Viewing page 12 of 90

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

3

but with a most tremendous splash.  As soon as the passengers had climbed out the top and across to the landing, a swarm of mechanics with huge tins of fuel began to bustle all over the outside of the plane.  The airport had several breezy open rooms, and a carefully locked street door.  We could see Cienfuegos through the windows, and across the water from the landing.  Sent a card to Lucy, and in a few minutes the gong called us out to climb down inside the plane, and we roared out into the harbor and up into the air,  The steward brought us square open boxes of lunch, one at a time as he arranged them --- hot bouillon, sandwiches, boiled egg, cold chicken, fruit cup and cake.  There was more of the play of color on the water, but no boats; we saw almost no sign of shipping from the time we were out of sight of Florida.
Just a tiny corner of Jamaica could be seen before the steward came around and fitted a big black disk into each window ("In cooperation with the British Government").  We rocked and plunged to the water, seeing nothing.  The airport was breezy, but much hotter than Cienfuegos.  Nothing was to be seen on the water in that far corner of the harbor, and nothing on land behind the airport, except the high wire fence and the thick jungle of dark trees behind it.
A hostess was waiting, with a tray of Planter's Punches and lemonade to offer the passenders; she proved to be Madeleine Hodge who knows Mrs. Wooler and Mrs. Dignum and had news of them.
Disks were still in the windows as we took off, and were not removed until we were out of sight of Jamaica. The sun was hot, and the straight-backed seats seemed to get stiffer.  The steward's cup of chilled fruit-juice made us all feel better. We were due in Barranquilla at five, and were only a little late in spite of the delays at Miami, and the long wide detour inland before we finally came down in the landlocked waters of the Barranquilla airport.  We climbed stiffly out, gave up our passports as we stepped to the landing, and were marshalled around the edge of the water and across the terrace waiting room. In the entrance to the airport office two small dark officials sat at two little tables to inspect papers, and each passenger had to be passed by both. At the long baggage counter we met the U. S. Vice Consul Henry Dearborn (from Andover), who was looking for us. He put our baggage through without inspection, and drove us in his car to the hotel, El Prado. Our room opened from an out-door corridor, and had trade-wind gales blowing through the windows on opposite walls, just as described in Kathleen Romoli's book. On the lobby terrace we sat down for awhile with Mr. Hoover, then went to the dining-room with Mr. Dearborn and dined at his