with coffee for the boys, the little one with cocoa for me.
We drove through deserted streets to T Wharf and at once boarded the tugboat Sadie Ross. The plane, as before, lay moored off the Jeffrey Yacht Club in East Boston. Stultz, Gordon, Gower, and I climbed in. We said no "good-byes"—too many of them already, and too little going!
Slim uncovered the motors. Bill tinkered a bit with his radio and in the cockpit. Slim dropped down from the fuselage to the starboard pontoon, hopped over to the other, and cranked the port motor. Soon all three were turning over and Friendship taxied down the harbor, with the tug, carrying our friends, trailing us.
And then, suddenly, the adventure began—the dream became actuality.
We were off!
But let me tell the story here as I wrote it
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