Northwest Africa
June 10th, 1931
Like some kind of ancient, monstrous creature breaching the waves, the Royal Airship Goliath floated up through the thin, gray evening clouds. Her skin shone silvery-white, reflecting the light of the brilliant full moon hanging high in the night sky. Shadowy and almost spectral, the massive craft left the wispy tendrils of the clouds behind, and steadily climbed into the dark embrace of the night sky.
The Goliath was the latest, and most expensive, showpiece vessel of Lord Angus Seaford, a blunt, Scottish, self-made multimillionaire who had a singular vision that trade throughout the British Empire would one day be by air, not by sea. He envisioned a world where fleets of airships, owned by him, would fly their goods and passengers all across the British Empire—from London to New Delhi to Cape Town—and back again. Trade and control over the seas were what gave Britain an unrivaled empire over which the sun never set. Seaford saw a new realm in the air, and he wanted to be the man to control it all. His growing passion—or obsession, some would say—had driven him to take the costly risk of financing the building of the airship out of his own pocket, to the unheard-of tune of almost three-and-a-half million pounds sterling.
The craft was the largest ever built in England. It measured over two hundred and fifty yards long and had a forty-five-man crew, all of whom were veterans of the burgeoning airship business. The Goliath was propelled, at a steady one hundred kilometers an hour, by five powerful eight-cylinder diesel engines, each mounting sixteen-foot, solid-oak twin-blade propellers. Nestled comfortably within the craft were sixty luxurious passenger cabins, and an elegant, five-star dining room that served meals rivaling any found in Paris or London. There were two promenade decks with windows running down both sides of the airship, allowing passengers a view unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. There was even a spacious lounge and an asbestos-lined smoking room, where Lord Seaford would entertain guests after the five-course evening meal. As it was in English society, most of the passenger space was on the upper deck, with the kitchen, washrooms, and crew accommodation below. Much of the inner workings of the craft were located out of sight on the lower deck. The massive airship was steered from the control car located well forward under the lower deck, which was only accessible by a ladder that led down from the chart room. Goliath spared nothing for the comfort of its privileged passengers.
Seaford had ensured that all of the major media outlets throughout the country were on hand to cover the maiden launch of Great Britain’s pride, the Goliath, as it took off from Southern England to the cheering adulation of thousands of well-wishers. Revving its mighty engines to full power, the Goliath turned away from her home and floated off into the bright summer sky.
Crossing over the English Channel, accompanied by several intrepid flyers hired by the papers to record the event, the Goliath headed for its first stop in Paris, where Lord Seaford and his amazing airship were the toast of the town. After only one short night’s stay, several new passengers joined the flight. They then flew on to Rome, where a crowd of thousands of onlookers cheered as the Goliath moored itself on the outskirts of the city. With an eye on showing the world what could be accomplished from the air, Seaford harried the ship’s captain to continue with their voyage. After only a brief stop to refuel, the Goliath soon continued on her journey and traveled south, out over the warm, blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea. It headed toward its next destination, Nouakchott, the capital of Mauritania, in French West Africa. Their final destination was Cape Town, South Africa. Once there, Seaford had told the press that he intended to hold a news conference, and announce to the world his plans for a fleet of airships that would become the new vessels of commerce for the twentieth century and beyond.
Inside the airship’s control cabin, Captain William Wright stood, watching with his steely blue eyes as the duty officer gave an order. The ship’s helmsman acknowledged the order, then spun the wheel over to starboard, steering the Goliath southwest toward the small French military airstrip, still many miles distant. Captain Wright was considered by his employer to be a steady and dependable captain, a man who never failed to bring his ship, cargo and crew home safely. His blue, naval-style uniform looked as crisp and clean as when he had dressed earlier that morning. A stickler for dress and discipline, Captain Wright believed in setting an example for his much younger crew to follow. He was always first on shift in the morning, and the last senior officer to leave at night. Wright rested his hand on the side of the wooden cabin; he could feel the powerful rhythmic vibration of the engines. Somewhat superstitious, Captain Wright always felt that it was good luck to touch his craft and feel the power of his vessel before turning over the duties and responsibilities to the night duty officer. A smile crept across his weathered face. It may have been the maiden voyage of the Goliath, but it was Wright’s final duty call. After having held an illustrious forty-five-year career, he was planning to retire.
“Mister Young,” said Wright, as he looked down at his gold pocket watch and then over at the slender junior officer standing beside him. “It is now midnight; you have the ship. I expect you to wake me should the need arise.”
Lieutenant Young respectfully raised his hand to his cap. “Aye, sir, I have the ship,” he replied.
Captain Wright patted the young officer on the shoulder and climbed up the ladder into the darkened chart room. Straightening out his tunic before stepping out onto the main passageway that ran like a long metal spine throughout the body of the airship, Wright looked aft toward the crew’s quarters. He thought about having a quick walk-through to see how the men were doing before turning in for the night, but instead, decided to make his way up to the passenger deck and the lounge. He had no doubt that Lord Seaford and several of his equally rich friends would still be playing cards and drinking the night away. It was none of Wright’s business what his employer did, but he could tell that Seaford was gambling and drinking far more on this flight than any other time that they had traveled together before. Wright clasped his hands behind his back and started walking down the dimly lit corridor, when the hair on the back of his neck rose. Something was wrong. His blood turned cold in his veins when he heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol firing. Who the hell was firing a gun on board a vessel filled with massive, highly flammable hydrogen cells? It was sheer madness.
Another shot fired.
Wright, his heart pounding away in his chest, looked down the corridor and watched a dark shape stumble out of a room and tumble onto the carpeted floor. Fighting the fear gripping his stomach, Captain Wright ran over to the body lying facedown on the floor. A dark stain of blood was already seeping out from underneath the man. Slowly, Wright turned the body over, and saw that it was his junior radio operator, a bloody hole now blasted into the poor man’s chest. After laying the body back down, Wright stood and cautiously walked toward the open radio room. He stopped at the door. Wright could hear the sound of someone inside, smashing things to pieces. It was as if the man did not care if anyone heard him.
Wright summoned up his courage, took a deep breath, stepped inside the door, and froze in disbelief. Standing there, with an ax grasped tightly in his hands, was Lord Seaford. His red hair was a mess and his deep-green eyes were ablaze with a maniacal look.
“My God, sir, what are you doing?” asked Wright, as he looked around at the destroyed radio equipment.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” mumbled Seaford. “I had to do it. I had to do what needed to be done.”
Not a word of it made any sense to Wright, as he edged forward, his hands at his sides. In a calm tone, Wright said, “What needed to be done, sir?”
Seaford suddenly raised the ax above his head. “Stay where you are, Captain!” he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. “I’ve already killed tonight. Don’t make me kill you, too!”
The ghastly image of the dead radio operator filled Wright’s mind. His fear faded as anger swelled inside his chest. Had the man gone mad?
“Easy now, sir,” said Wright, trying to get the lunatic to lower his ax. “Why don’t you tell me what the problem is, and I’ll see what I can do about it?”
“It’s too late for that now,” sobbed Seaford, as tears welled up in his bloodshot eyes. “No one can know what has happened here.”
Wright inched forward. A flicker of sadness registered in Seaford’s eyes. The ax lowered slightly. In a flash, Wright launched himself at Seaford, grabbing the ax in his hands. The two men tumbled from side to side inside the tiny room, wrestling for control of the deadly weapon. Wright was the larger of the two, but Seaford fought back like a man possessed by a demon. Back and forth the men staggered, smashing into overturned chairs while destroyed radio components crunched under their feet.
“What the hell is going on in here?” yelled a voice from outside.
A crewman stepped inside, saw what was going on and without hesitation, threw himself into the fight. Seaford struggled in vain as the two men soon overpowered him; the ax was taken from his hands. Captain Wright, his heart still beating wildly, ordered the crewman to tie Seaford up. A minute later, with Seaford firmly tied to a chair, the crewman headed off to wake the sleeping master-at-arms so he could break out a pistol and a set of handcuffs from the airship’s tiny armory.
Captain Wright put the ax down on a far table, then removed his tunic, and placed it over the body of the unfortunate radio operator. Saying a quick prayer for the man, Wright turned and looked toward Seaford, surprised to see tears streaming down the man’s face.
“Sir, pull yourself together. What the devil is going on here?” asked Wright, shaking his head at his employer, who looked like a broken man.
Seaford said nothing, meekly lowering his head in shame.
Wright bit his lip in anger and frustration. What could have possibly made Seaford want to kill a defenseless man and try to stop any communication of the event? A sudden chill ran down Wright’s spine. He walked out from the room and looked down the long passageway toward the back of the airship.
A low rumble echoed throughout the Goliath, followed a second later by a violent explosion that rocked the massive airship from side to side, throwing Wright off his feet and onto the floor of the radio room. Struggling to rise, the captain did not need to be told what had happened. Somewhere in the bowels of the ship a catastrophic explosion had just occurred, and Wright knew who had caused it. Looking over at Seaford, he knew the man was mad and had doomed them all.
A ghastly wall of fire and destruction raced from the tail section of the airship, picking up speed as it shot forward, instantly breaching and tearing apart the gas cells that held hundreds of thousands of feet of highly flammable hydrogen. Like a fiery creature bursting from the pits of hell, the bright-orange wall of flame consumed all in its path.
Captain Wright clenched his fists in frustration and anger. He knew that it would be mere seconds before the Goliath would lose its structural integrity and begin its death spiral toward the ground, thousands of meters below.
Already, the once-proud airship had begun to list forward, tilting its nose downward.
“What the hell have you done?” yelled Wright, as the horrible noise of the craft tearing itself apart filled his ears.
Seaford raised his head, looked into Wright’s eyes, and mouthed one word: “Sorry.” An instant later, scorching flames ripped through the cabin, incinerating Wright and Seaford.
Far below, a massive sandstorm whipped across the desolate and rocky terrain, while burning debris rained down from the night sky like a bright, unexpected meteor shower. The Goliath plummeted to Earth, her crew and passengers lost in the vast expanse of Africa for decades to come.
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