Forty-nine

 

The night was warm and there was a huge silver moon hanging over the lake. Krissie insisted on joining Edward in his room for a nightcap, and clearly expected to stay. A few years ago, Edward might have succumbed. But in the nicest possible way he suggested that she should leave.

By the time they met again next morning for breakfast, it was clear that Sazyko was the beneficiary of her attentions, and he was happy to comply.

Leroux took them all off to the lake in a big Fiat. The Lightening lay at a wooden jetty which had once been used for pleasure steamers. Leroux had hired it with the nearby slip and wooden workshops. There was a team of Italian mechanics and one South African who seemed entirely out of his depth. ‘Just keep an eye on the speed,’ he said. ‘We don’t want to overdo it yet.’

Alongside the jetty the hatches were removed. Sam and the mechanics did a last-minute check on the engines, while Leroux joined Krissie on the jetty.

Sam and Edward strapped themselves in and pulled on the flying helmets and goggles that had been provided. As Edward took the wheel, Sazyko started the starboard engine, and then slipped into the tender.

Swinging the wheel to face the boat up the lake, Edward opened the throttle. Despite the stabilising fins, the boat immediately showed a tendency to veer to starboard and, as the bow lifted, the view decreased and the spray grew worse. A heavy bumping started at a speed considerably below full potential and Sam made urgent signs to slow down.

They turned in a large circle, then, swinging to face down the lake, Edward accelerated again. The bumping and bucking returned and, as speed increased, rapidly became so uncontrollable that Edward slammed the throttles closed. The boat dipped its nose and lifted its stern as it came to a stop in a cloud of steam and spray.

‘She’s got the power all right,’ said Sam, ‘but I’m not sure it’s attached to the right boat!’

As they were towed alongside the jetty to the clicking cameras and the applause of spectators, Leroux greeted them with a slightly nervous smile.

‘What do you think of her?’

Edward climbed ashore and attached the painter to the ring on the jetty.

‘I think you’ve got a long way to go, Fricky.’

Leroux could not hide his disappointment.

‘You’ve got a hell of a powerplant. I think it would drive a much bigger boat at the speed you want to achieve. But I think those wings you added are dangerous. They’re lifting her too high out of the water. At a hundred miles an hour, she’d be so high the hull would be causing wind resistance. You’ve got to keep her down so she goes into it like an arrow, not like a brick wall.’

‘I think you’re talking bloody rubbish, man.’ Leroux flushed. ‘The next good day we have, I’m going for the record.’

Against their better judgement, Sam and Edward worked hard on the engines.

‘This boat,’ Sam said, ‘is a bloody fraud. With those wings they fitted it almost flies. Your friend, Leroux, wouldn’t know a good engine from a bit of clockwork. And this Sazyko fellow’s just chucked a few ideas together that he got from a book and Leroux’s swallowed them hook, line and sinker. But if he wants to commit suicide, I suppose that’s his business.’

 

When Ginny arrived with Rosina, the two couples celebrated with dinner at a lakeside restaurant. But it was a muted affair. Neither Sam nor Edward could conceal the fact that they feared for Fricky Leroux’s safety. The weather, which had remained overcast and blustery for sometime, began to improve. And after two days of sunshine, Leroux decided to make his attempt. The press were informed and cars and busloads of people lined the water’s edge. A squad of black-shirted men were helping the police to keep order.

‘I want you in the other seat,’ Leroux said.

Edward shook his head. ‘Not me, Fricky. Sazyko should be there. It’s his boat.’

‘You’re just yellow,’ Krissie snapped as they met later in the hotel bar.

‘Think what you like,’ said Edward. ‘I’ve told your father what I think about his boat. If he chooses not to listen, that’s his affair.’

The jetty bustled with engineers, technicians and press, while Leroux, Krissie and Sazyko were talking with the Italian mechanics. The boats containing the timekeepers had taken up their positions on the lake, but even now nobody was certain that the water was right. By the middle of the afternoon, however, the slight breeze had died down and the water was like glass.

‘Can’t you stop him, Spy?’ Ginny asked.

‘Nothing in the world’s going to stop him now,’ Edward said.

Leroux was grim-faced, and Sazyko obviously nervous, as they climbed aboard the boat. The spectators hushed.

The starboard engine started with a bang, followed by the port, and the boat moved slowly forward. When the boat was no more than a speck in the distance, close to the officials’ tender, Edward saw the sun glint on the polished hull as it turned to face them.

The rumble of the engines became a full-throttle roar, as the boat raced towards them in a cloud of white spray.

‘By God, he’s fast,’ Sam said, in genuine admiration.

The word went round that Leroux had reached 90 miles an hour.

‘I wouldn’t have believed it,’ Sam said. ‘He’s only got to do it the other way and the record’s his.’

There was a long pause before the throttles opened once more. And the crowd yelled with excitement. The boat was screaming towards them now, bow up, only the stern in the water. Through the binoculars Edward watched tensely. Sazyko was flapping his hands, but Leroux’s head was down as he struggled with the wheel. As the boat approached them for the beginning of the measured mile, the nose began to lift. The engines sounded powerful, but the bow looked too high and seemed to be lifting higher and higher.

‘Shut down!’ Sam shouted, although he could not be heard.

‘Pa!’ Krissie wailed. ‘Oh, Pa!’

Suddenly the engines screamed and there was a gasp from the crowd.

The boat bounced twice, shot into the air, turned a somersault, then dived in a backwards loop into the lake. The sun made rainbows of the drifting spray.

The officials’ tender accelerated down the lake, but by the time they arrived at the spot where the Lightning had vanished, the only trace of boat and crew was a floating leather cushion and a smear of oil.