‘About three weeks. It’s quite a way from here.’
‘Will we be going into Honolulu?’
The captain shook his head. ‘I’ll have to do some figuring this afternoon, but I can tell you right now what the answer will be. North from here until we’re clear of the Tuamotus at Mataiva. Then make all the easterly we can while we’re in the south-east trades. Cross the line about longitude 145, maybe. Then a thousand or twelve hundred miles of beating up against the north-east trades, tracking due north — if we’re lucky. After that, gales and fog and rain and radio bearings to Cape Flattery - all kinds of rough stuff. Then home, and a few days ski-ing on the spring snow. Just lead me to it!’
He went on shore to lunch with the Chef du Port alone and to get the necessary clearances. Keith lunched alone in the saloon and strolled along the quays. He bought a tinted coral necklace for Janice and a bracelet of polished beans and shells for Katie, souvenirs of his travels that did not cost too much because he still had no idea how he was to get back to Ealing from Seattle. The one thing that seemed clear to him was that he hadn’t got enough money for the fare, however he might travel. Still, he was getting a good lift on the homeward track by going in the Flying Cloud to Seattle. He was not very worried now about the homeward journey; one way or another he would make it.
Twenty days later the Flying Cloud entered the Juan de Fuca strait in a rainstorm at about ten o’clock in the morning, running into relatively sheltered water before a strong westerly wind. They drove in with the mizzen furled, the mainsail close-reefed, and the fore topsails doing most of the work, an engineer on watch beside the motionless diesel. They passed, by radio bearings, about four miles north of Cape Flattery and never saw it, and carried on down the strait all day, gradually coming into calmer water. On deck they carried the engine from Shearwater in a packing case constructed in the first days of the voyage, one side secured by screws for the benefit of Customs, lashed down on deck beneath two thicknesses of tarpaulin.
In the early afternoon they passed Port Townsend and entered the calm waters of the Puget Sound. The rain stopped and the clouds lifted to a thin, watery sunset light as they ran down past Edmonds, heading south under mainsail and jibs, the topsails furled. With the last of the light they approached Seattle, furled the main and started the diesel, and finally dropped anchor in the quarantine section of Elliott Bay just north of Duwamish Head.
The captain came out of the wheelhouse as the chain rattled out. ‘We’ll be staying here all night,’ he said. ‘It’s a bit late now. Harbourmaster, Port Health Officer, and Customs - they’ll be off about eight in the morning. I reckon we’ll have breakfast half past seven. Then after that we move into a berth.’
‘What about this chap Jim Rockawin?’ asked Keith. We had to let him know.’
‘That’s so. I sent him a radiogram four days ago via San Francisco. I’ve got a shore connection now on V.H.F. I guess that this might be as good a time as any, try and get him at his home.’
Ten minutes later he was speaking to Jim Rockawin, who in turn rang Julie at the Hirzhorn home near Wauna. ‘Oh, fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell Mr Hirzhorn. He’s down in the workshop right now. Can I fix everything, or would you like it if I put you through?’
‘I don’t want to disturb him unless you think he’d like to speak to me.’
‘I don’t think that there’s anything that we can’t fix between us, Mr Rockawin. Mr Hirzhorn has been looking forward to Mr Stewart visiting with him for a few days, and he’d like you to bring him right out here, with his suitcases, as soon as you can get him off the yacht. He’s kept the next four days free of all appointments. He thought perhaps Mr Stewart might care to take a look around some of the plants with him.’
Jim Rockawin was deeply impressed. He knew that Sol Hirzhorn thought a lot of this British engineer; he had not realised that his regard went so far as to allocate four days of his time to him. The thought flashed through his mind that, inevitably, in that four days they would discuss the Flume River mill, and the proposal to convert it to Ferris Hydraulics. Keith Stewart was important to Chuck Ferris, and Chuck ought to know about it.
He said, ‘It would probably be midday before I get him off the yacht, past Customs and all the rest of it. Suppose I give him lunch in the city and bring him out to Wauna in the afternoon?’
She said evenly and directly, ‘Mr Hirzhorn doesn’t like secret hand-outs, Mr Rockawin. What’s more, he always gets to hear about them in good time, or else I do.’
‘Say,’ he expostulated weakly, ‘we wouldn’t think of anything like that.’
‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll expect you in the middle of the afternoon, and we’ll get the room made up. Mr Hirzhorn will be very pleased when I tell him. He’s very grateful, very grateful indeed, to Mr Ferris for lending his yacht. Don’t go and spoil it.’
‘I won’t,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘The job’s good enough to stand on its own feet.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ she said. ‘ ’Bye now.’
Jim Rockawin put down the telephone and sat in thought for a few minutes. His first reaction had been that if Sol Hirzhorn was going to take this British engineer all round his plants and talk to him about the Flume River mill, they should get hold of him at once. He should call Chuck immediately. Chuck would probably drop everything and fly out to Seattle to meet Keith Stewart at lunch tomorrow; Chuck could be pretty impetuous at times. Now, after talking with Julie, he was not so sure that that would be a very good idea. He had a notion that nothing he or Chuck might say to Keith before he got to Wauna would remain long unknown to Julie or Sol Hirzhorn; in Seattle they were playing on their own home ground. Better, perhaps, to take the matter straight, and leave Chuck out of it.
He did not call his boss.
He was on the quayside when the Flying Cloud berthed at about ten o’clock next morning. He knew Captain Petersen well, and greeted him cheerfully as he went up the gangway. ‘Hi, Joe,’ he said. ‘How’s everything?’
‘Good and bad,’ said Captain Petersen. ‘Jim, this is Mr Stewart.’
‘Glad to know you, Mr Stewart.’ They shook hands. He turned again to the captain. ‘What’s bad, Joe?’
‘Dawn,’ said Captain Petersen. ‘You know she skipped it?’
‘I did hear something,’ Mr Rockawin admitted. ‘Got another guy?’
‘And how. Is Chuck mad with me?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘He will be when he hears the whole of it,’ said the captain apprehensively.
‘He knows most of it already,’ said the engineer. ‘He did get a bit upset after he got your radio, so he called Sol Hirzhorn and told him all about it. They’re pretty thick, just now. Sol put Julie on to find out what she could about this Jack Donelly. She got a line on him from the manager of the forest down on Taylor Butte, and then she called a guy they’ve got called Paul Setches out in Honolulu to get a line on him from there. I’d say Chuck knows most of it now.’ He smiled. ‘The worst that Julie managed to find out was that he got in prison once three months for rape, and she reckoned that was a put-up job.’
‘That’s one I didn’t know about,’ said the captain. ‘Three months isn’t much for rape.’
‘It wasn’t much of a rape, according to Julie,’ said Mr Rockawin. ‘She says the girl’s been giving her mother hell ever since.’
Captain Petersen was immensely relieved. ‘Well - gee, I’m thankful that I haven’t got to tell Chuck much.’
‘He’s not worrying. She’s left three husbands and she’ll leave this one if she wants to. But — you never know. This one might stick.’
He turned to Keith Stewart. ‘Say, Mr Stewart,’ he said, ‘Sol Hirzhorn’s looking forward to you staying with him a few days before you go back to England. He wants to talk to you about a clock he’s making, and he wants to take you round and show you something of the Hirzhorn enterprise. Is that okay with you?’
‘Of course,’ said Keith. ‘I’d like to meet him. I had some l
etters from him back in England.’
‘Well, that’s fine. If you can get packed up I’ve got my car right here. What I thought we could do is drive around a bit so you can see Seattle, and then have lunch, and then drive out to Wauna in the afternoon. That’s around fifty miles, to where Sol Hirzhorn lives.’
‘That sounds fine,’ said Keith. ‘There’s just one thing. This case has the engine from my sister’s yacht in it, that got wrecked in the Tuamotus. I want to get it shipped back to England.’
‘Perkins and Durant,’ said Mr Rockawin. ‘They’d be the best shipping agents to handle that. It’s passed Customs inwards?’
‘That’s right,’ said Captain Petersen. ‘We took the top of the case off for them this morning. There’s their mark.’
‘Oh well, then, it won’t have to go in bond. I’ll get a truck along and take it to their warehouse. Leave it to me. I’ll bring you out the documents to sign.’
The steward brought Keith’s suitcase up on deck. Keith turned to Captain Petersen. ‘I don’t know if I’ll be coming on board again,’ he said, ‘but I suppose I shan’t. I’d like to say thank you, for all you’ve done for me.’
The captain said, ‘It’s been a real pleasure having you aboard, Mr Stewart, and having your company. And say, that trip down to Tahiti was a pleasure too, not to mention ending up back here at home. I’d have cut my throat if I’d been stuck in Honolulu for much longer, acting as a houseboat while Dawn made eyes at Manuel.’ They shook hands. ‘I’ll be seeing you one day.’
Keith went down the gangway with Jim Rockawin to the car, the steward following with the suitcase. ‘I guess we’ll go up through the city first of all so you can see the sort of town it is, up by Lake Union, across the canal, take a look around the university, then back down Lake Washington Boulevard so you can see Lake Washington. Then back by Boeing Field and have lunch in the city.’ He paused. ‘Say, if you could get Sol Hirzhorn to spare you for a day, I’d like to take you into Boeing. There’s stuff there classified you couldn’t see, of course, but there’s plenty that you could. And there are engineers in Boeing know about your writing in the magazine. They’d be real glad to show you around.’
They drove round for an hour and a half, and finished up in the grillroom of the Olympic Hotel for lunch. Keith was a little daunted by the magnificence of the hotel and completely overawed by the prices on the menu, far from his Ealing way of life. He was equally astounded by the size of the spare ribs when they were placed before him; it seemed impossible that he should eat all that, as indeed it was. Towards the end of his meal, he said to Mr Rockawin, ‘Tell me, Mr Rockawin -’
‘Jim,’ the other interrupted smiling. ‘We get pretty quickly here to where it seems kind of formal, even rude, if you keep on using the surname. That’s unless there’s a good big difference in rank. I don’t suppose I’ll ever get around to calling Mr Hirzhorn “Sol”.’
‘All right, Jim,’ said Keith. ‘Tell me - what does Mr Ferris do?’
The representative brushed the ash off his cigarette, which gave him a moment for thought. ‘Hydraulic engineering,’ he replied. ‘Ferris Hydraulics Incorporated of Cincinnati. Ever heard of them?’
Keith nodded. ‘Is that the same Ferris?’
‘There’s only one Chuck Ferris,’ said his representative. ‘He’s my boss.’
Keith searched his memory. ‘Aviation mostly - and motor cars?’
‘Well, that’s the way it used to be,’ said Mr Rockawin. ‘Automotive products are up each year, both in the United States and on the Continent of Europe from our Laeken plant, in Belgium. But aviation products are declining — they’re way down from what they used to be. That’s general in the industry, on account of airplanes flying higher. But we get by.’
Keith thought for a minute. ‘I’d like you to know that I’m very grateful to Mr Hirzhorn and to Mr Ferris for sending the Flying Cloud down to Tahiti,’ he said. ‘It was a tremendous help. We were really in trouble — quite bad trouble — when Captain Petersen turned up. I don’t think I’d ever have got out to see my sister’s grave or to set up a stone without his help. It meant a lot to me.’
‘Well, that’s real nice to know,’ said Mr Rockawin. ‘Mr Hirzhorn, he’d be glad to know that, if you tell him.’ He paused. ‘I think when people get older,’ he said, ‘they kind of get more mellow. They kind of like to give help in return for help they get. And Sol Hirzhorn, he’s mighty interested in that clock.’
Keith nodded. ‘It was very good of Mr Ferris, too, to lend his yacht.’
‘Oh, sure,’ said Mr Rockawin. ‘But Chuck’s not building a clock. He lent the Flying Cloud just in the way of business. It’s Sol Hirzhorn that you want to thank.’
‘Captain Petersen showed me a telegram he’d had from Mr Ferris,’ Keith remarked. ‘It was in Papeete, when we were so worried about Dawn. It was all about Dawn. But Mr Ferris did say one thing. He wanted the Flying Cloud to come straight back to Seattle with me on board, because he said he had what he called a king-sized deal pending with Sol Hirzhorn.’
‘He said that, did he?’ Mr Rockawin sat in thought for a moment, wondering if it was wise to take a line so very different from that which his employer would have taken. ‘Well, that’s true enough, Mr Stewart,’ he said at last. ‘There is a contract pending between Mr Ferris and Sol Hirzhorn. You know that already.’ He paused again. ‘Whether you come into it or not, I wouldn’t know. In any case, I’m not going to tell you a thing about it. You’ll be staying with Sol Hirzhorn for the next few days. If he likes to tell you about it, well, it’s his business and that’s okay with me. But I’m not telling you about Sol Hirzhorn’s business from this end.’ He smiled. ‘Julie would know all about it by the time we get to Wauna.’
Keith asked, ‘Who is this Julie? Captain Petersen said something about her once.’
‘Julie Perlberg,’ said Mr Rockawin. ‘She’s a Jewish girl, I think — quite young. Twenty-five, maybe. She’s the old man’s private secretary, sharp as a needle.’ He paused. ‘I’ve heard it said that there was some kind of a tragedy, I don’t know. In any case, that’s only rumour. If true, she’d be his grand-daughter.’ He paused. ‘She lives at Wauna in the house with him - his wife’s away in Florida most winters, so she runs the house servants. She goes to conferences with him, taking shorthand notes. You might say she’s his eyes and ears right now.’ He laughed, ‘And say, they’re mighty sharp eyes and mighty long ears.’
Keith smiled with him. ‘Long enough to hear what’s going on in here?’
‘She’s quite capable of having someone put a mike into that bowl of flowers,’ said Mr Rockawin. ‘Although I don’t really think she works that way. She’d know by just looking at us if we’d talked about the deal.’ He paused. ‘She’s sharp, like all her family.’
‘We’d better not talk about it, then,’ said Keith.
‘I’m not going to,’ said Mr Rockawin. ‘I told you that.’
He paid the check and they went out of the hotel to the car at the parking meter, where the policeman was just making out a ticket for staying too long. Rockawin talked him out of it by introducing Keith Stewart as an English visitor, which so intrigued the policeman, who had been in England in the war, that he forgot about the ticket. They got on the road for Tacoma and on southwards down the fringes of the Puget Sound. It was the first time that Keith had been in the United States and he was amazed by the high standard of living, at any rate in visible, material things. The size and beauty of the motor-cars, the number of them, the size and quality of the roads, and the enormous number of great four-wheeled trailer caravans: these things impressed him very much indeed.
They drove through the industrial city of Tacoma at the head of Puget Sound and over the toll bridge across the Narrows out into the country again. Presently they left the road and turned into an inconspicuous lane or drive marked only by stone pillars by the roadside, and went on winding up the hill through a forest of fir trees. After half a mile they came out on t
o an open hillside, a place of grass and granite outcrops with a little snow upon the ground, and with a magnificent view over to the snow-covered Olympic Mountains to the west. There stood the house, a long, low stone building, two-storeyed in the front and single-storeyed at the back by the slope of the hillside, a house very much larger than appeared at the first glance. Below it lay an inlet of the sound with boathouses and a moored motor yacht, and by the water’s edge there was a long airstrip with a hangar by the road that led down to it.
Jim Rockawin drove up to the front door behind the house and parked the car. A manservant in a green baize apron came out and took the suitcase, and they went towards the house. A stout, elderly man came forward to meet them. ‘Mr Stewart, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘This is a real pleasure. We’ve exchanged letters, but we’ve never met before. Say, take off your coat and come right in.’ He paused. ‘I’m Sol Hirzhorn.’
They went into the huge living-room with the great picture window looking out over the Olympics. ‘Mr Stewart, would you like a cup of tea?’ he asked. ‘I know you Englishmen drink tea in the afternoon.’
Keith said, ‘Don’t bother about that for me, Mr Hirzhorn. I’ve been away from England long enough to get out of English ways.’
‘We often have a cup of tea around this time,’ said Mr Hirzhorn. ‘It’s getting so it’s quite a habit in the office.’ He raised his voice. ‘Say, Julie!’ She came into the room. ‘Mr Stewart, I’d like you to meet Julie Perlberg. She does all my letters to you. Julie, this is Mr Stewart. Say, would you tell Jake to get us English tea, with cookies or sump’n?’
‘I’m glad to know you, Mr Stewart,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll see about that right away, Mr Hirzhorn.’
Keith walked over to the big window. ‘What a wonderful view,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘I built the house for it,’ said Mr Hirzhorn simply. ‘I saw it first when I was quite a young chap and I used to go all over for the cutting. Lumber - that’s my business - you know that.’ Keith nodded. ‘Nineteen twenty-two - or twenty-three would it have been? I can’t just remember. I’d have been thirty years old or so about that time, and married about five years. I thought then that I’d like to have a summer camp up on this hill. Well, then that wasn’t hardly practical with a young family and not much time to spare, but I never forgot about it. I got to realise that it would take a lot of money to live here and work at the same time. But anyway, I couldn’t get it out of my head, and in 1936 things got so I could buy the land as an investment, so I’d got it, anyway.’