replied the young messenger, who had been sent to find me.
Very unwillingly I went to the telephone to hear a pleasant masculine voice say,
“Hello. You don’t know me, but my name is Railey—Captain H. H. Railey.”
Without much more introduction he asked me if I should be interested in doing something for aviation which might be hazardous. Of course, I asked him more about who he was and why he picked me, and what the hazardous undertaking was. This last he wouldn’t tell.
Finally, after he had furnished excellent references, and reasons for calling, I made an appointment to see him at his office that very evening. Curiosity is a great starter.
My meeting that night with Captain Railey, who was subsequently in charge of the business affairs of Admiral Byrd’s Antarctic Expedition, was very interesting. He told me that a woman had planned to make a transatlantic flight, but for various personal reasons had abandoned the idea of going herself. She still, however, wanted an American to be the first of her sex to cross the ocean by air.
“I might as well lay the cards on the table,” finally said Captain Railey. “Would you fly the Atlantic?”
I thought one minute and said,
“Yes,—if.” There were still many “if’s” in the situation. Captain Railey told me, so I needn’t
