“Relax, son,” his father said. “We’ll see it in a minute, don’t you worry.”
At 3:40 a.m. a beam of light shot into the sky over Cardington, prompting a cheer from the men. This happened three times—three short blasts, three cheers. They’d earn a little money today—enough to put food on the table for a day or two.
“There it is, Dad!”
“Take your time, son. I’ll go and get seats. Easy does it.” Freddie’s father rushed off to one of the five waiting buses to save two seats. Freddie limped after his father at his own pace.
Lou got to Cardington at 3:00 a.m. in his newly-issued, dark blue uniform (his with U.S. Navy insignia). The other officers would be dressed similarly. On his way to the shed, Lou glanced at the fair, which had been going all night. Its colorful flashing lights, carousel steam organ, and carnival atmosphere, spilled over the new chain-link fence, across the aerodrome, creating a mood of gaiety and celebration. Newspapers said people were traveling from all over the country to witness the launching of the world’s greatest airship.
Thousands had been at the fence when Lou left last night and thousands more had shown up overnight. They kept vigil, all eyes glued on the shed doors. Would they open to reveal the shed’s secrets for the first time at daybreak? Spectators watched ground crewmen and airshipmen going to and fro all night. No one wanted to miss this historic event—the first sighting of the mighty Cardington R101.
Lou made his way to the control car. Irwin and Atherstone had already arrived. Above, in the chartroom, Johnston leaned on the rail. Lou gave him a wave. He responded with a grin. There were no journeys to be plotted, but everyone was on board and ready, just in case the ship should break away. It would be disastrous to be aloft involuntarily without charts, a navigator, sufficient crewmen, or fuel. Lou knew that feeling first hand from the R38 accident, as did Sky Hunt and Capt. Booth after R33 had been ripped from its mast and blown away to the Continent a few years previously.
Airships can be unpredictable creatures.
Lou recalled the thrill of flying in R38 those first months—feelings of elation during the flight over Yorkshire; the wonder of looking down at the world in miniature; living, eating and sleeping in the clouds. It’d been a whole new way of life with its own terminology. Even small things—the smell of a new airship and the antics of the ship’s cat, Fluffy, intrepid rat and mouse killer—had sparked excitement in him. And then came the crash. It’d been eight years. Would those good feelings ever return? He was skeptical.
“Good morning, sir,” Lou said, looking at Irwin.
“Morning, Commander,” Irwin said with a nod.
Lou smiled at Atherstone. “Today’s the day!” Atherstone said.
“I’m early, sir. All right if I go ashore for a while? I’d like to see what’s happening on the field,” Lou said.
“Sure you can. It’s organized chaos out there,” Irwin replied.
He got outside in time to see Scott give the order to shine the searchlight into the air to signal the walking party groups around the region. A cheer went up at the fence. Many had been on the field since Thursday night and were now confident they’d catch a glimpse of the ship today. Lou studied the faces; in addition to genuine excitement, he perceived hope.
The transport of five hundred men by bus and positioning them on the field would take a good hour or two. Lou hung around near the front of the shed where Scott stood with a bullhorn in one hand. He was giving orders to two gangs engaged in opening the shed doors, which stood over a hundred and fifty feet high. Six men pulled ropes turning two capstans, easing the doors open, inch by inch. As the gleaming ship’s bow was revealed, another louder cheer went up. A steel curtain was opening on an exciting drama—a contest of leviathans! Scott appeared pleased with the crowd’s reaction, as though he were some great conductor.
Lou scanned the field. White lines had been painted on the grass as guidelines for the walking party to follow from the shed to the tower. Down the field, a man on horseback was driving a flock of sheep into a nearby pasture. Lou smiled.
The captain was right. It’s chaos all right!
Around the fence, car headlights illuminated people boiling up water for tea on primus stoves and cooking eggs and bacon—it was like camping out. For others, it was too early; they slept under blankets in the backs of cars, their mouths wide open. Not everyone cooked for themselves. Vendors had set up along the fence, roasting chestnuts and potatoes. Others sold cheese sandwiches, bread and dripping, and cups of tea or cocoa. Hawkers yelled enticements to the crowd to buy souvenirs commemorating this day; postcards, photographs, flags and trinkets were all on sale at inflated prices. In the distance, the brightly lit Ferris wheel slowly turned, while sounds of the carousel organ drifted their way.
“Morning, sir.”
Lou spun around to see Billy behind him.
“Ah, Billy, you’re bright and early. What are you up to this morning?”
“The foreman told me to muck in with the walking party when it gets ’ere and then ’elp out the ground crew.”
“Good. Have you had something to eat?”
“Yes, I ’ad a bacon an’ egg sandwich before I left Freddie’s.”
“They taking good care of you?”
“Yes, they’re nice to me, especially his mum.”
“Good. You’re gonna need them muscles this morning, kid.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m taking some of the crew to the fair later. Why don’t you and Freddie come.”
Billy broke into a grin. “Oh yes, Lou. We’ll come, all right.”
Thirty minutes later, at 5:00 a.m. a convoy of buses drew up to the gates and hundreds of men poured onto the field and ambled toward the shed, among them Freddie and his father. Another cheer went up from the crowd and Lou spotted a black limousine approaching, followed by three other official-looking cars. The windows of the limousine were open and the interior lights on, allowing the crowd to view the occupants. The motorcade moved toward the tower, and when it stopped Lou saw Thomson, Brancker and Knoxwood climb out. He realized they must have stayed overnight at Cardington House. Lou had to give the old man his due. He took a personal interest in the program he’d put in motion. He was also a master at managing public relations—and this was an opportunity not to be missed.
By now, ropes had been stretched out by the ground crews from the pulling rings on the airship and laid across the grass along the lines toward the mooring tower. Scott addressed the walking party.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he boomed. “I want you to form four lines across the field. Space yourselves six feet apart. The rest of you take up the lines at the stern and along the port and starboard sides as she comes out.”
The men took up their positions, most of them old hands. Lou walked along the line to where Thomson stood. Brancker poured coffee from a thermos flask into a cup held by Thomson. Next to them was a BBC van and a radio announcer. Lou listened.
“This is Donald Carpenter, speaking to you from the airfield at Cardington, home of the giant airship Cardington R101. This is an historic occasion indeed, for today she’ll be pulled from her shed where she's been under construction. Beside me, I have the architect of the British Imperial Airship Program, the honorable Lord Thomson of Cardington. Sir, this must be a very proud day for you?”
“Yes, indeed it is. The fine people of Bedfordshire have toiled with great dedication for five long years—since I announced the beginning of the airship program in 1924—and we are about to see the results of all their efforts …”
As a brass band struck up “Soldiers of the King”, Lou decided to return to the ship and marched briskly to the shed. He’d heard all this stuff before. It was still flat calm and cool—about 50 degrees—just right. He climbed the ladder into the hull and made his way to the control car. Nothing had changed there. The skipper was still standing with his hands tucked in his jacket pockets. Atherstone held a mug of coffee. Cameron was on this watch as he
ight coxswain. Another man was on the rudder wheel. Providing there were no mishaps, neither coxswain would be required to do anything. The men in the control car peered forward as dawn began casting its eerie glow over the field. The four columns of ant-like men waited for orders. Lou spotted Freddie behind his father, forward of the control car.
Scott put the bullhorn to his mouth. His orders echoed across the field and into the shed. “Take up the ropes.” Men in the walking party reached down and grabbed their ropes. “Take the strain.” The four lines became taut. “Forward march on the count of three …slowly …one …two …three!”
The columns moved as one, expertly in step. The airship, floating in well-balanced equilibrium, moved gently forward. At the first movement, there were cheers and applause and then the sound of car and truck horns from around the field. The din got louder with every step as the airship, almost the size of Titanic, was drawn from her shell, like a great sea creature. Once clear of the shed, the noise rose to a crescendo, drowning out the band, except for the thump, thump, thump! Ropes were attached to all sides and stern, and the crew held them tightly, keeping them taut to prevent the ship moving in the wrong direction, should there be an unexpected puff. These men were also there as ballast to prevent the ship lifting into the sky, should a sudden change in temperature cause an increase in lift. (This, as Lord Scunthorpe had eloquently pointed out in the House of Lords, hadn’t always worked out for the best!)
Within minutes, the ship had been walked to the center of the field and tethered to mooring rings set in the ground. From there, she was allowed to rise to eight hundred feet by dropping water ballast. The shining, silver ship floated in the sky for all to see for two hours, after which time, she was winched down and moved to the tower, where she was attached to the mooring cone at the top of the mast. Irwin had posted a watch list for a skeleton crew of ten men to remain on board at all times. He included himself on the ship’s first watch. Lou, Johnston and Atherstone disembarked with the crewmen.
40
THE GYPSY FORTUNE TELLER
October 12, 1929.
Later that morning, Lou met some of his crewmen at the fair. After the success of the launching, everyone was in high spirits. First, they rode horses on the carousel and then they split up. Lou took Billy and Freddie on the Ferris wheel—it was all they could talk about. Binks, Church and Cameron made their way around the attractions. Disley and Potter grabbed a hot dog.
From high atop the wheel, Lou and the two boys admired the scene. They got a good view of Cardington R101 at the tower and the aerodrome surrounded by sightseers. Lou noticed Binks and company had found the coconut shy and had made it their mission to dislodge the big hairy nuts. When the ride was over, they joined the others. Binks and Church were very upset.
“Better luck next time boys,” the fairground attendant said to Binks with a smirk.
“Yeah, right! Don’t give me all this ‘better luck next time’ bollocks.”
“They’ve got them things glued in,” Church yelled. He had one foot on the top rail about to jump over and prove his point.
Lou grabbed him by the arm. “Steady on there, Mr. Church.”
“We’ve hit the coconuts six times and they won’t budge,” Binks said.
“Calm down, guys. Come on, let’s go this way,” Lou said. Freddie spotted a clown’s head lit up in a glass display case on a stand. He went over to it and the others followed.
“Look at this,” Freddie said. “He looks real. Er, maybe he is real!”
The clown’s eyes were closed, but then he opened them briefly and blinked a couple of times. He had long white hair, a bald head and a bulbous red nose planted on his vivid white face. The lips were open, revealing a row of yellowed teeth. The caption read:
PUT A PENNY IN THE SLOT & MAKE HIM LAUGH
Freddie stood, fascinated. “Go on, Freddie, put a penny in then,” Church said.
Freddie hesitated. Lou figured the kid only had his bus fare in his pocket and handed him a penny. Freddie inserted it in the slot. They heard it drop. The clown suddenly came alive and Freddie jumped backwards in shock. Its bloodshot eyes opened wide, glaring at him, and then the head tilted back and its mouth exploded into crazy laughter. Everybody, save Freddie, joined the clown’s frivolity. The boy was visibly shaken. Lou put his arm around his shoulder and gave him a little shake. “Hey kid, don’t worry about it. It’s just a machine,” he said.
After they’d watched the clown, Billy came rushing up. A sign outside a red tent had caught his eye. “Hey, sir, I’d like to go in,” he said, pointing at the sign.
LET THE WORLD’S GREATEST CLAIRVOYANT
MADAM HARANDAH
THE ROMANIAN GYPSY
TELL YOUR FORTUNE
PSYCHIC READING
PALM READING
TAROT CARDS
3d EACH
Lou chuckled. “Come on then, guys.”
They piled into the gloomy tent, which smelled of damp grass and cow manure. Lou was last one in and smiled on seeing the reactions of his crewmen. Binks peered suspiciously up at the ceiling and walls. “This tent’s a lot bigger than it looks from outside,” he said. “It’s kinda strange!”
Freddie, still visibly shaken by the clown’s head, stood at a table covered with a green, baize cloth, peering at a collection of items: a polished wood block cradling a crystal ball, a rabbit’s foot, a deck of tarot cards, and a china bowl with burning incense. “Blimey, this place gives me the creeps,” he mumbled.
“Don’t be silly. It’s only a witch’s tent. Oh look, there’s her transport,” Billy said, pointing to a broomstick hanging over them next to a dim, red bulb dangling from an electric wire. Wisps of smoking incense in the eerie glow added to the weirdness. Lou laughed. Madame Harandah was obviously a joker—or was she? He didn’t have to wait long to find out.
Church, Disley and Potter gathered under a photograph of a beautiful woman in a blue headscarf hung on the fabric tent wall. It’d been colored and touched up by hand.
“She’s a smasher! Wonder if that’s her,” Church said.
“It’s me if you wanna know,” a voice growled from behind a black curtain. Billy was in the act of reaching out to touch the rabbit’s foot. “Don’t touch that, you little bugger!” the voice bellowed, scaring the life out of the boy.
A scruffy woman suddenly burst through the dark curtains. She seemed caught off guard by so many entering her tent. The crewmen were speechless, trying to take in this vision. Her eyes were glutinous, black pools set in a sea of bright blue eye shadow, glowering at them from under ridiculous, false eyelashes. Her eyebrows had been plucked out entirely and repainted in thin black lines, at once comical and frightening, and her puffy cheeks were rouged in a red blush almost as bright as her thick, ruby lips. Shiny, silver bangle earrings dangled from her lobes, as large as those on her wrists. She wore a purple headscarf from which graying, auburn hair sprouted and hung in ringlets to her waist. Her well-worn clothes—a ruffled, dark green blouse and an ankle-length black skirt—reeked of eau de cologne, cigarettes and mothballs.
“Gordon Bennett!” Binks exclaimed.
“What d’you lot want?” the woman demanded.
“We thought this was where you got your fortunes told,” Church said.
“You’ve come to the right place,” she bellowed.
“’Ere, you ain’t the gypsy in that picture! Where’s she?” Binks demanded.
“I certainly am! That was taken in Southend-on-Sea ten years ago. Any objections?”
“Forty years ago, more like,” Disley grumbled.
“Next you’ll want to see me bleedin’ birf certificate!”
“We thought you were supposed to be Romanian,” Potter said.
“I’m from the Elephant and Castle. Me dad was from Bucharest. So that makes me a Romanian gypsy—all right? If you don’t like it, you can sod off—the lot of yer!”
“Keep yer bleedin’ wool on, lady,” Binks said.
“Oka
y, if you’re stayin’, that’ll be sixpence each. Show me yer money.”
“The sign outside says threepence,” Freddie objected.
“All right, all right! Give me one and nine pence.”
“We should get a discount. You ought to do us all for one and six, the lot,” Church said.
“All right, all right! One and six. Put it right here,” she demanded, her craggy hand with long, purple fingernails outstretched.
“Oooh, cross me palm with silver,” Binks said.
Lou was thoroughly enjoying himself. He pulled out a shilling and a sixpence and put the coins in the old hag’s palm. They all held back while she sat down.
“Okay, whose gonna shuffle the cards?” she said.
“Give ’em to Sammy,” someone said.
Church went into action, his hands a blur, cutting and shuffling, cards flying from one hand to the other. Everyone whooped and whistled until the old dear was thoroughly irritated.
“All right! All right! That’s enough!” she shouted, grabbing the cards back.
“Go on Dizzy, you go first,” Church said. Disley slipped into the chair opposite Madam Harandah, who spread her cards into a fan on the table.
“I see you’re going on a journey,” she said.
“Oooooh, you don’t say,” Binks said, eyeing Lou’s uniform.
“Shut up, Joe. Let her tell me.”
She turned over another card. “I see you high in the sky.”
“This woman’s bloody amazin’!” Church said.
She turned over another.
“Ah, you’re the cool one. Electricity is your friend. You will deliver a message when the great game is over. Next!”
Disley screwed up his face in annoyance.
“What the hell does that mean, ‘Deliver a message when the great game is over’? What great game? Is that all I get for thra’pence? What a bloody swindle!”
The Airshipmen: A Novel Based on a True Story. A Tale of Love, Betrayal & Political Intrigue. Page 32