The Man who Missed the War by Dennis Wheatley Page A

the afternoon of the 11th Eiderman ‘phoned to say that he had just had a report in from the ‘Met’ people, who predicted fair to strong winds from the southeast for the next four to six days, and Philip agreed to sail that night.
    There was little packing left to be done, but Lexie insisted on going upstairs to help him with his bag and, when it was done, collapsed on the bed in floods of tears. Sitting down beside her, Philip somewhat awkwardly put an arm round her shoulders and drew her dark, curly head towards his. This was the first occasion on which he had ever held a weeping girl in his arms, and he felt considerably embarrassed, but he told her that he liked her much better than anyone else he had ever met, that he was not really going into danger, that he would send her a cable the very moment he arrived in England, and that, as soon as his business there was settled, he would be coming back to New York to arrange another convoy.
    She cheered up a little then, and after she had dried her eyes they kissed and hugged each other, and both agreed that theyhad been the most frightful fools to waste such countless opportunities during the past three months when they might have done the same thing. He said how wonderful her hair smelt, so she gave him the ribbon from it which he put away carefully in his pocket-book. Then Lexie bathed her eyes and they went downstairs, slightly pink of face.
    Jean was away from home dining in the country that evening; but Mrs. Foorde-Bilson produced, as by a miracle, three of Philip’s favourite dishes for dinner. Then she and Lexie accompanied him in their car, through the late dusk of the summer evening, across Jersey City and the river-ferry to the dock where the S.S.
Regenskuld
was moored.
    Eiderman was waiting for him with an apology for Thorssen’s absence. It appeared that the Norwegian had been prevented at the last moment from coming to see Philip off. Eiderman then announced his intention of going on the
Regenskuld
to see the Raft Convoy actually cast off in the ocean, and after Philip had made his farewells to Lexie and her mother the two men went on board.
    The ship’s master, Captain Sorensen, received them on the quarter-deck and took them to his own day cabin, which he placed at their disposal; then he showed them two sleeping cabins in which bunks had been prepared for them, as it was proposed that the
Regenskuld
should not cast off her tow until six o’clock the following morning, when she would be well out in the open sea.
    It was just after ten o’clock when she left the dockside, drawing the launch after her, while five tugs followed in procession, each towing two of the rafts, the port authorities having stipulated that this arrangement should be followed, as a reasonable precaution against the rafts fouling other shipping in the crowded harbour.
    While still in the dock Philip and Eiderman had been standing in their shirt-sleeves on account of the torrid heat, but after passing the Statue of Liberty they struck a light breeze which forced them to put on their coats. Captain Sorensen remarked as they did so that to him it smelt like rain. Philip assumed that he was thinking of a thunderstorm, as the night was extraordinarily sultry, but otherwise clear, and looking back he could discern the molten silver of the foam churned up by the tugsglistening in the reflected glow of the million lighted windows of Manhattan’s skyscrapers.
    Eiderman had attended to all the clearance papers on Philip’s behalf, and for the best part of an hour they were busy in the cabin while these were being checked and handed over. When they came out on deck again the
Regenskuld
had passed the Narrows and was slowing down so that the tugs could come up with her and begin the complicated procedure of stringing the rafts into a single line. Though there seemed to be endless fussing to and fro and almost continuous hooting for a long time, they actually made a good job of it and had the