Hydrofoil Mystery (5 page)

I went up the narrow stairs. Each step groaned under my weight. There was a long hall at the top and there were eight or nine closed doors. The only open door was to the room at the top of the stairs, my room. I went inside and closed the door after me. There were two beds made up with sheets, blankets and pillows. At the foot of each were two extra blankets, neatly folded. There was a writing desk, a wooden chair, a night table with a lamp on it and a chest of drawers.

I dropped my bag on the bed closer to the dresser. I looked at the bag and sadly shook my head. It was my father's old seaman's duffel bag, and I remembered how proud I'd been when he'd given it to me when he got a new one years ago. Now I saw it as nothing more than a
beat-up old piece of canvas. I opened the drawstrings, pulled my clothes out and put them away in the top drawer. That was it for my unpacking. I didn't have many clothes. I was growing quickly, and my mother tried to stretch my clothes to fit me as best she could because we didn't have much money for anything new. Maybe if more of that money my father was earning aboard ship had been finding its way back to us …

I walked across the room and looked out the window. It was partially blocked by leaves and vines that ran up the side of the house, attached to a trellis. Other than that it was a good view, and I could see many of the buildings, including the main house. Even from this distance I could make out the purple flowers against the other colours in the flower bed.

My attention was caught by movement. A man on a horse, leading a second horse behind him, was coming toward the staff house. I watched for a minute until I realized it was Mr. McGregor. I hurried out of my room, down the stairs and out the front door to meet him. He trotted up and dismounted.

“Horses?” I asked.

“Best way to see things. This is a mighty big property and things are scattered all about. You take this one. His name is Limerick and he's very gentle,” he said, handing me the reins.

Hesitantly I took them and climbed up onto the horse while Mr. McGregor hopped back onto the other steed. He flicked the reins and moved away. Limerick quickly fell into step beside the other horse without me needing to do anything except hold on.

“What are we going to see first?”

“I'm going to take you out to the farm. Most of what you'll eat is grown or raised right here on the property. After the farm we'll stop in at Sheepville.”

“That's a strange name for a town.”

Mr. McGregor chuckled. “It's not a town. That's just what we call it. Mr. Bell has spent years experimenting with sheep, trying to raise better breeders. Come on, Ginger!” he said, urging his horse to a trot.

T
HE TOUR STARTED WITH THE FARM
and sheep yards and then moved on to other areas. We passed by open fields and untouched forest, crossed over streams and passed along the tops of high cliffs that dropped off to the vast salt-water lake below. Finally Mr. McGregor brought his horse to a stop and dismounted in a large apple orchard. I was as grateful for the shade and the chance to get off the horse as the horses were for the dried-up old apples they nibbled from the ground. I hadn't ever spent this much time in the saddle, and my backside felt tender.

“So what do you think of the place?” Mr. McGregor asked.

“What's to think?”

“You don't sound very impressed.”

I shrugged. What was I supposed to say? “Well, it's big.”

“And we've only covered a small part of it.”

I hoped he wasn't planning on showing me all of it today; my backside couldn't handle that.

“There are hundreds of acres we haven't laid eyes on, still wild and treed, and many more buildings, including
the laboratory. And of course we haven't seen the menagerie.”

“What's a menagerie?” I asked.

“It's like a zoo.”

“He has a zoo?” I was now impressed, but probably not in the way McGregor intended.

“Aye. Mr. Bell loves animals. His menagerie has different types of birds, including two bald eagles, a bobcat, a cougar and many others. 'Course it's lost my favourite animal, Bruno the bear.”

“A bear?”

“A big black bear. Over seven feet tall standing on his back feet.”

“What happened to him?”

“He kept breaking out of his pen.”

“He escaped?” I asked.

“More than once. I still see him around the property from time to time.”

“You do?”

“Oh, certainly. Haven't seen him for a while … over two weeks … but he just seems to pop out when and where you least expect him. You'll see him, I'm sure.”

I looked around anxiously, like I half expected the bear to materialize out of thin air.

“Maybe our next stop should be the kite house,” Mr. McGregor suggested.

“There's a house for kites?”

“That's just what we call the building because in former times it was home to all of the experiments with kites that Mr. Bell was performing. There are no kites in there now. It's being used to build lifeboats under contract
with the Royal Navy. Over twenty men and women work there seven days a week. You may even start there. It's important work.”

“More important than playing with kites,” I chuckled. Mr. McGregor gave me a hard look. “Playing? Play had nothing to do with those kites. It was work … research … scientific experimentation.”

“How is flying a kite ‘scientific experimentation'?” “Have you ever been in an airplane?”

“Of course not,” I said. I was amazed the few times I'd actually seen one in the air. Lord knows how they stayed up there, but I dreamed of flying in one.

“How do you think heavier-than-air flight started? Right here at this estate is where some of the most important discoveries were made. If it weren't for those kites, we might not have airplanes today! Have you ever heard of the
Silver Dart
?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“It was right here, before my very eyes, on the ice of the lake that Mr. Bell launched the first airplane in the British Commonwealth! And if it hadn't been for the lessons learned with those kites, it never would have been possible! Play, indeed! Now do you have any more questions, young man?” he asked in a disapproving tone.

I looked away and caught sight of a long, low structure in the distance. “Can I see that building?” I asked, pointing into the distance, hoping to change the subject.

He shook his head.

“What goes on in there?”

“Biggest thing on the estate. They're working on the hydrofoil.”

“What's a hydrofoil?” I asked.

“It's a special type of boat … very special and very experimental. As experimental as the kites were. But you won't be working in there. It's all pretty hush-hush what's going on.”

“I thought you were supposed to show me everything on the estate.” This was the first thing about the whole place that had even remotely interested me, so of course I wasn't going to be allowed near it. I almost had to laugh; I was far from home but some things were exactly the same.

“Well …” He paused and smiled. “Maybe we can just take a peek in. You don't look like a German spy.”

“A German spy?”

“I shouldn't be saying any of this. It's enough that you know that what's going on in there could be important for the war effort … I've maybe said too much. Mount up and we'll go and have a look … from a distance.”

I forgot about my sore behind and quickly climbed back up onto Limerick.

The building was close to the water's edge. And as we rounded the corner I saw a sort of railroad track running out of a huge door in the side of the structure and right down into the water. We tied the horses to a tree and I followed Mr. McGregor, who paused well away from the large open door.

“This is close enough,” Mr. McGregor said.

I was struck by a wave of strong, pungent fumes.

“What is that smell?”

“They must be waterproofing the hull today. Awful, isn't it?” Mr. McGregor commented.

I nodded and coughed in response.

It was darker inside and it was hard for my eyes to adjust enough to see anything inside the building. I squinted and cupped a hand over the top of my eyes to block out the brightness. I could see there was a big space and in the middle was a large wooden object that looked like some sort of cross between a boat and an airplane. It was immense! It had to be more than sixty feet long, and two “wings” extended out to the sides. It sat on metal railings at the end of the railroad tracks.

“Quite a beauty, isn't she?” Mr. McGregor asked. “Definitely different.”

“Now have you seen something that has you impressed?” he asked.

Before I could answer, three men walked out of the building. They were talking so intently that they didn't notice us immediately.

“Mind your manners and I'll introduce you to some of the men in charge of this project.

“Good afternoon,” Mr. McGregor called out.

They stopped talking and looked up at us. “Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet the newest hand around the estate. He'll be working here throughout the summer. This is Billy McCracken.”

They hesitated for a second, and a serious look crossed the face of the eldest of the three men.

“I'm Casey Baldwin,” one of the younger men said. He came forward and shook my hand firmly.

“Casey is the principal designer … an engineer by profession,” Mr. McGregor explained. “And these two fine gentlemen are William Stewart, chief carpenter at Beinn
Bhreagh, and his son Murdock, whose job includes a little bit of everything with the
HD
-4.”

Each of the men in turn shook my hand.

“Ah, and there is Mr. Bell himself!” Mr. McGregor said. Mr. Bell came out of the big door. I was hoping not to see him face to face for at least a few days.

“Mr. Bell, this is your newest employee, Billy McCracken.”

“William and I have already made an acquaintance,” Mr. Bell announced very formally. “Perhaps you should be taking him around to Sheepville.”

“Already done, Mr. Bell. We were just heading toward the menagerie when Billy saw this building and asked about it. I know how proud everybody is of the work going on here and—”

“Work we should be getting back to,” Mr. Stewart said sharply.

“You're right, of course … I just wanted Billy to see some of the impressive things being done around the estate.”

“And the
HD
-4 certainly is impressive, isn't she, Billy?” Casey Baldwin asked.

Mr. McGregor laughed. “Come on, Casey, he's only just seen her from a distance, and what other answer could he give with us all hovering over him?”

“Oh, don't worry about William. He'd tell you if he thought it was just some
batty
old boat,” Mr. Bell said.

There was no trace of expression on his face. I'd made a lot of money reading people's faces when I was playing poker against them, but I had no idea what was going on in his head and behind the hard, strong gaze
that was aimed at me. I had the awful feeling he wasn't just looking at me, but looking right through me.

“So what do you think of her?” Casey asked again, gesturing toward the boat.

“I … I don't know … I don't know anything about it,” I grumbled. “I can hardly see it from here.”

“Do you think you might be able to tell him a wee bit, Casey?” Mr. McGregor asked.

“Alec?” Casey asked, turning to Bell.

“A wee bit,” he said, nodding his head.

Casey burst into a huge smile. “She's close to sixty feet long, powered by twin two hundred and fifty horsepower twelve-cylinder Renault engines. The maximum diameter is five-point-seven feet, tapered toward front and back, built around six wooden bulkheads with an outside skin laid spirally in marine glue—”

“That's the god-awful smell,” Mr. McGregor explained. “Her top speed should be between seventy and eighty miles per hour when she rises on her hydrofoils, which are set on a ninety-degree dihedral—”

“Casey, you're talking to a young lad, not another engineer,” Mr. Bell interrupted. He turned directly to me. “Do you know what a hydrofoil is, lad?”

I shook my head.

“Have you ever skipped a rock across some water?” “Yes,” I answered blankly. Who hadn't?

“The hydrofoil is just like that rock. It skips across the surface of the water so it can move much faster than a boat travelling through the water. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“And,” Casey continued, “this will be the perfect ship to hunt down and sink—”

“I think that's more than the lad needs,” Mr. Bell interrupted.

“I do get carried away,” Casey said. “But I guess we should work instead of talk if we ever want to see her run.”

“We won't trouble you any more, gentlemen. I've still some areas to show to Billy before we decide where he'll first be working,” Mr. McGregor said.

“Why don't you start him off at Sheepville?” Mr. Bell asked.

“Sheepville?”

“As good a place as any.”

“Good, then it's decided,” Mr. McGregor said. “He'll start tomorrow at seven-thirty.”

“I'd like you to make an exception for the first day and let him begin a little bit later,” Bell said.

“Later?” Mr. McGregor questioned.

“Aye. He'll be up late tonight.”

“I will?”

“I expect you up at the main house this evening to offer some assistance at the gathering.”

This was going to be even worse than I thought. If it weren't bad enough that I'd be spending my days walking through sheep manure, during the evening I'd be nothing more than a servant, fetching and grovelling for a bunch of rich people who thought they were better than me. Just you wait, though, I thought, until the first chance I get when nobody's looking. I'll just go and spit in somebody's soup!