The Airshipmen: A Novel Based on a True Story. A Tale of Love, Betrayal & Political Intrigue.

by David Dennington

  “What’s up, old buddy?” Lou asked.

  “I heard that man’s leg snap,” Norway answered. “Lou, what the hell are you d-d-doing? Have you gone m-mad?”

  Lou put on his jacket. “It’s a long story, Nev. But you know, you really should think about doing a book about the airship business. Could be a best seller.”

  “Let’s g-get away from here,” Norway said, scurrying off to the car, “b-before you kill somebody.” Once inside the car Lou did his best to calm Norway down.

  “Look Nev, don’t be alarmed. These low-down, dirty rats deserved what they got. That last one has been harassing and following Charlotte around for seven years and he’s broken into our house at least twice—not to mention beating up and robbing Charlotte’s cousin.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the p-police?”

  “I did. There was nothing they could do.”

  “Maybe I will write that b-book and y-you’ll be in it,” Norway muttered. He turned the key in the starter. The engine started after five or six tries.

  “You know this is one hell of a car, Nev,” Lou said.

  “She’ll be all right in a minute, when she’s warmed up again.”

  “If your book’s a success, maybe you’ll be able to afford another wheel.”

  The car sputtered and took off merrily along the road to the Howden shed where Lou worked the rest of the day without further distraction, save for the sounds of ambulance bells ringing as they sped along the Selby Road toward Old Hinkley’s Farm.

  Jessup’s recovery was slow. He spent six months in the hospital in Hull. Charlotte stopped by his ward every so often without him seeing her. He looked as though he’d been in a dreadful traffic accident. His jaw had been wired up and his head wrapped in bandages with only his eyes visible. His left leg was in plaster from the ankle to the hip and suspended from the ceiling. His arm was in a sling due to his broken collarbone and his right hand was wrapped in bandages, his fingers in splints. He complained of pains in his abdomen caused by a massive blow to the solar plexus. Jessup’s bald friend was in the next bed for a week before being sent home on crutches. During his hospital stay, Jessup had a few visitors, including his sister Angela, as well as a few toughs from Moortop.

  Most of the nurses knew of Charlotte’s troubles with Jessup and kept her abreast of his progress and what he said to his visitors. For a month, he kept quiet, his jaw being wired up tightly. Jessup wasn’t a happy man and took his fury out on the nurses. After that month, Charlotte was sent to work on Jessup’s ward and when he caught sight of her, he became enraged.

  “You see what he did to me, bitch? You see what he did! He’s gonna pay for this. Just you wait. I’m gonna kill him!” Jessup hissed and spat through clenched teeth like an incoherent madman. Hearing the outburst, the matron came rushing down the ward.

  “You listen to me, Mr. Jessup, one more peep out of you and I’ll have you thrown out on the street! In the meantime, I’ll inform the police of your threats,” she said.

  At that moment, Angela came into the ward to visit her brother and overheard the matron’s bollocking. She glared at Charlotte with bitter hatred. Charlotte was sent to another ward. Later in the evening, she told Lou what Jessup had said. Lou shrugged and said he wasn’t surprised—Jessup was a slow learner. A couple of weeks after the beatings, Jessup’s friend with the rat-face, showed up for work at the shed with the unharmed member of their gang. He wore a dressing over his nose which covered most of his face. In comical nasal tones, he told the foreman he and his mates had been set upon by soldiers from the barracks in York. He said the other two were recovering.

  Jessup returned to work with his bald friend nine months after their ‘little talk’ at Hinkley’s Farm. He acted docile and the foreman let them work even though both limped badly. Lou learned Jessup was back and sought him out on the shop floor. When Jessup saw Lou coming, his face became mask of terror.

  “Ah Jessie, I’ve been worried about you, big guy,” Lou said. “I heard you got into a bit of a dust-up. Are you okay now?”

  The shop foreman listened with interest.

  “Yes, sir. I’m pretty good now,” Jessup said, in a weird voice, his speech affected by his crooked jaw.

  “They said you and your friends were set upon by a platoon of soldiers. Is that true?”

  “No, sir, only six, not a platoon,” Jessup answered.

  “Well, that’s mighty unfair. Anyway, keep me informed of your progress. I’m gonna be taking a close interest in your welfare from now on.” Lou moved in close to Jessup and spoke in his ear. “Remember what I said, you little shit. You’re on probation—you’ll always be on probation.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

  “Now, the things you’ve been saying in the hospital about … well, I don’t need to repeat all of it, do I?”

  “I’m so, so sorry. I was saying crazy things for a time. I was out of my head with the pain. You understand, sir. Please forgive me.”

  “All right, Jessup, we’ll see how you shape up,” Lou said.

  21

  A CHANGE IN ATTITUDE

  Autumn 1928.

  By 1928, the skeletons of both ships had been fully framed. Shed No.1 at Cardington had been lengthened to provide more than adequate room, whereas at Howden they had only eighteen inches to spare each side. Lou realized the sheds had served as huge templates for the airships, growing like giant grubs inside their pods. The press continued to follow every detail during the construction of Cardington R101, which they considered the main story. Howden R100 was second-rate in comparison and not paid nearly as much attention. George Hunter from the Daily Express however, didn’t write the Howden ship off so quickly, remaining quiet on the subject. He visited Howden a couple of times a year where he usually met with Norway and Lou. He and Norway became friends. Wallis shunned the press.

  In the autumn of ’28, Lou made one of his monthly visits to Cardington. In Colmore and Scott's absence, he'd arranged to meet Richmond. Before doing so, he dropped in on Captain Carmichael Irwin in his site office in Shed No. 1. Scott had brought Irwin on board as the skipper of Cardington R101 and, for the time being, he was familiarizing himself with engineered drawings of the airship, its power and mechanical systems. Four years older than Lou, Irwin was unmistakably Irish, that is ‘Black Irish’, good-looking with jet-black hair and blue eyes, tall and somewhat shy. His nickname was ‘Blackbird’ or just ‘Bird’. He was also known as ‘the Crow’, which would later become a Cardington R101 call sign. They talked briefly about the war. Irwin had served with the Royal Naval Air Service as a commander of non-rigid airships in the Home Waters and East Mediterranean. Now, he was with the Royal Air Force with the rank of flight lieutenant. He was also a fine athlete, having represented Great Britain as a long distance runner in the 1920s Olympics in Belgium. Lou found the soft-spoken captain to be a genuine and decent fellow. Knowing the Remingtons would be posted to Cardington early in the coming year, Irwin offered his help in finding them somewhere to live. Later in the year, he sent newspaper cuttings of homes for rent in the area with names of reputable estate agents.

  After leaving Irwin, Lou met Richmond at his office in Cardington House. He found him slumped in his leather chair, shirt rumpled, sleeves rolled up, Air Force tie loose at the neck. His scoffing superiority seemed to have vanished.

  “Oh, Remington, come in,” he said wearily.

  “Are you well, sir?” Lou asked.

  “Rather tired, actually.”

  “Burning the midnight oil, are we?”

  “That’s about it. So much to be done,” Richmond sighed.

  “Always the way, sir.”

  “I shouldn’t complain. I’m doing what I love most … I suppose. I can’t seem to get any satisfaction out of it these days. I’m exhausted.” Richmond leaned back in his chair, meeting Lou’s eyes. “Just how are things at Howden? I want you to tell me everything. When we first met, you told me they were using ‘geodetic’ constructio
n. Tell me more about that. I have my own ideas of course, but I’d like to hear you to explain it.”

  “For technical information you might want to speak with Mr. Wallis or Mr. Norway. You could pay them a visit. I’m sure they’d be more than glad to consult with you, sir.”

  “I doubt that very much,” Richmond said, shaking his head.

  “Perhaps you should try.”

  Richmond turned away, as though thinking about it. “We’ll see. You tell me.”

  “The best way I can put it is—if one part of the ship fails, or is under stress, say like a girder or something, then other parts take up the load. They ride in to save the day, like the cavalry, so to speak.” Lou put his fist to his mouth and made a bugle sound and grinned. “I’m sure Squadron Leader Rope’s familiar with all that stuff.”

  Richmond puffed up his cheeks and blew out a long breath. “Fascinating. Tell me about their engines; I understand they’re using petrol.”

  Lou had spoken to Wallis before coming down and asked if he should remain tight-lipped. Wallis’s answer had surprised him. “Tell them whatever they want to know. Richmond’s committed now. He can’t change a thing—government won’t allow it. They’re overspent. And as far as my knowing what Cardington is doing—which is of no interest to me—I only have to read the papers. The Air Ministry puts out propaganda every day.”

  “Howden’s using six Rolls-Royce Condors, two of which can reverse for maneuvering,” Lou said.

  Richmond’s pain was obvious. Cardington R101 had five engines, underpowered and overweight. One, a permanent reversing engine, was just dead weight ninety-nine percent of the time.

  “I wish we could switch to petrol. We’d save tons. What about gas bags and harnesses?”

  “As you know, the bags are coming from Germany. The harnesses are made and everybody’s happy with them,” Lou said.

  “And the gas valves?”

  “They should be in from Zeppelin any time.”

  “Well, ours are built. I hope they work.” Richmond peered gloomily out the window.

  “Oh, I’m sure they will, sir.”

  “What about servo assistance?” Richmond said, studying the wintry scene outside his window.

  “They don’t have any.”

  Richmond suddenly sat up and glared at Lou. “What! Why not?”

  “Mr. Norway found it unnecessary.”

  “I can’t believe that!”

  Lou read his disappointment. “They’ve been through the numbers countless times.”

  “Rope said just the opposite. That damned gear weighs a ton!”

  “If I may be so bold, sir, how is the weight coming out?” Lou asked innocently.

  “Heavier than expected. I can’t say anything now. We’re working on it.”

  Underpowered and heavy. No wonder he’s up at night. He’s a pompous ass, but I can’t help feeling sorry for the guy.

  Lou remembered Wallis telling him and Norway the Cardington ship was bound to come out heavy. “They’ll be depending on dynamic lift to stay airborne, you’ll see,” he’d said

  “How much did you say they’d spent so far?” Richmond asked.

  “Actually, I didn’t, but it’s under two hundred and ninety thousand pounds.”

  Richmond was incredulous. “Under two ninety!” He put his hand to his brow, staring at his untidy desktop. “We’ve spent over two million pounds.”

  No wonder you look glum, pal.

  Lou knew that at the end of the day, Vickers estimated they’d be at least a hundred thousand pounds over budget, but they knew that going in.

  Richmond continued, “That’s confidential. I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “I shan’t say anything, sir.”

  “How the hell does he do it?”

  “How does who do what, sir?” Lou asked.

  “Wallis. How does he do it?”

  “It’s all in his head, sir.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Yep. He has a pretty amazing mind.”

  “Look, Remington, we’ve been talking openly. Keep all this to yourself. Don’t divulge anything to Howden.”

  “Sir, I never do and they never ask. They’re good like that.”

  “Quite.”

  “They have their own designs and ways of doing things.”

  “Yes, yes, I know. They’re not going to steal our ideas.”

  “No chance of that.”

  “I just don’t want information to get out, especially in the press.”

  “I understand perfectly, sir.

  “Their confidence is astonishing,” Richmond said.

  “One thing I can tell you, sir. They’re glad of oversight.”

  Richmond pondered this, puzzled. “You know, I’m a chemist,” he said suddenly.

  “Really, sir?”

  “I expect they joke about me up there, don’t they?”

  Lou had heard them call him ‘Dopey’, but he couldn’t remember who said it.

  No point in upsetting the poor guy.

  “I’ve heard nothing of the sort.”

  Richmond looked embarrassed for opening up the way he had.

  “I depend on Bolton and Paul’s engineers,” he said.

  “I guess they’ve got aeronautical design staff over there?”

  “They’re very experienced. They’ve done stout work here. I think highly of them and Rope oversees a lot of this stuff, of course—he’s exceptional,” Richmond said.

  “The newspapers can’t say enough about the guy,” Lou agreed.

  Richmond opened his bottom drawer and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He buzzed his secretary and asked her to bring in ‘one of the special envelopes.’ A young woman appeared moments later with a brown envelope. Richmond slid the papers inside and wound the string around its fasteners.

  “I’d like you to give this to Mr. Wallis, with my compliments. It’s a copy of our gas valve design. I’d be most interested to hear his opinion.” Lou took the envelope wondering if this could be a new beginning; an era of cooperation.

  In Howden the next morning, Lou handed Wallis the envelope, relaying Richmond’s message. Wallis read the words ‘TOP SECRET’ on the front. He handed it back to Lou.

  “Aren’t you going to open it, sir?”

  Wallis’s answer was brief. “Send this back by special courier immediately. We don’t have anywhere secure enough at Howden to store such valuable, high-level, top secret documents.”

  Lou was disappointed—this was Wallis’s unforgiving, stubborn side.

  “Don’t look like that, Lou. These people are on the ropes. Do you think they’d afford us the same consideration if the situation were reversed? They’ve been kicking us around for the last four years and now they want to play nice. Don’t be soft.”

  “Right you are, sir,” Lou said.

  22

  GOODBYE LENNY

  Autumn 1928.

  Late in summer of ‘28, afternoon tea was arranged at Candlestick Cottage. Wallis was present with Molly and their two children and Norway showed up with an unexpected guest—a new lady friend. Frances was a quietly spoken girl who worked as a medical practitioner in York. He’d met her at the flying club. John Bull dropped by with Mary and chatted with Charlotte’s parents while Billy played darts with Lou and his dad in the garden. Lenny did his level best to play, squinting through his specs, a Woodbine in his mouth while he tried to suppress a chesty cough full of phlegm. But his darts kept falling short into the dirt. Charlotte stood inside at the window with Molly, each holding a baby. Fanny began to cry, her shoulders heaving. She held a handkerchief up to her eyes, her heart breaking.

  “Fanny, love, what’s the matter?”

  “It’s terrible,” Fanny sobbed.

  “What?”

  “He’s only got three months.”

  “Oh Fanny, what do you mean?” Molly gasped.

  “He’s got lung cancer. They said it’s spreading—to his brain.”

  After that news, it became
impossible to enjoy the afternoon. Fanny and her family soon left after tearful goodbyes. Everyone realized Lenny was a very sick man and when they were gone, Charlotte broke the news.

  Lenny died two weeks later. Those present at the Sunday afternoon tea at the cottage attended the funeral at Western Cemetery, which brought back sad memories to Lou and Charlotte. They watched the autumn leaves fall on Lenny’s coffin as it was lowered into the ground, while the distraught Fanny held on to her mother and Billy. After the service, the mourners returned to the cottage—everyone except Fanny and Billy, who went to Fanny’s mother’s in Selby.

  Wallis told Lou that if the boy needed a job in order to help his mother financially, there’d be a place for him at Howden. Billy reported for work two weeks later. Lou took him to the shop foreman and told him to take good care of him. He earned twelve shillings a week—not bad for a boy of fifteen.

  After a couple of months, Billy was shinning up and down the ladders and climbing the scaffolds and ropes with the best of them. Lou was glad he had a job; it’d keep his mind off his father’s death. Fanny left their rented place near Hull and went with Billy to live in Selby. A position had been found for her at Goole Hospital.

  23

  LEAVING ‘CANDLESTICK’

  April 1929.

  Lou hadn’t slept at all. It was now 4:30 a.m. He rolled over and sat up on the side of the bed. The wind had strengthened and continued to howl through the trees and rattle the windows.

  “What time is it?” Charlotte asked.

  “Half past four.”

  “Suppose I might as well get up, too.”

  “Not much point in lying here.”

  “I’ll make tea,” Charlotte said.

  Lou got up and dressed and went into the living room where boxes were piled high. He lit the fire in the grate. It was chilly. They sat around the fireplace drinking tea and eating toast, enjoying a couple more hours in this room they both loved. Charlotte held her cup to her lips, withdrew it, and stared into the fire.