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

by David Dennington

“She’s wettin’ ’er panties is what she’s doin’,” a woman whispered behind him.

  For the next few minutes, it was as if he and Nellie were the only two in that stifling shed. “I must tell you, it’s good to see such wonderful work,” he said.

  “Oh, sir, it’s ever such a pleasure, sir.” Nellie was steeling herself to respond and squirming on her seat as he squatted down closely beside her, his voice soothing and seductive.

  “Show me how you do it, Nellie.”

  Nellie became calm, reached into a barrel beside her and pulled out a skin dripping with fluid.

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, that’s brine, what they come in,” Nellie said.

  “They’re very slippery, aren’t they?”

  “Oh, yes, sir, they are!”

  “As slippery as your willie, mate,” someone said.

  “Show me your technique,” Thomson said.

  “She’ll show ’im ’er technique all right,” another woman guffawed.

  Nellie started working furiously and expertly with her tool, and in no time the skin was scraped as clean as a whistle. She held it proudly in the air for all to see. Thomson got up from his crouching position, applauding enthusiastically. Cameras flashed, the women cheered and clapped, while those in the entourage suppressed their laughter. Thomson spent the next fifteen minutes moving around the shed shaking hands, making eye contact and smiling at the workers like a campaigning politician.

  “Now ladies, before I go, I want you to do one more thing. Will you sing for me again?”

  Hilda was ready—as if she had control of the Moscow Women Workers’ Choir.

  “All right, Millicent!”

  Millicent’s haunting voice began the mournful intro to “What’ll I Do”—an ode to, and chosen especially for, Thomson. He again became totally mesmerized.

  At the chorus all the women on the floor joined in. Thomson stood enraptured until Knoxwood signaled it was time to leave. With a wave of his fine, long fingers and a gentlemanly bow, he put on his hat, turned toward the door and was gone. His people followed.

  Before Scott left the building he leaned close to Lou and whispered in his ear. “This lot would have his trousers off in seconds flat, if we weren’t here. Poor bugger wouldn’t stand a chance.” Lou smiled. He was the last to leave.

  The women were staring at the empty space where Thomson had stood, as though it’d all been a dream—the spell now broken. They stopped singing and went wild with excitement, swarming around Nellie, the woman who’d handled so many skins. She was suffering the infatuation of a pubescent girl—beet red and sweating profusely.

  “Oh my good Gawd, I ain’t never talked to no lawd before! Oh my good Gawd,” she kept mumbling over and over.

  “ ‘Ee definitely fancied you, love,” one shouted.

  “You’d like to clean ’is skin for ’im, Nellie, eh!”

  “Oh, ‘ee was so lovely,” Nellie swooned.

  “Ah, look at the state of ’er, she’s in love!”

  Before he left, Lou noticed a girl waving to him and smiling. It took him a moment to figure out it was Rosie Cameron. He hadn’t recognized her in her work clothes and protective hat.

  I guess this is where Jessup met her.

  31

  SPEECHES & SURPRISES

  June 19, 1929.

  Lou left the gas bag factory laughing to himself—it’d been an education. He followed the rest of the party to Cardington House, where the press was being directed to the rear gardens. Afternoon tea was served by the men in white jackets in the reception hall—an assortment of sandwiches, followed by buttered scones with fresh cream and strawberry jam. The chief steward ensured cucumber sandwiches were on the table, remembering Thomson’s favorable comments back in ’24. He hovered around while Thomson munched and nodded his approval.

  In the gardens below the open windows, the murmur of the assembling crowd drowned out the gentle splash of an ornate fountain—a romantic creation, peopled by stone cherubs clutching bows and arrows, presumably arrows of love. Toward the end of tea-time, Thomson gently tapped a silver spoon against his cup. The room fell silent.

  “Last year, I had the honor, as chairman of the Royal Aero Club, to represent Great Britain at the International Conference on Aviation in Washington, D.C. Whilst there, I had the pleasure of meeting the Secretary of the United States Navy.” Thomson’s eyes fell on Lou, at whom he smiled benignly. “We spoke of many things concerning aviation and the Secretary takes quite an interest in their man over here—Lieutenant Louis Remington—who has diligently assisted in our endeavors over these past five years.”

  All eyes turned toward Lou. Thomson continued. “The Secretary asked me to personally convey his thanks to the lieutenant, along with his warmest personal regards. Captain Irwin, I would be grateful if you will do the honors.”

  On cue, Irwin walked to the top of the room and stood with Thomson who glanced at Lou. “Lieutenant, if you would kindly step forward,” Thomson said. Surprised, Lou joined Thomson and Irwin. Thomson held something in his hand which he handed to Irwin who spoke next.

  “Lieutenant Remington, it is my pleasure to inform you that your rank has been raised by the United States Navy to that of Lieutenant Commander.”

  Lou stood to attention while Irwin pinned the insignia to his collar. Irwin then stepped back and saluted. Lou returned the salute and everyone applauded. Lou glanced around the room at Colmore, Scott, Irwin and Atherstone—all in dress uniform.

  Whaddya know, these guys all knew in advance!

  “Thank you, sir,” Lou said to Irwin, and then to Thomson as they shook hands, “I’m very grateful, sir.”

  Thomson smiled, pleased. He loved these occasions. The chief steward appeared to be swooning and nodding enthusiastically at Lou as he pointed to an iced cake on the front table.

  “Now, if you will kindly move to the garden, I’d like to say a few words to you and the good people of Cardington and Bedford,” Thomson said.

  Thomson’s entourage moved from the entrance hall down the stone steps into the garden, an area some two hundred feet square flanked by boxwood hedges and flowering trees. This had once been the previous philanthropic owner’s outdoor theater, complete with a stage built of stone where Shakespearean tragedies were performed. Rough cut flagstone paving covered much of the area and two hundred steel folding chairs were occupied by a group of people similar to those who’d been present when Thomson made his announcement in ’24: Royal Airship Works personnel, local bankers, businessmen, and solicitors. In addition, there were contractors, and general workers from the factories and sheds connected with the airship program with their families.

  Crewmen and construction workers stood along the sides and at the rear of the gathering, leaving seats for VIPs and the elderly. The first four rows had been reserved for those emerging from the reception room. Journalists were seated in the front row with photographers positioned down each side in the aisles.

  There were two in the audience of note, sitting at the front: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Mrs. Emily Hinchliffe, the wife of Thomson’s pilot, dressed in black. A buzz went around the crowd as people noticed them. Lou had no idea who the portly, older gentleman was until someone told him he was the most popular author in the world. (He’d get a kick out of telling Norway about that!). Lou had met Mrs. Hinchliffe the previous year, during one of his monthly visits to Cardington.

  A lectern had been set up on the stage with a microphone and six chairs. The crowd chattered excitedly. Thomson was pleased with the size of the gathering. They were all here out of self-interest. Times were tough and work was scarce. It was satisfying for Thomson to know he’d created jobs in two counties.

  These people love me now, posh accent or not—they know on which side their bread’s buttered!

  Thomson sipped the last of his Earl Grey and replaced his bone china cup carefully on its saucer. He went out through the French doors, held open for him by the fawning chief steward and
descended the steps like a conquering hero to enthusiastic applause. He walked stiffly down the center aisle to the stage where Colmore, Brancker, Knoxwood, Scott and Richmond sat. As he approached, they got to their feet, applauding and smiling. Thomson sat down. Colmore went to the lectern and waited for the applause to die down. All seats were occupied and the aisles down each side were filled with people standing between the chairs and hedges.

  Lou stood at the rear of the garden with his crewmen, foremen, construction workers, and of course, Freddie. Chief Coxswain ‘Sky’ Hunt stood behind them. Lou had known Hunt for years and had great respect for him. He’d trained Lou for his job as chief petty officer aboard R38. He was gruff, but well-loved, known for a bark worse than his bite. Lou noticed Jessup standing with a group of six at the back on the other side. Jessup kept his eyes down. Murmuring in the crowd grew as tension increased. Binks found all the fuss amusing.

  “Wonder what the old gasbag’s got to say for ’imself,” he said.

  Sky Hunt turned to Binks. “Keep yer mouth shut, Mr. Binks,” he growled.

  Colmore cleared his throat and adjusted the microphone, causing a screeching whine from the speakers on each side of the podium.

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. It is my distinct pleasure to introduce the Minister of State for Air, Lord Thomson of Cardington, whom we all know and admire. He’d like to say a few words concerning our progress and the future of the British Airship Program. Before I turn over the microphone, I’d like to say, all of us owe him a debt of gratitude, not only for revitalizing the airship program, but for making the Royal Airship Works central to his great vision.” There was more enthusiastic applause.

  Thomson got up from his chair and stepped up to the lectern. He adjusted the microphone up six inches, causing another earsplitting screech.

  “Wing Commander Colmore is much too kind,” Thomson said. “I’m just one man doing my small part. It is you who will make this program a success, not I. My job is to jolly things along. This great endeavor that you’ve worked upon with such selfless dedication—and I must say, I’ve seen it with my own eyes today—is one that will open the skies for the benefit of all mankind.”

  Binks was unable to resist. “Yeah, right, mate,” he said under his breath. Lou frowned. Binks shut up.

  “We’ve reached a critical stage in the development of the program. In some ways we’re out in front—from the technology standpoint—but in other ways—on the practical front—we’re falling behind. The Germans made their maiden flight last year, crossing the Atlantic in their Graf Zeppelin. They’re preparing to make a round-the-world trip in August, and if we’re not careful, we’ll be in a position where we cannot keep pace.”

  Everyone now looked concerned. “With this in mind, I say to you: We must push hard to produce results as quickly as possible. We must show the world what we can do. It’s been more than five years since I announced the start of the program and our ships are still in the sheds. I’ll leave it there. I know you appreciate what I’m saying, and why.”

  Thomson was careful not to single anyone out with his icy stare, but could see the audience understood only too well. Richmond and Colmore had taken his words to heart. It was time to build them back up.

  “Having said that, I’m certain we’ll come out on top. When this ship emerges from her shed this year, she’ll be the finest airship ever built—about that, I have no doubt.” Thomson looked reassuringly at Richmond, but Richmond didn’t exude confidence. Thomson went on.

  “Now, we’ve embarked upon a great journey, you and I, and I look forward to the day when we fly together in this magnificent airship down the route of Marco Polo to India. And thereafter, we shall press forward with airship services linking our great empire around the globe and build bigger, more advanced airships that’ll become technological marvels of the world.”

  Thomson stepped back and the crowd was on its feet, applauding. He’d rallied the troops. Everyone was smiling except Richmond. Success, or failure, rested with him. It was at this point that Mrs. Hinchliffe stood up and started saying something. Everyone turned in her direction. Lou couldn’t hear what she was saying, but judging by the embarrassed looks, she must have been making some sort of protest. Thomson switched off the microphone and replied to her statements. This exchange lasted some minutes until Thomson, clearly irritated, descended from the platform and marched down the center aisle, followed by those on the stage.

  They reached the throng of people at the top of the aisle, which parted like the Red Sea. Thomson climbed the steps, followed by the multitude. When he reached the top, he gave the crowd a jubilant wave. He swept through the reception room, out the main entrance and down the front steps to the Humber, where the driver held the doors open. They drove off slowly, the driver tooting his horn and Thomson waving his royal wave.

  “Well, I think that went off all right, except for that damned Hinchliffe woman at the end. We’ll need to keep an eye on her,” Thomson said.

  “Fwankly Minister, you were marvelous. I shouldn’t worry about her,” Knoxwood said.

  “Top hole!” Brancker exclaimed.

  Later, Lou jumped on his motorcycle and rode over to Shed No.1 to meet Irwin, who’d requested to see him. He waited beside the control car and soon heard the captain’s approaching footsteps echoing across the shed.

  “Ah, Lou. Let’s go aboard,” he said.

  They climbed on board and Irwin led the way up to the lounge where they sat in the wicker easy chairs at one of the card tables. Lou wasn’t sure why Irwin wanted to see him and worried perhaps he’d known Lou was on board earlier.

  “You and the crew did a great job, Lou. The Old Man was thrilled.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Lou said, relieved.

  “Perhaps you should be an interior decorator!”

  “No, all we did was set it up. He ought to be pleased; it’s a beautiful ship.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” Irwin said. “We’ll see what she’s made of when we take her up.” Irwin glanced down at the table for a moment, then back at Lou.

  “Congratulations on your promotion today.”

  “Thank you, sir. That came as a big surprise.”

  “Everyone was pleased about it. You’ve done a great job at Howden. You’re a natural diplomat and you’ve helped keep the peace.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How’s Charlotte? Is she taking kindly to all this?”

  “I think she’ll be pleased with my promotion, and proud. She’s settled down fairly well here now. She really didn’t want to come south.”

  “Yes, I got that impression.”

  “She’s been worried about safety, naturally, but everyone’s assured her these new ships will be safe.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Irwin said.

  “Charlotte’s pleased I’m happy and doing what I like. I think once we’ve got a few trips under our belt, she’ll be okay.”

  “She’s a wonderful girl.”

  “What Charlotte needs is a child. In fact, she wants lots of children! But no luck so far. That’s what makes her most unhappy,” Lou said.

  “We want a family one day—we’ve even chosen a name for our first,” Irwin said.

  “What is it, sir?”

  Irwin looked away, concentrating on an image in his mind. “D’you know, when I close my eyes sometimes, I can see that child. His name will be Christian. I see his black hair and blue eyes.”

  “Just like his dad.”

  “It’s all up to the good Lord,” Irwin said.

  “I guess so.”

  Irwin turned his eyes back on Lou, his expression now business-like.

  “Lou, I’m going to propose you for another promotion—to third officer—if you want it. You’ll be under my command aboard this ship and Captain Booth on Howden R100.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know what to say, sir.”

  “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders and the crewmen look up to you.”

&nbs
p; “I suppose they do.”

  “You survived R38 and that experience will make you careful.”

  “That was just luck.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. I need men with good luck on my ship.”

  “Kind of you to say, sir.”

  “If all the things the Old Man says come true, the sky’s the limit. He’ll be in need of captains for the fleet.”

  They got up and shook hands, went down to the shed floor and stood alongside the ship.

  “Oh, one more thing, Lou. I like to see my officers and crew in church on Sundays.” Irwin looked up at the ship, a hint of skepticism in his eyes. “We’ll need all the help we can get,” he said, before abruptly marching off toward the exit.

  32

  DINING ALONE

  June 19, 1929.

  Thomson sat at the roll-top desk in the front lounge of his Westminster flat. Though pleased with himself and his trip to Cardington, he had a gnawing feeling something wasn’t right with that airship. Richmond had seemed gloomy. Thomson hoped there were no major concerns, but supposed all would be revealed when they launched her this year.

  The Hinchliffe woman had put a damper on things. He tried to put it out of his mind. He wondered about Barnes Wallis and his group. They were a secretive bunch up there. He set these thoughts aside and picked up his most recent letter from Marthe. He needed to inform her of today’s events—tell her about his triumphant return! She smiled down from a silver picture frame on top of the desk.

  The long, austere room had ornate ceilings and cornice work with cream-painted walls and moldings similar to the rest of the flat. Although comfortable, the place lacked a woman’s touch. The tall, Georgian windows overlooked the street where Saturday night traffic passed to and fro with a gentle hum. The furniture, various shades of browns and beiges, was second-hand, but passable. A brown, woven-wool couch faced the fireplace, complemented by a mahogany coffee table with a black leather top. He liked it when he found it in the furniture shop in Stockwell and the dealer threw it in for an extra ten bob.