by Giles
“Knowledgeable I think you mean Gopal” She replied equally softly, shifting to ease her sore body on the settee. “What he does next will show if he’s any good.”
“Indeed Tash. You note that evidently Nichols failed to report your own hurt to the man? Is that why you were so brusque to him? It was not entirely fair Tash” The gentle Indian half scolded.
“Perhaps, but I am not at my best Gopal. Manners lesson aside, I am more concerned about the continued leaking into the ship.”
“Agreed, but that seems not to be bothering our Captain Phillips at all. He has a plan, I have seen that look he has, on your face, many a time to know it for what it is.”
Tash nodded, she had seen the look of concentration on the young mans face as well.
“Captain, what exactly do you mean by ‘stand her on her tail’ if I may be so bold to ask?” Tash said, expressing out loud the question foremost in the bridge crew’s mind.
Jerard turned in his chair, he had completely forgotten the woman’s presence and was quite frankly annoyed at her interruption.
Into the uncomfortable silence Jones announced, “All sections report secure Sir.”
“You mean Sir, all but one.” Jerard arched an eyebrow at Tash.
“Oh, I am quite secure Captain.” Tash replied tartly. “I suggest you carry on.”
Jerard clenched his teeth to prevent himself from answering and turned back to his crew. “Mr D’Arcey get the ballast transferring from fore to aft as fast as you safely can. Mr. Wallace what's our altitude?”
“Two-thousand, one-hundred and falling Sir and we’re na’making any headway either.”
“Don’t worry about that just yet, keep it as level as you can, your doing well Sir.”
“But Sir!” Wallace said, his eyes as round as dinner plates.
“Mr. Wallace! I am Captain of this ship and you will take your orders from me!” Jerard said, his voice cold and decidedly unfriendly. It had actually come out a lot rougher than he had intended but the crew had to trust him right now. If they did not follow his exact orders they could all be swimming in the icy sea very shortly. For that matter Jerard had to trust himself that he was doing the right thing, they were in a situation that he had only ever heard about and not experienced. He refused to think about what would happen to the ship, nay all of them, if this failed.
“Yes Captain!” Wallace snapped out, his body at attention, his focus on the helm.
Unaware that he had done it, Jerard went stock still. He looked like a hawk, wary and waiting, his attention focused to every minute detail of his surroundings. He felt the ballast shifting to the back of the ship and heard Wallace’s soft grunts as the man struggled with the helm.
“Mr. D’Arcey! Mr. Wallace! Report immediately when we reach full aft ballast capacity or when we achieve a five degree upward pitch.”
Only moment passed before D’Arcey spoke first. “Maximum aft ballast Captain!
“Mr. Wallace, altitude and angle on the bow”
“One-thousand, seven-hundred feet Sir. Upward pitch on at three degrees, still two degrees to go, Sir.”
“Damn!” Jerard swore, once again forgetting Tash’s presence. “All of our ballast aft should have jerked her nose up! D’Arcey! Vent the forward ballast tanks! Empty them if you have to! I need two more degrees on the bow!”
“Mon du Capitan! We could snap ze spars, what of ze updrafts? This close to ze water? D’Arcey’s near perfect English was forgotten in the man’s panic.
“Mr. D’Arcey, I am aware of the risk, are you aware Sir that we have lost half of our height in the last half hour and that we are falling at over a foot per second? If you cannot follow my orders then you are dismissed!”
“Oui Captain, venting forward tanks.” D’Arcey replied, and turned to his station, muttering unintelligibly in French.
Suddenly the ship jerked as gallons upon gallons of water vomited from her port forward vent. A second later a second stream dropped from the forward starboard vent.
“Angle on the bow?” Phillips snapped out
“Four degrees up Sir! Thirteen hundred feet!”
“We need at least one more degree. D’Arcey! Do that again Sir! And begin bringing the engines back up to full, but very slowly man.
With a dark look D’arcey worked his controls. And again the ship pitched as the water fell from her forward ports.
“Erm captain I think I can see the tops of the waves from here” Randal stated from the forward dome.
“Just your imagination Fred” Jerard replied tersely, trying not to to picture the churning waves worryingly close now.
“Message from Engine room Sir” Jones cut in.
“Read it please” Phillips replied as he gazed over William’s shoulder at the still settling pitch gauge.
“Mr Nichols asks we not do that again Sir, he reports that half a dozen rivets have popped in Engineering alone...” The Welshman reported.
“Send him my apologies, and assure him it shouldn’t be needed.” Phillips replied off handedly as the needle settled. Six degrees up angle, good enough. “Full boost for five minutes Mr. Wallace, lets get out of this please.” He added as he staggered back into his own seat across the noticeably listing deck of the gondola. A small glass tumbler rolled past his foot as he went, distracting him for a moment.
“You made me spill my drink Captain” Miss Smythe-Harris stated unhurriedly from where she still sat on the far couch.
“So I did.” Phillips was both irritated and impressed at the woman's composure. “I thought I ordered passengers to their cabins Madam.” He replied levelly.
“I believe you did Sir and a perfectly good order it was too. But I remind you I am tasked with the custody of Mr Starblower’s assets when he is not present so I stayed to observe. I didn’t interfere in any way now did I?” She replied coolly matching his hard stare with one of her own.
“No madam you did not. My compliments on your composure and dedication to our employer. But if you’ll excuse me this is not the time to debate this, we are not out of this storm yet.” Turning his back on the woman Phillips sat back into his chair and listened to William call out the slowly increasing height once more.
The squall continued for another half an hour or more, which was long enough for the whole crew to become distressed at the ships list. But as the grey clouds faded to a dirty white then eventually shot through with radiant blue once more, Jerard felt able to order D’Arcey to re balance the fore and aft ballast tanks. Slowly the great ship righted herself.
“Two thousand feet Captain and climbing, Airspeed fifteen knots.” William Wallace announced to the bridge at last.
“Excellent work Sir.” Phillips commented. “All right gentlemen stand down from storm alert, Mr D’Arcey please go aft and see if Mr Nichols needs any extra assistance, then your relived Sir. Get some rest.”
Gratefully the Frenchman hauled himself to his feet and saluted before exiting the control gondola. As Jerard watched him go he noted the absence of Miss Smythe-Harris and Gopal. He wondered when they had left.
“You too Mr Wallace, I need you rested as well, I’ll take the helm.” When the young man didn’t immediately move Phillips said again gently. “Your relived William, get some rest” Moving up to the helm he took over from the younger man who left without a sound.
“All right Fred, you and Mr Jones here have the hard work now. Where did we end up, have you any idea at all?”
“Oh I have an estimate certainly Captain.” Frederick Randal replied easily. “The wind took us about 35 miles south east of our desired course. Now that I have the Sun’s position I can get a better fix but for now turn to bearing North 08 and we should hit Norway in about four hours at current speed.”
“I see. So we’re about two hours delayed you think?”
“At present Sir yes. As I said when I have better readings on or position I can give you a better estimate but about two hours late as of now yes.”
“Very well,
Mr Jones...”
“Aneurin Sir, feel free to call me Aneurin.” The Welshman said quietly, and respectfully.
“Thank you Sir. Aneurin then. Please assist Fred then contact Engineering and ask them if our hot running Engines can take a little more. I’d like to make up at least one of those hours if only to placate Colonel Carstares.” Phillips leaned back in the pilot’s seat and checked the Boost engine pressure gauge. A little under 34% remained in the Armstrong Klein pressure tanks. Gently he slid the brass throttle forward for 5% boost. Not much, but everything would help and with what they had left it would at least last until they hit Stavanger.
“Mr. Nichols for you Sir.” Aneurin Jones called out.
With the storm winds subsiding there was at last quiet enough to hear the speaking grill. “Captain, we have been inspecting the inner hull. As you guessed the dope layer is wrecked along R93 a yard either side of it. Its soaked through and there is a good two feet of water sloshing about up here. If I let you take the engines back up to 85% will you get as much height as you can so we can try to dry out?”
“Can do Mr Nichols, up angle 2 degrees.” Pulling gently back on the control yoke with one eye on his pitch gauge Phillips eased the rain drenched aircraft higher in to the clearing skies.
When the Soul of Discretion finally got above the lingering cloud layer Randal and Jones managed to get proper sextant readings. The storm had put them a little over forty miles south of their intended course. Phillips was glad that Nichols allowed him to flog the engines just a little more. Now that they were having to travel into the teeth of a 30 knot headwind the Discretion was having to work for every mile. None the less four and a half hours later the jagged coastline of Norway became just visible ahead. When Wallace and D’Arcey returned looking a bit more refreshed Phillips excused himself from the Bridge to speak with Nichols more about the ship’s damage.
On his way to the engine room Jerard allowed himself a brief look at his cabin door and a further thought to the very comfortable bed beyond. The adrenalin had long since worn off and he was left with a kind of nervous energy he could identify as battle fatigue. He knew that laying down right now would only encourage thoughts about the risky maneuver he had pulled to keep them out of the ocean. If it had not worked then...STOP! Jerard commanded himself. You Sir, do not have the luxury of a second guess.
As he was passing through the recreation room, Jerard steered toward the side board and picked up a decanter. Removing the stopper he took in a hearty whiff of the contents. The fine Scotch tickled his nose and sent soothing signals to his brain. Pulling out a couple of glasses he poured only two fingers worth into each and carefully stoppered the bottle. Another deep breath and he was moving back down the companionway towards the engine room.
“How did she fare overall then Mr Nichols?” Phillips began as he handed the tired looking engineer a glass.
Lance Nichols took the glass and held it under his nose inhaling deeply. The man closed his eyes and allowed his shoulders to relax. Opening them again he offered Jerard a small smile.
“Not badly overall Sir” Nichols replied reclining back in his chair. “I’m annoyed at the engine coolant incident, the engineers at Beardmore’s ought to have checked that. Number two engine will be needed to be taken off-line and flushed completely to fix the problem. Not a job I think we can handle while running this errand for her majesty I fear.”
“How long would the process take?” Jerard asked leaning back against the console.
“Most of a day to be certain Sir.” The engineer looked embarrassed with the admission.
“Hmm so effectively we’re limited to 90% power with your temporary fix. Is that correct?”
“Yessir, we can still make cruising speed but I’d recommend we limit the main engines to a maximum of 54 knots for the time being.”
“I can’t see that being a problem Mr Nichols. What of the hull?”
“Not good Sir. There’s still a few rips to be repaired but that should not take too long once the ship is grounded. It could have been a lot worse if not for...well, it just coulda been worse Sir. And until we get some fresh dope on her hull we’ll absorb more water than is good for us. I would not want to be taking her through any more storms.”
“Is there any chance of picking up more dope in Stavanger?”
“I can’t say Sir, never been there for more than a stop over. We can get fresh gas for the lifting bags at the municipal gasworks, I do know that.”
“Good, and, that reminds me. I felt Mr D’Arcey was a little spendthrift with the gas reserves as we took on height. Now don’t mistake me..” Phillips hastily added to avoid getting the mans back up with apparent criticism of his second in charge. “..he did a perfectly good and proper job; but I felt he could have allowed the pressure seals to hold at least another 5% when he vented gas before we hit the storm front.”
“Perhaps your right Sir, I’ll mention it to him.”
“No, he did well, given a hard situation as I said. I can see we have a sweet ship here Mr Nichols and I just think she’d have been happier if we had over 90% reserves, lets not do it again is all I’m saying. I have a feeling that things are not going to be as smooth as Carstares seems to think.” Jerard took his first sip of the Scotch and without realizing it he closed his eyes and mimicked Nichols' expression as the warm liquid slid down his throat and warmed his stomach. What he did realize was that the only benefit of the alcohol right now was it's warmth and he really did not want much more of it. “So,” he continued after a moment, “stopping for a gas refill will take what? Two hours?”
“Yessir, plus all they have is coal gas so I’ll assign D'Arcey to re-balance the bags and make arrangements to have all the Norwegian gas piped into LB 7.”
“You can do that in the air?” Phillips asked surprised. “What other tricks does this little Lady of ours have I wonder?”
Nichols' grinned. “She’s built for self sufficiency and endurance Captain, so yes, we have inter connector pipes and a small A-K driven pump to make redistribution among the lift bags. Are you aware that we have already recovered 20% of the lost ballast from your little stunt through an exhaust vapor collector unit as well Sir?”
“No I wasn’t. So we have a condenser as well, very useful.” Phillips filed that bit of information away for later. “But if I may, how is the rest of the hull? You stated that rivets had popped in Engineering when we ah...when we executed our little recovery maneuver. How badly did the frame bend?”
“It only flexed Sir, no bending, at least not at first glance. We lost three rivets in the engine room, scared the life out of us when it happened, but nothing a few moments work couldn’t fix. When the repair teams have finished with the skin I’ll have them sweep the longitudinal spars for any others that may have worked loose. But to tell the truth Sir. I’m not worried overmuch by that.”
Phillips relaxed. “So were in good shape despite our war wound on the Skin around 93”
“Yessir.”
Jerard nodded, thinking about the storm. With the ship in this condition he did not want to risk running into another one of those on their return trip. He took another sip of the Scotch before speaking again. “I think Mr. Nichols we will have plenty of time for repairs before we have to set off for home. Our only problems will be in getting the materials needed. Am I correct?”
I believe so Sir. But our Tash has proven to be quite resourceful, it would not surprise me if we were repaired and back in the air in 24 hours. I see having the available manpower to be more of a problem. With an extra day we could probably have the engines repaired as well.”
“Good, let’s shoot for that then. Once Dr. Nordstrom has been retrieved and is safely back on the ship the delay in our return home should not be a problem.” Phillips stated as he straightened up. “I had best get back to the bridge and take us in.”
“Begging your pardon Sir but I think it is your turn for a bit of a kip. Our Wallace can handle bringing us in.”
> “You’re right.” Jerard sighed “As soon as Fred gives Mr. Wallace the course have him and Mr. Jones stand down for an hour or so as well. You have command Mr Nichols.” Jerard offered his second a salute, then headed wearily to his bunk. Without thinking he left the Scotch glass on the console, complete with most of it's original contents.
About 3:30 pm
Discretion's Bridge
Over the Norwegian coast
The speaking grill in his cabin buzzed snapping Jerard out of a fitful doze. “We’re directly over the Norwegian coast now Sir.” Jones’ voice announced.
Rolling off the bed Jerard managed to move his weary body to the desk and infernal speaking grill. Fumbling with the reply switch he managed a muttered, “I’ll be right up,” as he shook off the remains of his nap.
A few minutes later he adjusted his cap squarely and entered the control gondola. Jerard looked over at the instrument panel. The chronometer showed it a little before three thirty in the afternoon, he’d gotten barely an hour of down time he realized. But the good news was that they still had perhaps an hour and a half lead on the kidnappers, assuming they had been as slowed by the storm on the ocean as the Discretion had been in the air. Forcing a light tone he announced, “Good show Mr Wallace. Frederick where exactly are we?”
Fred Randal was away from his desk and standing at the edge of the observation bubble, sextant in hand, a small pair of Daubresse style binoculars hung from his neck as well. Without moving the sextant from his face he mumbled “Checking now ...Sir”
Moving up to the window and gazing at the jagged coastline Phillips felt a sense of accomplishment. The flight to Norway despite its ups and downs had been the furthest north he had flown an airship. Though he saw no reason to share that particular fact with anyone just yet. Looking closely at the coastline he estimated they were, as Fred had implied before, a good bit south of their desired landfall. Seeing a deep cut inlet he pointed, “Is that it Fred?”
“No Sir, sorry Sir that I believe is ‘Egersund’. If so we’re fifty miles south of Stavanger.”