Unforeseen Events  Book II ~ Part VI

Fire stormed through the Anagama kiln as Pierre fed wood into the portholes. An autumn breeze cooled the evening air while sounds of a hooting owl gave way to those of approaching footsteps.

“Hello Pierre,” said Sally.

“Bonsoir mon ami.”

“How are you tonight?”

“Celebrating.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“I have an assignment from Time International. “

“Wonderful. What about?”

“Viet Nam.”

“You’re going there?”

“Next week.”

“Does Carmen know?”

“I do,” said Carmen as she approached.

“Darling,” said Pierre.

“Hello Carmen,” said Sally. 

“Hola chica. What do think of our war corespondent?”

“Will it be dangerous?” said Sally.

“Life is dangerous,” said Pierre.

“Must you go there?” said Carmen.

“My dear I was born there.”

“I know.”

“Well?”

“No reason to get yourself killed by the Viet Minh.”

“I’m not going there to get myself killed, and it’s the Viet Cong.”

“Can we change the subject?” said Sally.

“Good idea,” said Pierre. “Have you seen Ethan, I mean recently?”

“I haven’t,” said Sally. “I think he’s spending time with some old beachcomber south of town.”

“That’s old Ned,” said Carmen. “Ethan told me about meeting him a while back. Apparently they’ve become fast friends”

“Who’s old Ned?” said Sally

“He’s a British nobleman,” said Carmen. “The Honorable Edward Harcourt, second son of the 17th Earl of Sussex.”

“You know him?” said Sally.

“We have history.”

“He’s a strange chap,” said Pierre, “with a mysterious past.”

“C’mon Pierre he’s not that mysterious,” said Carmen.

“What’s he doing in Spain?” said Sally.

“Living at peace, I suppose,” said Carmen. “He’s a casualty of primogeniture.”

“Primo what?” said Sally.

“He is the second son,” said Carmen. “It’s a British thing. His big brother gets the fortune, the estate, the lands, the titles… and he gets a door prize.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s because you’re an American.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“To look at him you’d think so,” said Carmen. “He’s an imposing figure with a grim visage. But he’s a softie, and at heart a decent fellow. I expect Ethan will learn a thing or two from the old guy.”

“How do you know him?”

“Ben came here from England seven years ago, shortly after his wife died. When I first met him he was desolate. They’d been married for many years and he loved her completely. We’d known each other awhile when we got involved, but it didn’t work out.”

“What happened?” said Sally.

“It always felt like there were three of us.”

“You mean his wife?”

“I mean I’m not opposed to a ménage a trois. I’ve had a few. But when number three is a ghost, well… what can I say?”

The vintage biplane flew over Gibraltar as it crossed the Mediterranean into the skies of Morocco. In the open cockpit, Ethan sat in the front seat, looking around wide eyed at the desert landscape below. Piloting the plane in the rear seat was old Ned, fifty-six year old Edward William Arthur Harcourt who was a seasoned aviator. Once over North Africa Ned turned the plane southeast toward the foothills of the Rif Mountain Range. 

The afternoon sun was low in the sky when they landed at a remote airstrip on the southern slopes of Jebel Musa. Three men in Berber dress rode up to the plane on camels. They brought two more of the beasts for Ned and Ethan to join them. The two men deplaned, each carrying a small pack. From the airstrip the group rode the camels into a box canyon where there was an encampment filled with two score of tents surrounded by countless goats and camels. In the diffuse light of a rosy sunset, evening fires began to light up all over the camp. The travelers were greeted by the aged Berber chieftain, Musa ibn Nusayr, dressed in elegant robes.

“Hello my friend,” said the old man.

“And greetings to you my friend,” said Ned.

The camels kneeled to the ground. Ned and Ethan got out of their saddles. Ethan was speechless from what he was experiencing. He felt like he had stepped onto another planet. 

“What’s for dinner?” said Ned.

Inside a large well furnished tent, seven men sat in a circle on an ornate carpet. Sitting upon a cushion, ibn Nusayr was the host of the gathering and leader of the encamped tribe. He was fluent in five languages, including English. In addition to Ethan and Ned the other four men included an American, Andrew Greene, the Englishman Michael Chantler, William Tanner from Scotland and the German Manfred Becker. Chantler served with Ned in the RAF during World War Two. Becker was a fighter pilot in the German Luftwaffe. Tanner and Greene were mining engineers who worked on digs all over the world. 

In the late Forties these men had bonded when they shared a lifeboat for thirty four days. This occurred after the ship they were on sank during a violent storm in the mid-Atlantic. Over the years they occasionally reunited on October 10th, which was the day of their rescue from the sea.  

Ned raised his glass of tea saying, “First I wish to thank Sidi Musa for providing this occasion.”

“Here, here,” said Greene.

“Sidi Musa!” declared Becker.

“Sidi Musa!” declared them all.

In response Sidi Musa ibn Nusayr raised his glass. “To all my friends,” he said.

“Introduce us to your friend,” said Tanner.

“Oh yes… gentlemen, this is Ethan Wells. He’s a fine young fellow who is now traveling the world.” Ethan smiled and nodded towards the others who made affirming gestures in return.

Two young women brought plates and bowls of food, setting them in the middle of the circle. 

Musa scooped morsels from the different serving dishes, putting them on his plate. “Don’t be shy gentlemen,” he said, gesturing towards the various plates and bowls. The others proceeded to help themselves.

“How do you know this fellow?” said Greene to Ned.

“He came to Spain a few months ago and we struck up a friendship. He’s kind of like a son I never had.”

Ethan looked surprised at that comment. 

“How about it,” said Chantler, “do you think of Ned as a father?”

“Well I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Oh you’re American,” said Greene. “When did you leave the States?” 

“Over a year ago.”

“He spent the year before that traveling all over America with a rock band,” said Ned.

“Oh really,” said Tanner. “What do you play, Ethan?”

“I’m a drummer, and it was actually a dance band.”

“I hope you have stories for us,” said Chantler.

“Yah,” said Becker, “tell us something of your travels in America.”

“Goodness,” said Ethan. “Where to start?’

“Did you meet any famous Americans?” said Tanner.

Ethan thought for a moment and then made a gesture pointing upwards with his right index finger. “About two years ago I checked into a hotel in Philadelphia. It was late in the evening and there was no one in the lobby except the desk clerk and myself. Then an older man walked into the lobby.” 

“How old?” said Chantler.

“Oh, maybe sixty.”

“Old to you,” said Sidi Musa. Ethan paused.

“Go on,” said Ben.

“The man was Johnny Weismuller. He was also checking in. If you remember, he was an Olympic gold medalist and the Tarzan actor in the movies.”

The others nodded with anticipation.

“The three of us had a friendly conversation and he told a story about an incident that occurred at a resort in Las Vegas a few years before.” 

“As was my habit,” said Weismuller, “I got up at dawn and went down to the hotel pool for a swim. It was 6AM in the morning and I was about to dive in when a night watchman came up to me and said, ‘Mister you can’t swim here.’

‘Why not?’ I said.

‘Nobody goes in that pool without a lifeguard present’ said the old guy.

He was a crotchety old geezer and I indignantly replied, ‘Sir, do you know who I am?’ 

The old guy said, ‘Hell no I don’t know who you are.’ 

Then I had to think fast, said Weismuller, so I said, ‘I’m the new lifeguard!'”

The others laughed with delight.

“How is it you came to Spain?” said Greene.

“Oh God, that’s a long story.”

“Give us the broad strokes.”

“Okay… I left the band in New Orleans, burned out I suppose. Then by chance I was hired onto a freighter going from New Orleans to Rio de Janiero. From there I got on another ship bound for Buenos Aires. Then on yet another ship I crossed the Atlantic to Capetown. After that I made my way by land up to Kenya where I got really sick.”

“What were you sick with?” said Becker.

“Beats me. For a month I laid on a cot in a native hut. I was completely delirious until I wasn’t, and then I was on my feet again.”

“Sounds like malaria,” said Chantler.

“Maybe. Anyway when I was good to travel I got myself down to Mombassa where I hired onto a tramp steamer that ranged from there to Malaga. That was a three month voyage. I’ve been living in Mijas now for about six months.”

“How did you meet Ned?” said Chantler. 

“I ran into Ned a couple months ago and we seemed to have a lot to talk about. I especially enjoy his stories.”

“In the end,” said Sidi Musa, “all we really have is our stories.” 

There was silence for a few moments.

“Ned I saw your biplane when you overflew the camp,” said Becker. “When did you get it?”

“About six months ago. I bought it at an auction in Milan.”

“What’d they get for it?” said Chantler.

“Just under three grand.”

“In Sterling?”

“In US dollars.”

“Why did you buy an old biplane?” said Tanner.

“Nostalgia I suppose. This one’s a Stearman, built in Forty-three. The Americans used it in the war as a spotter plane. Flying it takes me back to the Gypsy Moth I flew in the Thirties.” 

“The one you had in Palestine.” said Chantler.

“Yah. Have I told this story?”

“Bits and pieces,” said Greene. “What’d you do with that Gypsy Moth?”

“I partnered up with an American pilot, a Jewish fellow named Freddie Katz. He also had a Gypsy Moth and we formed a company to provide airmail service. For a couple years we flew airmail from Haifa to Alexandria. That was in what, Thirty-six and Thirty-seven.”

“Kinda risky, wasn’t it? said Greene. “Flying over the open sea with no place to land.”

“Actually we flew along the coastlines, making stops in Jaffa, Port Said and Alexandria. Freddie and I each had a few close calls, but nothing we couldn’t walk away from. And we were young.”

The conversation went on into the night. Late in the evening, Ethan asked Sidi Musa if he could take pictures around the camp with his Argus C3 camera. Musa said he could as long as he asked permission from whoever he might photograph. 

In the morning, Ben emerged from Sidi Musa’s tent at dawn to find Ethan asleep on the sand next to a campfire. An old Berber woman was watching over him. Ben walked up to Ethan and with his boot tapped the bottom of Ethan’s shoes. He awoke, looking up at Ben.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” said Ben.

“Oh?”

“It’s time to go.”

Getting to his feet Ethan said, “I could stay here for awhile.”

“So could I, but people are expecting me back in Malaga.”

Flying at low altitudes, the flight back to Spain took an hour and a half.

Early the next morning Ethan rode into the plaza on a motorcycle he had acquired. There he encountered Sally. 

“How long have you had this?” she said.

“A couple months.” 

“Has it been that long since I saw you?” 

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I had it for a while without letting anybody know that I had it.”

“Why was that?”

“I don’t know why. Y’know? I really don’t know why.”

“Well… don’t beat yourself up. I’m just glad to see you. Really.”

“We should go for a ride sometime,” he said. 

“I’d like that.”

The two of them gazed at each other in silence.

“Hop on.” he said.

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To all the readers. At this time, the story of Ethan Wells’ search for romance and adventure will go on hiatus. These have been the first 13 chapters of a 50+ chapter novel that is yet to be finished and published. When the book is finished there’ll be a publication notice on this blog. Please feel free to leave any comments on the window below or the CONTACT page of this website.