Chapter 20
At dawn, Roger was gently roused from his sleep by Henri who next woke Eduardo and Pedro.
Yawning mightily, Roger gulped down some cold coffee and pulled on his boots before grabbing a flashlight and exiting the plane to inspect it before take off.
Eduardo joined him and the two of them checked the bulky Martin Mariner very carefully, they were going to be over water for several hours and wanted no surprises.
When they reentered the plane, Pedro was finishing up changing his wound dressing and checking to see how it was healing before covering it back up again.
He grinned and said grimly, "I am thankful it wasn't a .45 that he shot me with, I would be in the hospital or on a slab if it had been anything larger than a 9mm!"
With everything checked and re-checked, Henri climbed into the pilot's seat while Pedro took the co-pilot's side.
Pedro contacted the tower while Henri went through the final checks and began starting the engines, there was the usual coughing and smoking and spluttering typical of big radial engines then with a roar, the engine cleared its throat and began whirling at a busy 1,000 RPM.
The entire performance was repeated with the second engine and soon, hearing protection was required over the throaty roar of the big engines.
After a fairly routine take off, they were soon out over the Atlantic ocean, heading north to Trinidad and the international airport there.
The flight was uneventful and the big airplane flew steadily on its course setting while Henri and Pedro monitored radio traffic.
Roger took advantage of the calm to send a couple of photos to Freya and to catch up on his sleep.
Hours later, it was the changing of the engine's pitch that woke him up from a sound sleep.
They were entering the flight pattern approaching Piacro International Airport, Trinidad.
When it was their turn, Henri brought the bulky seaplane in for a perfect landing, braked to a near halt and exited the runway as directed.
Shutting the engines off and waiting for the fuel truck to arrive, Roger and Eduardo took advantage of the wait to check the fuel filters and drain the sediment bowls before topping off the engine oil.
Accompanying the fuel truck was an official looking gentleman who asked if they had anything to declare before entering Trinidad.
He looked a bit disappointed when Roger smiled and replied, "To tell you the truth sir, we're not leaving the airport and plan on leaving after fueling up."
He looked Roger over and saw an unshaven, disheveled, somewhat grimy, sunburnt white man who could stand a bath.
He nodded, got back into his jeep and drove off without comment.
While the plane was getting fueled, they conferred on their next flight.
Right off Roger said firmly, "We have to avoid Cuban airspace or Jamaican or even Haitian, they might not appreciate an old warbird flying over their islands. Especially one with Brazilian military markings still on it!"
Pedro chuckled and remarked, "We could fly west to central America and follow the coast up to Belize, most of those banana republics lack any real airforce and wouldn't bother with us."
They all glanced at each other and nodded in agreement, west it would be.
A hour later and they saw Trinidad disappearing behind them while in the distance, the coast of Central America lay beyond the horizon.
Roger was at the controls with Eduardo while Henri and Pedro napped for the next leg of the journey.
Cruising at a stately 200 MPH, they aimed to conserve fuel and give the engines a break, with a decent tailwind helping them along they had figured on the flight taking about five hours.
Four and a half hours later they passed over the eastern coast of Panama and banked north. The left engine began running raggedly as if it was starving for fuel and shortly after that, the right engine began acting up.
Eduardo slipped out of the co-pilot's chair and Pedro took his place, in the distance ahead lay Gatun Lake, part of the massive Panama Canal complex.
Roger aimed the plane towards it and struggled to keep the nose up as the plane descended rapidly.
Pedro radioed ahead, warning of their impending arrival and their troubles.
Roger saw an open patch of water free of cargo ships and fishing boats and set the plane on the water with a mighty splash, the entire plane shuddered and threatened to nose over, but Roger, with a herculean effort, kept the nose up and the plane rapidly slowed to a halt.
Roger shut the engines off and they drifted in the water, powerless.
Letting go of the controls, Roger leaned back and heaved a great sigh of relief.
It was a very near thing and they all knew it.
"Now what?" asked Henri, "I don't think ze Canal Zone officials will appreciate our dropping in like zhis."
Roger said grimly, "First, we'll check the fuel filters, who knows what kind of crap gas we got in Trinidad. Eduardo and I checked the filters and sediment bowls when we last filled up and they were clean!"
Roger looked out the window and saw that a small crowd of boats filled with curious onlookers had gathered, after all, it wasn't every day that a huge seaplane landed on Gatun Lake so suddenly.
A larger boat with a flashing blue light approached tooting its horn and the smaller craft made way for it.
It was marked "Canal Zone Police" and it idled up next to the pilot's side window.
An officer leaned out of his window and called out, " Ahoy sea plane, what happened?"
Roger hollered back, "Engines quit, we had to land here or crash in the jungle!"
"Are there any injured?" asked the patrolman.
"No, thank goodness! Just red faces and jangled nerves."
The patrolman said apologetically, "I have to notify my superiors about this, this isn't something we have happen regularly. Especially since you have Brazilian Air Force markings."
Roger could only shrug in reply as the patrolman did his duty.
Climbing on top of the aircraft, Roger and Eduardo opened the rear engine nacelles and looked at the sediment bowls and fuel filters.
They were filled with a cloudy mixture of gasoline and water and sediment.
Roger looked across to Eduardo and yelled, "Are you finding sediment too?"
Eduardo looked up at him and with a look of disgust, held up a glass jar full of a murky fluid to answer his question.
Climbing back down inside again, they showed their finds to Henri and Pedro.
Eduardo spat and muttered a curse before saying, "I'm surprised we got this far and what if we hadn't been in a seaplane?" he let that sink in for a moment.
Pedro looked thoughtful and asked, "Can you fix this?"
Eduardo glanced over at Roger for a moment and the two nodded in agreement before Eduardo replied, "We can fix this with the tools we have, but we need to filter all the remaining fuel and somehow, get the sediment out of the tanks before we can really say 'it's fixed'."
Roger got out his satellite phone and called Rachel, when she answered the phone, he said, "Right now we're sitting on Gatun Lake, in the Panama Canal zone. We've had engine troubles and we're assessing our options, we think we can fix the problem and we're otherwise okay."
After a brief pause, Rachel asked, "So what happened?"
Roger sighed and said, "The Avgas we got in Trinidad turned out be crap, it was full of sediment and water mixed in with it. We had checked our fuel filters and sediment traps before hand and they were clean. The engines started acting up just after we made landfall and Gatun Lake was really handy, so we landed there. Right now, we have quite an audience wondering what we'll do next."
"Do you want me to place a hold on that last card charge then?" asked Rachel.
"Hell yes! That shit gas could've caused us to go down at sea and even with a seaplane, landing on open ocean water is tricky as hell. Especially with faltering engines, we'd have little chance of survival!" Growled Roger.
"I'll take that as a 'yes' then." remarked Rachel.
"Please do and thanks!" replied Roger with a grin.
Ending the call, Roger turned to the others and said, "At least we can get our money back and teach them a lesson in economics."
The sound of the patrol boat returning intruded on their thoughts.
The officer eased up alongside the gently rocking Martin Mariner and the open side door.
"Ahoy sea plane!" he called out, Roger acknowledged him with a wave and a cheery, "Ahoy patrol boat, what news?"
The officer speaking over the murmuring boat engine replied, "We can tow this over to Escobar, a small town near here. We can't have you all out here where a ship might run into you, you're near the main channel for ship traffic and might become a hazard."
Roger nodded in agreement and said, "Bring your boat around the front, there is a mooring point you can tie off to."
The patrolman grinned and backed up to maneuver around the huge wings and cruised up to the nose of the bulky airplane.
Henri in the meantime, had crawled forward and slid the front turret back so he could tie off to the mooring point and toss the line to the patrolman when he was ready.
Soon, the motor patrol boat with all lights flashing, was churning along with a massive world war two seaplane tied to its stern.
Going slowly to allow the small watercraft to make way, it took over an hour to reach a wooden dock near the town of Escobar, Panama.
There, the plane was tied off to the dock and Roger without a single look of irony, cheerfully paid the 'service fees' for getting the plane towed out of harm's way.
When they were secured, Roger called Freya, she answered within three rings. "Hi sweetie!" he began, "We're going to be a bit delayed for a few days."
"Whit dae ye mean 'delayed'? Whit happened?" she asked.
"We had a bit of engine trouble and had to land at Gatun Lake in Panama. We're all fine, just a little annoyed because of the crap gas causing all the trouble." replied Roger.
"Sae whit ur ye gang tae dae noo?" asked Freya.
"We're already docked and a couple of us are in town getting some things we'll need. I thought I'd call you and let you know I'm okay. Just going to be delayed a few more days." replied Roger.
"Call me oan th' morrow an' let me ken whit yer daein'." remarked Freya.
"Will do, talk to you later!" declared Roger as he ended the call.
Next, they rigged up a couple of floating platforms and began working on the engines while Eduardo and Pedro visited a doctor to get his wound examined.
The doctor looked over Pedro's wound and cleaned it a bit with disinfectant before applying a fresh bandage.
While Roger and Henri dismantled the carburetors for cleaning, Eduardo and Pedro scrounged up several large glass bottles and siphon hoses, these were rigged into a crude filtration system using finely woven cloth to catch the grit and alcohol was added to the gasoline, to absorb the water that couldn't be separated with a settling tank.
A number of young kids had gathered to watch them toiling on the strange airplane that had landed on the lake.
Some of them brought their protesting mothers with them to see the strange airplane at the dock.
Before long, Eduardo had charmed a couple of the local wives into bringing them food in exchange for some hard cash.
They ate very well indeed.
Roger and Henri finished cleaning the carburetors and carefully reinstalled them, checking and double checking each other's work, just to make sure nothing was missed.
Eduardo and Pedro meanwhile, had drained the fuel tanks into some 55 gallon fuel drums and were cleaning out any remaining grit and water residue.
Three long days later, after another careful check on their work.
They began the labor of refilling the fuel tanks, one five gallon bucket at a time, poured slowly through a rigged up filter just to make doubly certain the gas was clean.
When all the gas was back in the tanks they took a breather, washed up, ate a meal and relaxed a little while.
Next was going to be starting up the engines and making sure they'd run when needed.
The small APU was started up and let run to charge the batteries to their full potential.
The tools were cleaned and put back while all the glass bottles and barrels were returned to their owners.
That afternoon, after a final check and a shooing away of the curious onlookers.
Roger hit the starter switch on the left side engine, it churned and churned and coughed thick, oily smoke, before the huge cylinders began waking up and it ran on its own.
The small crowd cheered and shouted encouragement as the engine ran smoothly, the huge propeller, a blur.
The right side engine was nearly a repeat of the left engine's performance, only it took a bit more fiddling with the carburetor settings to get it to wake up and run smoothly.
Roger and Henri took the plane out onto the lake, and made a few high speed taxi runs before bringing it back to the dock and the wildly enthusiastic crowd awaiting them.
They would leave in the morning, while the lake was quiet and not filled with large ships and small boats.
The dawn's first rays fell upon Roger Tate and Company, casting off the mooring lines to the plane and using long bamboo poles to push the plane away from the dock where it had been moored for the last four days.
Out on the lake, a small flotilla of canal Zone Patrol boats had formed a clear lane for them to take off in.
Outside of this lane, the curious sat in their boats or lined the rails of the ships to watch the take off.
Roger looked out over this spectacle and commented, "Jeeze, you'd think they'd never seen a seaplane taking off before? Willya look at that crowd?"
Pedro grinned at him from the co-pilot's seat and replied, "If nothing else, we've given them something to talk about for a few days at least!"
Roger laughed and retorted, "I find that to to be strangely comforting, somehow."
Taking one last look-see to make sure everything was clear, Roger pushed the starter switch and within a few minutes, the left engine was rumbling at a steady idle.
The right engine soon followed suit and they ran through the preflight checks before easing up the throttles and taxiing the bulky airplane into place.
Roger throttled up the engines and the Hamilton Standard variable pitch propellers did the rest.
At full power, the bulky Martin Mariner surged forward, quickly gathering speed until it was barely skimming the lake's smooth surface.
Roger eased back on the controls and the plane slipped the surly bonds of earth as it climbed into the brightening dawn sky.
Roger gently banked the seaplane and circled the cheering crowds down below to say 'thanks for your hospitality!'.
Then he headed northerly towards Belize and the airport there.
To his amazement he smelled cooking, then he remembered there was a small galley with a two burner electric stove on the Martin Mariner and Henri had gotten loose in it.
A few minutes later, the aroma of fresh coffee wafted into the cockpit and Roger bellowed, "There had better be a cup of java with my name on it!"
Moments later, Henri appeared with a steaming mug of a dark liquid in his hand, he handed it to Roger with a grin and said, "I could not find ze cup wiz your name on it, will zhis do?" "I'll manage!" replied Roger with a grin.
A few minutes later Henri reappeared with a compartmented metal tray laden with freshly scrambled eggs, potatoes and bacon.
He handed it to Roger with the comment, "You Americains wiz your lousy taste in food!" He ducked back down, only to reappear with another tray he handed to Pedro, it was laden with a typical Brazilian breakfast of some fruit, a sweetroll, a variety of cheeses and black coffee.
It was about noon when Pedro called ahead on the radio to let the airport officials know they were coming and to have fuel on hand for them.
Thirty minutes later, they entered the traffic pattern for the airport and followed the other aircraft in a big circular pattern above the Belize City Municipal Air Port.
The landing gear came down without a hitch and before long, the sudden squeal and rumbling of the tires announced their arrival.
Once they had parked the airplane and shut down the engines, they inspected the fuel filters and sediment taps, to their satisfaction both were clean.
The fuel truck arrived and with it, a customs official who smiled and asked, "Are you planning on leaving the airport? If so, do you have anything to declare?"
Roger smiled at him and replied, "If we do leave the airport, it will be to buy food for our next flight, as we're leaving in the morning."
The man grinned and replied, "So long as you don't bring anything from the airport, you are free to go get food and welcome to Belize!"
Eduardo supervised the refueling closely, carefully watching the flow of fuel into the tanks onboard the airplane, his only comment to the fuel truck driver was, "We had engine trouble from the last fuel we got in Trinidad, it was full of sediment and cloudy with water."
The driver remarked, "I'm not surprised, the gas was probably a bit old too, they don't sell much Avgas 100 down there."
Eduardo muttered, "We ended up landing on Gatun Lake to everyone's amusement and spent four days straining gas and cleaning carburetors."
The driver laughed and remarked, "So, it was you guys we heard about! It was quite the landing, or so I heard."
Eduardo shrugged and said, "You could say that."
The driver grinned and asked, "So, where to next?"
Eduardo replied, Our next flight is a long hop to Texas and some flight museum there."
Looking over the bulky Martin Mariner, the driver commented, "Is this going to be in a museum?"
"I think they're going to do some refurbishing and recertification for airworthyness." replied Eduardo.
The driver said quietly, "You mean this thing isn't certified? You guys are really nuts ya know."
Eduardo merely shrugged in reply and the driver said, "Welp, it was good knowin' you, good luck!"
They spent the rest of the day studying the maps and relaxing.
With the engines now running smoothly, it was felt the flight would be mostly boring.
Still, they reinspected the plane yet one more time.
Roger took a little time to call Freya. "Hello?"
"Hi sweetie! I just wanted to say hi before tomorrow's flight. We're heading for Texas and should be there by late afternoon, early evening." said Roger.
"That's verra guid an' yoo'll cam get me after ye get haem?" she asked.
"Just as soon as I can, after getting back to Portland!" he answered.
"Ah'll be awaitin' yer call." she replied before pausing and saying quietly, "Ah really dae miss ye, its too quiet aroun' here."
Roger smiled and replied, "I miss you too, dear."
Next he called the Commemorative Flight Museum in Addison, Texas.
When he finally got through to the muesum director and refreshed his memory, the man chuckled and said, "I kinda figured I'd be hearing from y'all about now, where're y'all at?"
Roger replied, "We are at the Belize City Municipal Airport. We are all gassed up and waiting to leave at first light."
There was a pause and the director replied, "If my memory hasn't gone south, I figure y'all should be able to make it here in one flight. That way, I can have federal paperwork all ready for the hardware we talked about earlier."
"That would be very nice, we've avoided getting a going over by not leaving any airports we landed at. We only stopped to get fuel and some sleep."
The director chuckled and remarked, "That's one way to keep the federales from snooping around, even if y'all didn't have any fun."
Roger replied, "Believe me, we had plenty of things to occupy us during this trip...I'll tell you all about it when we get there."
Roger heard a chuckle and the director asked drily, "Will it be a two drink tale? "
Roger laughed and replied, "It'll be a real bender of a tale!"
"I'd better stock up then! Catch y'all when y'get here tomorrow evening!" replied the director as he ended the call.
In the gray light of predawn, Roger and crew did a final walk around of the big Martin Mariner.
Oil and gas levels were checked and rechecked and checked again.
Taking their seats once more, Pedro and Eduardo each said a silent prayer for a safe flight. Meanwhile, Roger and Henri went through the final preflights before starting the engines. Fifteen minutes later, the air was filled with the roar of a pair of fourteen cylinder Wright Cyclone engines as the bulky seaplane rose into the growing light of day and headed north. Leveling off at 5,000 feet, Roger and Henri settled in for a long flight ahead with one eye kept on the intruments and the other eye watching for other aircraft until they got farther out to sea and the coast hugging, smaller aircraft were no longer a problem to watch for.
Hours later, as they approached the coast of Texas, USA Roger picked up the radio beacon frequency for the flight museum and began following it.
A Texas air national guard jet flew close by and Roger waved at the pilot as he flew alongside the lumbering seaplane.
The radio squawked "What is your destination? Over."
Roger picked up the microphone to reply, "We are headed to the Commemorative Flight Museum in Addison, Texas. They are expecting us. Over."
The pilot gave him a 'thumbs up' sign and banked his jet to pull away from them.
Henri chuckled and commented, "Zhat was almost too easy."
Roger grinned at his old friend and retorted, "This thing's at near maximum speed and he was nearly at his stall speed, how would we possibly evade him?"