Windfall

Half an hour later Hunt said, 'Don't worry; you'll get your breakfast.' They got into a Land-Rover and Hunt drove out of the College grounds and up a winding unsurfaced road which ran next to the chain-link fence. 'The wind is perfect,' he said. 'I think "I'll be able to take you through Hell's Gate. Have you ever been up in a balloon before?'

'No, I haven't.' Stafford did not mention that the suggestion that he go through Hell's Gate on a first flight made him feel decidedly queasy.

Hunt swung off the road and the Land-Rover bumped across open bush country. 'Here we are."

Stafford got out of the Land-Rover stiffly and saw Judy about fifty yards away, standing next to what appeared to be a laundry basket. 'Is she coming, too?' '

'Yes; she operates the camera.', They walked over to her, and she said, 'Hi! Had breakfast?' Stafford shook his head. 'Good! Breakfast is better after a flight.'

He inspected the 'laundry basket' and found it was the thing they stood in while being wafted through the air. Judy was right; it was indubitably better to have breakfast after the flight. Stafford was not scared of many things but he did have a fear of heights. He was prepared to climb a cliff but nothing would ever get him close to the edge while walking at the top. Not an unusual phobia. He wondered how he was going to acquit himself during the next couple of hours.

The edge of the basket was padded with suede, and from each corner rose a pillar, the pillars supporting a complicated contraption of stainless steel piping in two coils which was, Stafford supposed, the burner which heated the air. Beyond the basket the multi-coloured balloon envelope was laid out on the ground. It was bigger than he expected and looked flimsy. Four black Kenyans were stretching it out and straightening wire ropes.

He turned to Hunt. 'It's bigger than I expected.' He didn't mention the flimsiness.

'She's a Cameron N-84. That means she's 84,000 cubic feet in volume. When she's inflated the height from the floor of the basket to the crown of the balloon is over 60 feet.'

'What's the fabric?'

'Close weave nylon treated with polyurethane to close the pores. This envelope is nearly new; the old one became too porous and I was losing air and efficiency. It's the ultraviolet that does it, of course. Even though the fabric is specially treated the sun gets it in the end. A balloon doesn't last nearly as long here as it would in England. I'll give the boys a hand.'

Hunt walked forward and began checking rigging. Stafford turned to see Judy. working on the basket. She was clamping a big plate camera on to the side. 'Can I help?'

She smiled. 'I've just finished. We'll be leaving in ten minutes.'

'So soon?' He looked at the flaccid nylon envelope and wondered how.

Hunt came back. 'All right; let's get this thing into the air. Lucas, get the fan. Chuma, you're for the crown rope. You others start flapping.' He turned to Stafford. 'Max, you help us get the basket on its side, slow and easy.'

They tipped the basket over so that the burners pointed to the balloon. Two Kenyans were flapping the nylon, driving air into the envelope. It billowed enormously in slow waves and visibly expanded. Lucas came behind with the fan; it was like an over-sized electric fan but driven by a small Honda petrol engine. The engine sputtered and then caught with a roar, driving air into the balloon.

Hunt got into the basket and crouched behind the burners. He lit the pilot flames and then tilted the burners towards the balloon. 'All right, Lucas,' he said, raising his voice above the noise of the fan. 'Join Chuma on the crown rope. Judy and Max to the basket.'

Stafford and Judy stood on each side of the basket. He did not know what to do but was prepared to follow her lead. The balloon was filling rapidly and suddenly there was a growling, deep-throated roar and a blue flame, six feet long and nearly a foot in diameter, shot into the open throat of the balloon. It took Stafford by surprise and he started, then looked towards Judy. She was laughing so he grinned back weakly.

The roar went on and on, and the balloon expanded like a blossoming flower caught in time-lapse photography. Hunt switched off the flame, and one of the Kenyans turned off the fan and there was blessed silence. Hunt looked up as the ballon rose above them. 'All hands to the basket,' he said, and sent another burst of flame into the balloon.

The two Kenyans joined Stafford and Judy as the basket began to stir like a live thing. Slowly it began to tilt upright as the flame poured heat into the envelope. Hunt switched off again, and shouted, 'Let go the crown rope.' Immediately the basket became upright as the balloon surged above them. 'All hands on,' said Hunt, and four pairs of black hands clamped on the padded edges. 'Max, get in.'