No sooner had I revived my tea-making activities when I heard the Auster start. After some introductory coughing and spluttering, it settled down to a healthy roar. For God’s sake throttle back, I muttered into the teapot. They didn’t. The noise got louder and closer. There was a horrendous clatter and crash, a tinkling of broken glass—and then silence.
Now, when a fuel-injected motor starts dying of thirst, it doesn’t just peacefully expire—it has several false stops interspersed with bursts of power. As an engine gives up, the aircraft swings violently toward it. This is counteracted by a bootful of opposite rudder, which generally coincides with its recovery, causing an even more violent swing in the other direction. When both motors quit simultaneously, the bursts of power, swinging, and kicking of rudder present an unusual spectacle to the casual observer on the ground—and a frightening demonstration of chaos to the less casual spectator aboard.