by his deceased client’s demise; but just before Christmas he had instructed his solicitors to draw him a new will under which, while the original legacies to individuals remained unaltered, the bulk of his estate now went to his second cousin, Mr. Philip Vaudell.

  After the list of legacies had been read out, Philip and his father had a short talk with Mr. Pickering from which it transpired that, by wise investment, the Canon had materially increased the patrimony left him by his mother; so that, even when all the legacies and duties had been paid, Philip would come into not less than £20,000 and, in addition, all the Canon’s furniture, silver, objets d’art and books, which, if sold, would realise several thousands more.

  As they drove back from Gosport along the Alverstoke road, Captain Vaudell said: ‘Now that you have come into this money I suppose you mean to go on with your enterprise?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Philip quietly. ‘He didn’t leave it to me for that purpose, as at Christmas-time we still had hopes of raising a much bigger sum in the City. But I think he’d expect me to carry on now; and, to tell the truth, I’ve done little for the past three days except cudgel my wits as to how I could possibly get hold of the money.’

  ‘In that case I won’t make any further attempt to dissuade you. It seems a pity to—er—unload this nice little fortune when you’ve just come into it. Twenty thousand pounds doesn’t often come one’s way; and I don’t mind telling you that these days it’s devilish hard to build up a nest-egg of even one-tenth of that sum. Still, it’s your money, and if you’re determined to use it on your rafts at least one must give you credit for your patriotic motives.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. Thanks too for being so decent about the Canon, and everything, these last few days.’

  They left it at that, and six weeks later Philip, having with the help of Mr. Pickering formed a company called Raft Convoys Ltd., landed in New York.

  He arrived there with only one personal introduction. It was to a friend of his father’s, a Commander Foorde-Bilson of the United States Navy, whose home was in Belleville, a pleasant city suburb to the north of Newark, on the other side of the Hudson River, about twelve miles from Central New York. It so happened that the Commander was absent on the Pacific Station that summer, but his mother and two young sisters, Jean and Lexie, made Philip welcome and extended to him that boundless hospitality which is such an outstanding feature of the American character.

  They immediately proposed that he should be their house-guest for as long as he liked; but, knowing that he would have to be in New York for at least two months, he felt that he could not possibly accept, and excused himself on the grounds that his business necessitated his living nearer the shipping quarter of Manhattan. They laughed and said that he would regret it during the great heats of the summer but that he could always change his mind; and, in the meantime, they moved him to another hotel which was not only more comfortable but considerably cheaper. Mrs. Foorde-Bilson insisted that until he found other things to do he must always spend his week-ends with them, and the Foorde-Bilson sisters took him out evenings on a round of parties.

  The new and colourful life into which he now entered, where the hustling, crowded streets of daytime gave place each evening to dashes in fast cars to country clubs, and midnight bathing parties in private gardens, was a great change from the placid existence he had led at Gosport. A little shy at first, he soon got used to the spontaneous friendship shown him on every side as a protégé of the Foorde-Bilson family, and began to enjoy himself thoroughly; but he did not allow his new social life to interfere with his purpose in coming to America. Soon after his arrival there the ‘Pact of Steel’ had been entered into by the Berlin-Rome Axis, and for those who had eyes to see there were plenty of indications that Hitler now had the bit between his teeth.

  Philip soon discovered that, for the smaller size and number of rafts that his revised scheme required, it would be more economical to place the whole contract in the hands of a New York builder than to float great rafts of lumber all the way down the coast from the mouth of the Saint Lawrence. Having put the contract out to tender with a number of firms, he closed with one that undertook to deliver the whole string, complete with cargo containers, sails, beacons and cables ready for sea, by July the 20th. It irked him that the earlier part of the year had slipped away without his being able to make any of these physical preparations, as he would have preferred to attempt his first crossing in June; but he consoled himself with the thought that, even if he could not get off till the beginning of August, he should still have at least eight weeks of good weather ahead, and with the aid of the sails he hoped to accomplish the voyage in something less than that.

  His next concern was the purchase of a suitable sea-going motor launch and, having examined a number, he settled on a broad-beamed forty-footer with sleeping berths for six and diesel engines. On delivery it was brought across the Hudson to the New Jersey bank so that he could give Jean and Lexie and their friends evening picnics up-river or downstream past Ellis Island in it; and he spent many hours taking the engines down and going over every part of them with meticulous care so that there should be no likelihood of one of them breaking down once he was out in the open ocean.

  On one of the rafts he intended to ship the most miscellaneous selection of cargo he could find, in order to test the effects of a voyage of six weeks to two months by raft on as great a variety of goods as possible. But he was also anxious to obtain cargo for the other nine rafts, if only he could persuade some firm to trust him with it, as he felt that for all ten to make the voyage fully loaded would provide a much more telling trial than if nine out of the ten had to go over in b
allast. Accordingly, he inserted an advertisement in a New York shipping paper offering cut rates for cargoes to any port in Great Britain, to be shipped by escorted raft, period of voyage six weeks to three months.

  The immediate result was a visit from a reporter, one Jeff O’Dowd, who worked on the shipping paper to which the advertisement had been sent.

  ‘What’s the big idea?’ Jeff wanted to know. ‘What’s all this about escorting rafts to Europe?’

  Philip had not bargained for his idea being given to the world through the Press, but he was quick to realise that, as he could not prevent them from printing anything they chose, the wisest course would be to give the rakish-looking Mr. O’Dowd a correct account of his intentions.

  Having adjourned to a nearby drug-store, where Philip partook of a pineapple sundae and Mr. O’Dowd indulged in a somewhat more sustaining refreshment, they discussed the matter for half an hour before parting with mutual satisfaction. Jeff had his story, and Philip had succeeded in steering clear of any inference that this new commercial venture of his was actually being undertaken with the hope of being able in time of war to save his country from starvation.

  The next issue of Jeff’s paper carried a three-column headline on its main page, running: ‘ENGLISHMAN TO HARNESS GULF STREAM’; and Philip read the article below with considerable satisfaction, since he felt that, while his small ‘ad’ might have passed unnoticed by many readers, few people could remain ignorant of the new cheap cargo service he was offering after the appearance of the main page splash.

  The same afternoon he received a telephone call from a Mr. Eric Eiderman, which resulted in his making an appointment to call at Mr. Eiderman’s down-town office the following morning.

  When he arrived he was shown in straight away, and a tall, thin, fair-haired man, who was seated behind a handsome desk, stood up to greet him.

  ‘Glad to know you, Mr. Vaudell. Sit right down and tell me all about this new idea of yours.’

  Philip gave him a friendly smile. ‘When we spoke on the telephone I gathered that you’d read O’Dowd’s article, so there doesn’t seem much more to tell. My first convoy will consist of ten rafts, each of which will carry approximately three hundred tons of cargo and I propose to sail early in August. For my second trip I hope to have rafts four times that size and many more of them; and I should be happy to give anyone who takes space in the first convoy refusal of similar space in the second at the same rates, although to other people they will be considerably higher.’

  ‘If there ever is a second convoy,’ Mr. Eiderman remarked with a flash of even teeth. ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, Mr. Vaudell, you’re a much younger man than I expected. Well, I’ve got nothing against youth, but you won’t mind my asking about the folks who sent you over here. Would any of your principals be directors of other shipping companies?’

  It was a nasty one but Philip faced it squarely. ‘No, this is an entirely independent venture. My only partner died a few months ago, and I formed a small company, which I’ve called Raft Convoys Limited, out of the bulk of the money he left me.’

  ‘Indeed. Then you are quite alone. How interesting! But, as no one has ever done what you propose to do before, how about insurance? No firm would be prepared to take such a risk unless the goods were fully covered.’

  ‘I quite appreciate that and I got a quotation from Lloyd’s before I left London. Naturally, it is prohibitive, but once a Raft Convoy has crossed the Atlantic successfully it will come down to quite a reasonable price. In the meantime, for this first trip I do not intend to accept any but the least valuable types of cargo, as I should then be able to pay the premium on them myself and thus cover the owners against loss.’

  ‘I get you, Mr. Vaudell. You’re prepared to make a loss on your first trip and count that as part of your initial expenses. I’ll say that’s a sound decision, although insurance money doesn’t compensate for annoyance to customers through loss of goods, you know. However, maybe we could do business on the lines you mention. As you may have gathered, we’re General Merchants. Most of our trade is with Norway, and the firm owns three lines that run under the Norwegian flag. Still, that’s neither here nor there. My job is to ship goods to Europe the cheapest way, and your scheme certainly opens up mighty big possibilities. If I help you to get going, what would you say to giving me an option on a percentage of your cargo space in all your future convoys at a rate to be fixed now?’

  ‘I’d have to consider that,’ Philip hedged. He felt that Mr. Eiderman’s inquiry was only the first of many which might result from Jeff O’Dowd’s article, and he did not want to sell too much space in advance at a cut rate.

  ‘Well, what about lunching with me tomorrow? You could think it over in the meantime and let me know then.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you but I’m booked up tomorrow,’ Philip lied, wishing to gain more time for other inquiries that might come in.

  Eiderman consulted a little book. ‘How about next Thursday?’

  ‘That would be fine,’ Philip agreed.

  ‘O.K. then. Call for me here round one o’clock and we’ll feed at the Norwegian Club. Meantime, I’ll go into the question of what bulk cargoes we’ll be having for delivery in Europe this fall. I’m certainly glad to have met you, Mr. Vaudell. Yours is a very interesting proposition.’ The tall, lean, Nordic-looking American stood up, flashed his white teeth again, shook hands with Philip and pressed a buzzer for him to be shown out.

  Philip’s expectations regarding numerous other inquiries were not fulfilled. To his surprise and disappointment not even the suggestion of another inquiry reached him between his visit to Mr. Eiderman and the morning of their luncheon appointment, but by then Philip had persuaded himself that, to begin with at least, there might be considerable advantages in dealing with one firm only.

  At the office Eiderman introduced him to a fat man with thick spectacles and hair cut en brosse, named Thorssen, and the three of them repaired to the Norwegian Club, where they ate an excellent lunch.

  Unlike Eiderman, who had hardly a trace of foreign accent, Thorssen spoke in a thick, guttural voice, and it soon transpired that he was still a Norwegian citizen, whereas Eiderman had lived nearly all his life in the States and had become a naturalised American many years ago. The pair proved good hosts, and by the time the party had finished with the innumerable tempting hors d’œuvres offered on the huge smörgasbord, Philip was already on excellent terms with them both.

  After lunch, over coffee in the smoking-room, Eiderman produced a list of possible cargoes which would not carry a high insurance rate, and a draft contract between his firm and Raft Convoys Ltd. They haggled a little about terms but Philip did so only as a matter of form, since he felt that if the venture were successful the proposed concessions were not a very serious matter. His one anxiety now was to clinch the deal and prove to the British Admiralty that cargoes could be brought safely by raft from the United States to Great Britain.

  Philip did not know a lawyer in New York, so he secured an introduction from Mrs. Foorde-Bilson to her attorney, a kindly, bespectacled old fellow named Irving Ducross. He said at once that he knew little about shipping law but would get the contract vetted by a firm that specialised in such matters, which he did. It was returned to Philip by the week-end as a perfectly fair and straightforward document, and was signed by both parties in Eiderman’s office on June the 18th.

  The only thing which now remained was to secure a suitable crew of five to man the launch. As she would be able to do no more than correct the general direction of the string of rafts in mild weather, an expert navigator was not required, and Philip had learnt sufficient navigation from his father to take an observation of the sun and work out his position from it. He already knew the engine backwards and enough about radio to send, receive, and do minor repairs to the set if necessary; so he did not need any very highly skilled help. An assistant engineer, a radio operator, and three able seamen to service the rafts, one of whom m
ust be able to cook, were the crew he had in mind; but if he met with difficulty over securing the first two he was willing to take five seamen of average intelligence, as he knew that he might have trouble in finding men willing to sign on for such an unusual trip.

  It was this which caused him to consult Eiderman, who was now taking a great interest in the whole venture, and the blond, lean-cheeked shipping agent responded at once.

  ‘The answer to that one lies in what you’re prepared to pay. Maybe it’ll need double, or treble, the normal wage to tempt five shell-backs into standing for six to ten weeks in what’s hardly more than an open boat. But as you need only five of them what are such wages but a bagatelle compared with your outlay on building and insurance?’

  ‘That’s true,’ Philip concurred, ‘and I’d naturally anticipated having to offer high wages. The thing is how’s the best way to set about finding takers?’

  ‘I’ll have a word with Thorssen. He’ll find you five squareheads from one of our lines. They’ll be tough guys but I think you should not mind that. It’s better so for such an undertaking.’

  ‘So long as they are decent fellows I don’t mind how rough they are.’

  ‘Leave it to me then. But it’s early yet, and there’s no point in your paying retainers for longer than you have to. Towards the end of July will be time enough to get your crew together.’

  The next few weeks slipped by very quickly. During the daytime Philip was busy buying the miscellaneous cargo which he intended to ship on his Number One raft, and arranging for such supplies as oil for the launch and beacons, additional sails, medical stores and food for the voyage; all of which were to be shipped in the Number One raft owing to the launch’s limited accommodation. In the evenings and over week-ends he continued to enjoy a hectic time with Jean and Lexie and their friends. New York was now stiflingly hot, so he often slept out at the Foorde-Bilson house, and at the beginning of July they at last persuaded him to move out there permanently. Jean was the prettier of the two girls, but Lexie was more fun. She also took much more interest in Philip and was making him into quite a passable dancer. Not unnaturally, this propinquity with an attractive young woman was having its effect, and Philip found himself devoting much more time than ever before to thinking about red lips, dark curling eyelashes and the graceful curve of long silk-stockinged legs; yet he did not allow his mind to be distracted from any essential preparation for his voyage.