ACROSS THE ATLANTIC WITH THE FRIENDSHIP
WHEN the Friendship finally got off at Boston, she was headed straight up the coast for Newfoundland. There, at Trepassey, we intended to take on a supply of gasoline which had been stored in advance, why or for whom no one knew.
Owing to local weather it was impossible to go farther than Halifax the first day. More fog. We came down through a hole in it and put in at the harbor. News of our destination had leaked out at Boston soon after our departure, and in the Nova Scotia hotel where we spent the night, I had my first taste of the “inquiring reporter” who inquired so persistently that sleep was impossible.
In our brief stay at Halifax, we suffered a bit from holidayitis. In the first place it was Sunday. Then, as I remember, it was Orchard Day, and the birthday of the King, to boot. Everybody was away celebrating so that getting fuel proved an acute problem. But get it we finally did and as the day was gorgeously clear with a fine following wind, we were able to take off about nine. Indeed weather conditions were so nearly ideal that had it not been necessary to refuel, we should have passed Newfoundland by entirely and continued on our way eastward.
In Trepassey there was plenty of trouble. Weather and mechanical difficulties combined to
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