Read "Marston and Me" by Thomson Burtis online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
You've probably heard heard of Les Fernald. He was on the round-the-world flight. He was a powerful, well-built chap of medium height with a pair of steady eyes, a nice smile, and the ability to fly a big ship about as well as it is given to man or beast to do anything. He'd had a lot of experience on Martins, whereas I only had a test flight with Lawton before I left. But I'd had some Caproni flying over in dear old France on some of my days away from Paris, and I'd lumbered through the ozone between Long Island and Texas with a three-motored Tankwing under me.
Out at the factory late that afternoon the two mechanics and ourselves inspected the ships, and then Fernald and I flew them on a test flight. They ticked away like clocks, and were perfectly rigged. I took Marston along on the flight, and he nodded his satisfaction to me at the same time that his rainbow-hued eyes glowed his dislike into my own.