The Strode Venturer [antikvár]

I1. STRODE ORIENTMarch, 1963. Looking back through my diary, as I begin this account of the strange means by which the prosperity of the company which I now serve was founded, I find it difficult to realise that there was a time when I had never been to the Maldives, had scarcely ever heard of Addu Atoll. The island we now call Ran-a-Maari had only recently been bom the night I flew into London from Singapore. The stewardess had woken me shortly after four with a cup of coffee and through my window I could see the moon falling towards the west and a great bank of black cloud. The plane whispered softly as it lost height. The first lights showed below us, long ribbons of amber, orange, white and blue. And then the great sprawling mass of the city seen only as slashes of arterial brilliance, the blank spaces in between dotted with the pin-pointe of tiny perforations in a black sheet of paper. It was breathtaking, beautifulimmensely impressive; and it went on and on until the pattern of lights was spread from horizon to horizon.By the time we landed the moon was gone and the sky was clouded over. A chill north-westerly wind blew a light drizzle across the apron and London Airport glimmered damply as we made our way into the terminal building. At that dead hour before the dawn the Customs and Immigration officers, all the night staff, moved with careful deliberation. But though they were slow, they still possessed that quiet air of politeness, even kindness, that always surprises one when coming home after a long sojourn abroad. I hadn't been back for over three years and the consideration with which they treated the passengers erased some of the weariness of the flight. "Any watches or cameras?"" No, only what's on the list."It was quite a long list for I thought I was returning to England for good, but he chalked my bags and let me through without charging me anything. He had a cold and perhaps he didn't want to be botiiered. " If you'd declared9