avoiding sharks and thirst and sunburn as best we can—and all of that means holding still. Quite still and all the time. Except that I think we should turn over now and then, after the sun is out, to spread the burn.”
“And pray for cloudy weather. Yes, all of that. And maybe we should not talk. Not get quite so thirsty—eh?”
She kept silent so long that I thought she had started the discipline I had suggested. Then she said, “Beloved, we may not live.”
“I know.”
“If we are to die, I would choose to hear your voice, and I would not wish to be deprived of telling you that I love you—now that I may!—in a futile attempt to live a few minutes longer.”
“Yes, my sweetheart. Yes.”
Despite that decision we talked very little. For me it was enough to touch her hand; it appeared to be enough for her, too.
A long time later—three hours at a guess—I heard Margrethe gasp.
“Trouble?”
“Alec! Look there!” She pointed. I looked.
It should have been my turn to gasp, but I was somewhat braced for it: high up, a cruciform shape, somewhat like a bird gliding, but much larger and clearly artificial. A flying machine—
I knew that flying machines were impossible; in engineering school I had studied Professor Simon Newcomb’s well-known mathematical proof that the efforts of Professor Langley and others to build an aerodyne capable of carrying a man were doomed, useless, because scale theory proved that no such contraption large enough to carry a man could carry a heat-energy plant large enough to lift it off the ground—much less a passenger.
That was science’s final word on a folly and it put a stop to wasting public monies on a will-o’-the-wisp. Research and development money went into airships, where it belonged, with enormous success.
However, in the past few days I had gained a new angle on the idea of “impossible.” When a veritable flying machine showed up in our sky, I was not greatly surprised.
I think Margrethe held her breath until it passed over us and was far toward the horizon. I started to, then forced myself to breathe calmly—it was such a beautiful thing, silvery and sleek and fast. I could not judge its size, but, if those dark spots in its side were windows, then it was enormous.
I could not see what pushed it along.
“Alec…is that an airship?”
“No. At least it is not what I meant when I told you about airships. This I would call a ‘flying machine.’ That’s all I can say; I’ve never seen one before. But I can tell you one thing, now—something very important.”
“Yes?”
“We are not going to die…and I now know why the ship was sunk.”
“Why, Alec?”
“To keep me from checking a thumbprint.”
IX
For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat:
I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink:
I was a stranger, and ye took me in.
Matthew 25:35
“Or, to put it more nearly exactly, the iceberg was there and the collision took place to keep me from checking my thumbprint against the thumbprint on Graham’s driver’s license. The ship may not have sunk; that may not have been necessary to the scheme.”
Margrethe did not say anything.
So I added gently, “Go ahead, dear; say it. Get it off your chest; I won’t mind. I’m crazy. Paranoid.”
“Alec, I did not say that. I did not think it. I would not.”
“No, you did not say it. But this time my aberration cannot be explained away as ‘loss of memory.’ That is, if we saw the same thing. What did you see?”
“I saw something strange in the sky. I heard it, too. You told me that it was a flying machine.”
“Well, I think that is what it should be called—but you can call it a, uh, a ‘gumpersaggle’ for all of me. Something new and strange. What is this gumpersaggle? Describe it.”
“It was something moving in the sky. It came from back that way, then passed almost over us, and disappeared there.” (She pointed, a direction I had decided was north.) “It was shaped something
“And pray for cloudy weather. Yes, all of that. And maybe we should not talk. Not get quite so thirsty—eh?”
She kept silent so long that I thought she had started the discipline I had suggested. Then she said, “Beloved, we may not live.”
“I know.”
“If we are to die, I would choose to hear your voice, and I would not wish to be deprived of telling you that I love you—now that I may!—in a futile attempt to live a few minutes longer.”
“Yes, my sweetheart. Yes.”
Despite that decision we talked very little. For me it was enough to touch her hand; it appeared to be enough for her, too.
A long time later—three hours at a guess—I heard Margrethe gasp.
“Trouble?”
“Alec! Look there!” She pointed. I looked.
It should have been my turn to gasp, but I was somewhat braced for it: high up, a cruciform shape, somewhat like a bird gliding, but much larger and clearly artificial. A flying machine—
I knew that flying machines were impossible; in engineering school I had studied Professor Simon Newcomb’s well-known mathematical proof that the efforts of Professor Langley and others to build an aerodyne capable of carrying a man were doomed, useless, because scale theory proved that no such contraption large enough to carry a man could carry a heat-energy plant large enough to lift it off the ground—much less a passenger.
That was science’s final word on a folly and it put a stop to wasting public monies on a will-o’-the-wisp. Research and development money went into airships, where it belonged, with enormous success.
However, in the past few days I had gained a new angle on the idea of “impossible.” When a veritable flying machine showed up in our sky, I was not greatly surprised.
I think Margrethe held her breath until it passed over us and was far toward the horizon. I started to, then forced myself to breathe calmly—it was such a beautiful thing, silvery and sleek and fast. I could not judge its size, but, if those dark spots in its side were windows, then it was enormous.
I could not see what pushed it along.
“Alec…is that an airship?”
“No. At least it is not what I meant when I told you about airships. This I would call a ‘flying machine.’ That’s all I can say; I’ve never seen one before. But I can tell you one thing, now—something very important.”
“Yes?”
“We are not going to die…and I now know why the ship was sunk.”
“Why, Alec?”
“To keep me from checking a thumbprint.”
IX
For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat:
I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink:
I was a stranger, and ye took me in.
Matthew 25:35
“Or, to put it more nearly exactly, the iceberg was there and the collision took place to keep me from checking my thumbprint against the thumbprint on Graham’s driver’s license. The ship may not have sunk; that may not have been necessary to the scheme.”
Margrethe did not say anything.
So I added gently, “Go ahead, dear; say it. Get it off your chest; I won’t mind. I’m crazy. Paranoid.”
“Alec, I did not say that. I did not think it. I would not.”
“No, you did not say it. But this time my aberration cannot be explained away as ‘loss of memory.’ That is, if we saw the same thing. What did you see?”
“I saw something strange in the sky. I heard it, too. You told me that it was a flying machine.”
“Well, I think that is what it should be called—but you can call it a, uh, a ‘gumpersaggle’ for all of me. Something new and strange. What is this gumpersaggle? Describe it.”
“It was something moving in the sky. It came from back that way, then passed almost over us, and disappeared there.” (She pointed, a direction I had decided was north.) “It was shaped something
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