48

EVENTS near Diggers Rest make news in Adelaide, where Saturday’s Register carries a report straight from The Argus. Frederick Jones reads it aloud to his young pilot. Custance has a bandage wrapped around both ears but is in better shape than the Bleriot, which has a twisted undercarriage, a dent in the petrol tank, and a broken propeller. Jones is hopeful a replacement propeller can be fabricated locally.

‘Three flights in all,’ Jones says.

‘Really?’ Custance replies. He doesn’t sound terribly interested. ‘How long was this fellow up – does it say?’

Jones runs a forefinger over the column of type.

‘Here: three and a half minutes. Two minutes less than you managed, son.’

Custance shrugs. Can’t quite understand the fuss.

‘Doesn’t matter much, I reckon. His is a biplane, yours a monoplane. Chalk and cheese, really.’

Jones wants to read on, but Custance has closed his eyes.

His head hurts.