And The Twain Shall Meet. Jason Hill

      Chapter 2

      Saturday, October 19

      I

      Friday night had passed much too quickly. Saturday, their first day of separation could no longer be ignored. It appeared to be yet another fine day in the recent string of several of them. The ceiling and visibility were unlimited, to put it in airman’s terms. The temperature was in the middle forties heading for a promised fifty-nine by afternoon. This was an ideal day for Phil to begin his island adventure.

      With a good breakfast under their belts, Phil, Jana, and Fritz left for the airport where they would bid adieu for the next two weeks. It was a difficult parting for Jana and Phil. They were both thinking of some the many things that could go wrong in the environment he was heading to. As they embraced by the Baron, neither wanted to let go.

      After a quick farewell and thanks to Fritz, Phil climbed into his seat and prepared to leave. Since the preflight had gone well and the tanks were full, he wondered why he felt apprehensive. He spotted Jana looking better than any other women he had ever met and was delighted to realize that they belonged to each other. He was somewhat shattered to think he was leaving her behind, even for a little while. This was going to be harder than he had anticipated, but maybe a little distance would be a good thing for their almost-perfect relationship, as long as it would be only for a short time. While trying to clear his mind of these last-minute insecurities, he gave her one final tender look, blew her a kiss, fired up the engines, and called the tower for instructions before he could change his mind.

      The breeze had switched around during the night by almost 180 degrees, so he was directed to runway 23. After getting airborne, he requested and was granted a straight-out departure, which pointed him for home without having to fly the usual traffic pattern. The ride was uneventful. He was back on the ground at 10:45. By then, he was thinking mostly of the drive ahead of him to the eastern shore of Lake Huron and looking forward to it.

      Phil was surprised to see the entire PD Express fleet lined up on the ramp while their big hangar was getting a thorough scrubbing down. The old reliable Twin Beech was parked next to the always fun Aero Commander. Next in line was the Queen Air, which brought back memories of his honeymoon, brief as it had been, and then Phil’s favorite for small work, the Bonanza. It had seen him through some trying times in years past, though it wasn’t used much anymore for charters except for those trips to Canada with Jim Bellingham because the landing conditions there were so limited. He uses it now mostly as an inexpensive way to flit around to inspect potential purchases for resale. The last grouping consisted of the newly acquired Piper Twin Comanche and the pair of old J-3 Cubs used for training new students. It was impressive to see them all in a row dressed in their distinctive blue, blue, blue, and white PD color schemes. This was the first time in a long while that they were all home at the same time—a rare event.

      His partner was on hand to greet him.

      “What do you think of our little lineup?” he asked. “It’s a sight we don’t often see, but then they don’t do us much good when they’re all on the ground. You know, I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s time to make some changes. The G-18 (Twin Beech) has been with us since we started this enterprise. She’s given us years of good service and made a lot of money for us, but it may be time to retire the old girl while we can still get a good buck for her. I’ve been looking around for a few weeks. I found a turbo prop Beech King Air in Des Moines with low hours and at a price that could fit into our plans. It would mean we would have to put in a new tank for jet fuel, but we may have to do that in any event with all the corporate jets now in use. That’s another direction we may have to consider before long just to keep up with the competition. Billy and his boys could turn the interior of King into something very special if they get their hands on it.”

      “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind, Don. You know you don’t need my approval on things like that. I’m sure you remember when I bought the Queen Air out in Vegas without your input. Sometimes speed is of the essence with no time to procrastinate. That turned out well, didn’t it? If we couldn’t trust each other by now, we’d have a big problem, agreed? It sounds like a good deal to me, but right now I’m on vacation, so do whatever you think is best. I won’t be flying at all for a couple of weeks. At this moment, that feels better than you can imagine. By the way, before I forget, you should be hearing from Tom Humphrey while I’m gone. It’s very likely he’ll be joining our team as soon as his current contract expires, which is next week. Right now, I want to get started on my break from the real day-to-day world.”

      They said their goodbyes. Don wished Phil the best on his journey into the wilderness.

      His BMW was waiting for him with a full tank. His luggage, one large bag with everything he anticipated he would need, was already in the trunk. His plan was to drive to Port Huron today, then on up the Bruce Peninsula to Tobormory tomorrow. There he would board a prearranged air taxi to take him the final few miles to Fitzwilliam Island. Without further ado, his exodus had begun, not knowing exactly what he would encounter when he arrives at his ultimate destination. So far the weather was cooperating, but who could tell? Changes can come abruptly in the northern reaches.

      II

      Saturday dawned too soon for Hans and Miep as well. They had spent a good portion of the night talking about the trip facing him, and consequently, neither got much sleep. Miep was more than a little apprehensive about it even though she had no concrete reason to feel that way. The Jammison is a stout ship that has always answered the call whenever any sign of trouble arose. The crew was mostly tried and true veterans of many difficult events the lakes had thrown their way over the years. The weather reports were still good, but the fall season could be more unpredictable than predictable. It was during the fall that the Bradley had gone down in Lake Michigan and the Edmund Fitzgerald in Lake Superior. Both of them were nearly as large as Hans’s command.

      All things considered, Miep should not have felt uneasy, but she had a nagging concern for her man and his vessel. After all they’d been through together to get to this point in their lives, she could not bear to think that anything would go wrong on Hans’s final voyage. She tried her best to let it go, but she could not. Something deep inside said she had no cause to worry, but she could not get a handle on her nerves. The best she could do now was to remind herself that it would all be over in a few days. She sincerely hoped that then she would feel foolish for having had any doubts.

      Since they were running a bit late Hans suggested that it would be best if they left right away for the dock. He would be able to get breakfast on board while making sure all was in readiness for his last sojourn over the waves. With the sun shining brightly on a day that promised nothing but good things, they arrived at the Cleveland and Pittsburgh dock at the foot of Forty-Fifth Street. Hans hated it when anyone was late, worst of all, he himself. He took it as a bad omen.

      Miep and Hans said their so-longs with more than their usual ardor. No logical thought process could erase their concerns. After one final tender embrace, he tore himself away, walked rapidly to his ship, and climbed aboard, making every effort to clear his mind of everything except his duty to the Jammison, his crew, and the owners who entrusted him with command, Trans-Lake Shipping Corporation.

      As he strode briskly up the deck to the pilothouse, he watched the three deckhands working feverishly with their hatch wrenches, resecuring the clamps on the eighteen hold covers prior to setting sail. While he recognized two of them, Eric Hinsch and Vince Gambowski, the third was a new face. Eric told him that the other regular, Tom Lewis, had a family emergency and was forced to stay at home. The new man was Pete Francis, who came highly recommended by his previous employer. This was not too unusual, but, for some reason, Hans took it for just another bad sign.

      Upon arriving at his post in the forward