How I nearly came unstuck in Madeira

FURTHER to other readers’ memories of their first flights (Peterborough), I was 17 and a junior officer on one of Union Castle Line’s Royal Mail Steamers. After falling badly ill, I thought I was going to die. I was put ashore on the beautiful island of Madeira to recover at company expense, luxuriating in the most lavish hotel on the island — bliss! After six weeks, the company agent decided that I should fly back to Blighty. In those far-flung days, Madeira did not have an airport. What it did have was Aquila Airways, which operated second-hand Short Solent flying boats that flew two or three times a week from Madeira to Southampton. This barely recuperated sickly teenager was ferried out with around 18 other souls into Funchal Bay. The sea was flat calm. The captain spoke over the Tannoy and told us that because there were no waves, the liner — as he called it — may have trouble unsticking itself from the surface tension. He would make his first run and attempt take-off, but we were not to worry if it didn’t work, it was standard procedure and our first attempt would make sufficient waves to enable a successful launch on the second run. The engines made a deafening roar and he gave it full throttle for a couple of miles. As he predicted, we couldn’t get airborne, the throttle shut down and this flying pig slumped and lurched forward and down to near standstill, then turned into our wake, engines roaring flat out and pop . . . we shot into the air. Again, I thought I was going to die. Not only that, when I looked at the faces of the other passengers and cabin crew, they thought so, too!

James Clark, Wellingborough, Northants.