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

by David Dennington

“Sir, we deeply regret the delay, but we’d like to discuss solutions,” Richmond said.

  At this, Thomson brightened and smiled pleasantly.

  “I must point out we followed the rules rigidly, especially regarding safety. And we’ve been innovative to an unprecedented degree. The Howden ship will be using highly flammable petrol, whereas we’ll be carrying much safer diesel fuel.”

  “Yes, yes, you said all that before, Richmond. At least they’ll have enough lift to carry fuel.”

  “Sir, we have options.”

  Thomson thought for a moment. “How much lift does Burney have?”

  Richmond looked pained.

  “They’re saying they’ve got over fifty-three tons,” Colmore answered.

  “I doubt that’s true,” Richmond bristled.

  “If Wallis is saying it, it probably is true, and we’re going to look pretty damned silly,” Thomson said.

  Lou entered the dining room where the stewards had laid out a light buffet of starter dishes and snacks with tea and coffee. MPs were helping themselves, chatting happily, well into their cocktails. Lou counted twenty-three in the dining room, mostly standing. He went to the lounge—another thirty-nine. On the promenade deck on the port side there were eleven and on starboard, eight. Eighty-one total. He wrote it down. He spotted the chief steward.

  “Chief, see Mr. Churchill over there, with the cigar?”

  “Yes, I do indeed, sir. He’s a scary one, that one—like a bloomin’ bulldog!”

  “Tell the stewards to keep an eye on him—just in case.”

  “Ooooh, believe me, sir, we’re watching him like a hawk. He makes me very nervous. I’m the nervy type.”

  “I see, well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Lou said.

  “Commander, I prefer to be called Pierre if you don’t mind—it’s Peter really, but I like it the French way, you know…” He smoothed a lock of hair back over his ear. Lou suspected he was wearing an expensive hairpiece.

  “Okay, Pierre it is.”

  “How many more should we expect, sir? They’re coming on board by the dozen.”

  “I’m not sure. You got plenty of chow?”

  “Enough to feed the five thousand,” Pierre answered.

  Lou hurried off to the control car.

  “How many you got now?” Irwin asked.

  “Eighty-one and counting.”

  “How’s Hunt doing?”

  “Fuel and ballast drained as instructed, sir.”

  “There’s no sign of a break in the weather. We’ll give it thirty minutes. Anyway, make sure our passengers are comfortable.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Thomson leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about these solutions,” he said, his tone reasonable.

  “I’m proposing we lighten her, as I said in the report. We made a list of items we can live without …it was in the report.”

  Thomson showed them a look of disgust. He’d studied it.

  “You intend to remove cabins and bunks and bathrooms—most disappointing!”

  “We’ve already increased the capacity of the gas bags.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “We slackened the harnesses, sir.”

  “The harnesses holding the gas bags in place?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Thomson tried to comprehend this. It was confusing. He glared at Richmond.“Why weren’t they adjusted to give maximum capacity in the first place?”

  Richmond looked uncomfortable. “It’s not the ideal situation, sir.”

  This part Thomson hadn’t properly understood in the report.

  “I see,” he said vaguely.

  “And finally, I’m suggesting we add another bay,” Richmond said.

  An expression of well-planned incredulity came over Thomson’s face. “Just how in the world would you do that?”

  “It’s in the report, sir. We’ll need to part her and insert an extra bay which will carry another gas bag—giving us a further nine tons of lift.”

  “By ‘part her’ you mean cut the thing in two pieces?”

  “Yes, sir, we’ll build an extra section and insert it.”

  Thomson let them see he was irritated now. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is to the government and to me personally?”

  Lou returned to the dining room. The place was heaving now, the plates picked clean. Tea and coffee were still being served by the stewards, but gin and whisky were in greater demand. In the lounge, Churchill sat with the unlit cigar in his mouth, removing it to take a sip of cognac or coffee once in a while. He looked up at Lou with a precocious smile.

  “You see I’m behaving myself, Commander.”

  “It’s much appreciated, sir,” Lou responded.

  “Besides, you’ve got all these people in white coats watching me!”

  Lou laughed, continuing to count heads. He returned to the control car.

  “Eighty-two on board now, sir.”

  “And they’re still coming,” Irwin said, pointing at the gates.

  “Who was it said ‘Nothing like a hundred would show up’?” Atherstone said. More cars were arriving and ground crewmen were escorting occupants to the tower under umbrellas.

  Thomson had turned up the heat.

  “We certainly do realize it’s embarrassing and we sincerely apologize. But please, with respect, sir, understand that the design of this airship is entirely new—much of it experimental,” Colmore said with uncharacteristic boldness.

  “But Burney’s people seem to be doing so much better, do they not?” Thomson snapped.

  “They don’t have the glare of publicity like we do, sir. We are trapped by it.”

  “So, it’s all this publicity that is causing the airship to be so overweight, is it? Don’t be ridiculous, man. I’m required to play the press every day like a damned Stradivarius—justifying your existence. Now, I’m forced to go before the House, cap in hand, and explain why it’s necessary to tear the damned thing apart and rebuild it!”

  “But sir, all this is easily explainable—” Richmond began.

  Thomson’s face became contorted with anger.

  “I favored you people from the start, giving you every advantage. Despite that, it looks as though the Howden ship is still the superior ship.”

  “We don’t know that yet, do we, sir?” Colmore said, his face showing hurt.

  “If that ship rolls out and flies rings around you, we’re all going to have egg on our faces,” Thomson snapped.

  “I’m sure that won’t happen,” Richmond said.

  “When is it coming out?”

  “Howden’s ready to launch now, sir,” Colmore replied.

  “If I secure funding, how long will these modifications take?”

  “Three months, sir,” Richmond said.

  “We’ll need time for testing after that,” Colmore reminded them.

  Thomson calmed down. “The Prime Minister’s Conference is scheduled to begin next October. I want to make the trip to India and arrive back in time for that.”

  Thomson noticed Richmond’s eyes dart back and forth to the painting of the Taj behind him. He seemed mesmerized by it. But overall they seemed to be getting comfortable again, believing the worst was over.

  “That ought to be do-able, sir,” Colmore said, now actually smiling.

  “The Commonwealth Prime Ministers will have traveled for weeks to get here. I intend to demonstrate how airships will improve their lives and the lives of their citizens.”

  “I understand, sir. And you will be demonstrating your point brilliantly. It will be a major coup on your part,” Richmond said. The meeting had gone according to plan, but Thomson wasn't quite done with them yet.

  The weather conditions at Cardington had worsened, with winds up to 60 mph. Rain continued pounding the airship, but still more MPs arrived. By 11 o’clock, Lou had counted one hundred. He returned to the control car, where Scott and the captain were in a heated discussion. Atherstone was also present
, but saying nothing. Irwin looked round at Lou.

  “What’s the count now?”

  “One hundred, sir, plus forty-eight crew.”

  “I’m well aware of the count. I’ve given orders not to allow any more on board. Now, are you ready to depart?” Scott asked.

  “This flight’s canceled. The weather’s worsening and we’re overloaded.”

  “This flight certainly is not canceled, Irwin,” Scott shouted angrily.

  “I’m the captain of this ship and it will not be taking off today.”

  “Now you see here. I’m your superior and I demand you prepare for take-off.”

  “Indeed you are my superior, sir, but you are not the captain of this ship. I am!” Irwin and Atherstone stood shoulder to shoulder facing Scott, their arms folded, guarding access to the ship’s wheels. “To take off in this weather with a hundred and forty-eight people on board would be suicide—unless, of course, it’s your intention to wipe out half the British government in one fell swoop. I suggest, sir, with the greatest respect, that you return to the dining saloon and have yourself another drink with the other gentlemen.” Irwin’s words sank in. Scott, his face red with fury, was beaten. He turned abruptly and headed back upstairs. Irwin turned to Lou again. “Tell Hunt to drain off half the fuel and half the ballast we have left. And tell him to make sure and keep the gas bags charged all afternoon. Then instruct the chief steward to serve lunch.”

  “Aye, aye, sir!” Lou said.

  Thomson stared at Colmore and Richmond for some moments, reminiscing and carefully considering his words. He was going to enjoy this.

  “I’m going to tell you a story, gentlemen. During the Boer War, we received a message: ‘clear the line immediately. I am coming through. I knew who ‘I’ was—it was Lord Kitchener. Now I realized, ‘doing my best’ would not be good enough. Saying ‘I tried’ wouldn’t work either. Clearing the line and getting him through would be the only measure of success. I assembled a force of a thousand men and personally supervised the pulling of twenty railway cars off the tracks onto their sides. Kitchener got through, and from that day forth, he never forgot my name.”

  Thomson got up from his chair and, resting his hands on the desk, leaned over Colmore and Richmond. His piercing eyes bore into them.

  “Kitchener did not recognize the word ‘impossible.’ Kitchener did not accept the concept of ‘failure’ …and neither will I. Your mission is set in stone. Do I make myself clear, gentlemen?”

  Thomson stood up straight. Colmore and Richmond jumped up and came to attention. “Yes sir, very clear, sir,” Colmore answered.

  “Perfectly clear, sir!” Richmond echoed.

  They froze as the telephone rang. It was Thomson’s private line. He picked it up and listened. “Yes.” A look of disbelief came over his face followed by fury.

  Am I surrounded by fools?

  “What time was this? On whose order? Find out and let me know.”

  He replaced the receiver and glared at them. “Someone up there has canceled the flight. I want to know who it was and why. There was a lot riding on this. Now, in front of the Government up there, we’re being made to look weak—as if airships can fly only in good weather. They must be shown to be capable of flying in any weather! Got that?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Thomson nodded for them to leave and sat down. No handshakes. He was done with them for now.

  After Lou informed Pierre that the ship would not be leaving the tower, within minutes, an army of stewards laid out a lavish buffet on silver platters with every conceivable type of British food, only seen on the aristocratic tables of the finest houses and restaurants: pheasant, duck, grouse, turkey, chicken, beef, lamb, pork, baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, Brussels sprouts, peas, broccoli, carrots, runner beans, turnips and parsnips. And to go with that, an array of complementary sauces: white sauce, cheese sauce, mint sauce, Oxo gravy, Bisto gravy and cranberry sauce. The collection of wines available was worthy of a fine French restaurant.

  A line formed and everyone attacked the buffet then made their way to the lounge to sit. They enjoyed themselves immensely and, although the ship was being buffeted by sixty mph winds, she was very stable. The cover leaked badly, but buckets were strategically located above the passenger area ceilings to catch the water, and efficiently rotated and emptied by crewmen. Lou prayed no one would fall through the ceiling onto the diners.

  After lunch, a variety of exotic desserts was served: crème brûlée, chocolate soufflé, honey wine pears, and sherry trifle, as well as some not-so-exotic: spotted dick, date pudding, jam roly-poly, bread and butter pudding, and rhubarb and custard. A handful of MPs went to the smoking room, including Churchill, where they smoked their Cubans. Lou saw to it that this operation was supervised by Pierre as before, keeping the door locked from inside with finished cigars properly doused. Lou made observations and reported to the captain every fifteen minutes, as instructed.

  The feast was over by 4 o’clock and passengers began leaving. Irwin stood at the exit door of the lounge with Lou and Scott, who was in the same state of inebriation as their guests. Lou and Irwin felt Lady Luck had been kind and they were relieved it was over. The MP for Staines shuffled up to Scott with a group of other gentlemen. They shook hands.

  “Thanks for a splendid flight, old man.”

  “Didn’t feel a thing.”

  “Smooth as a baby’s bottom, sir.”

  “I’ll definitely fly with you again.”

  “If this is a sample of the food you’ll be serving on these voyages, you can put my name down, Captain,” the MP for Barking said.

  Irwin grinned.

  “Let’s have some pretty gals on board next time, what!”

  “Yes, wonderful.”

  “Reserve me a berth on the first India flight.”

  “Yes, and me, and me …”

  Scott’s replies were just as daft and incoherent. Irwin and Lou shook their hands, all the while trying not to collapse with laughter. The flight of 100 MPs had been a smashing success!

  PART SEVEN

  THE DUEL BEGINS

  50

  THE LAUNCHING OF HOWDEN R100

  December 16, 1929.

  It was ten minutes past two. The air over the Howden shed was dead calm, the sky, deep midnight blue, fading to black at its outer edges. Lou stood at the shed doors studying the full moon and scattered stars. He never failed to be amazed. He wondered where the animals were tonight. His question was answered by an owl tawit-ta-wooing off somewhere in the distance, followed by a chilling vixen’s scream. Even after all these years, this place still had a magical, almost holy feel. He reminisced, recalling his first visit in ’21 with the Navy, and then his many subsequent visits in the middle of the night, leaving Charlotte sleeping peacefully in their bed. Once here, he’d communed with nocturnal animals and ghostly memories of his dead buddies, to whom he felt he owed a heavy debt. Footsteps behind interrupted his thoughts.

  “What are you up to, Lou?”

  “Ah, Nevil.”

  “Barnes got back last night.”

  They glanced across the frost-covered field toward the bungalows. All the lights were on; everyone was up and around. Lou had traveled up by train with Billy the day before, having received word from the Cardington meteorological office that the weather would be settled enough for launching. When Norway met them in his three-wheeled sardine can, they squeezed into the thing and drove to the shed where cots had been set up for them to sleep in Lou’s old office.

  The works canteen would be operating during the evening and throughout the night. There’d be plenty of cold, hungry people around in the coming hours. Lou called and spoke to John Bull who agreed to pick up Billy’s mother, Fanny, in Goole at 3:30 a.m. and bring her to see Billy off. John told Lou there was no way he’d miss out on seeing the launch of Howden R100.

  After the flight of the 100 MPs, Cardington R101 had remained on the tower under a condition of ‘Storm Watch.’ Due to
windy conditions, it’d been impossible to walk her into her shed until the end of November. Howden R100, although completed and ready since early November, couldn’t be launched until the Cardington tower was available.

  The weather had remained unsettled until today: 16th December, 1929. A whole contingent of R.A.W. people, including Colmore, Scott and Inspector McWade, traveled to Howden and were ensconced in the Railway Station pub and one or two bed and breakfast establishments around the village. The ship’s officers, Capt. Booth and Capt. Meager had been in Howden for over two months.

  Out of the darkness, John Bull’s Humber came chattering across the gravel driveway, up to the parking area beside the shed. Another car followed, carrying George Hunter and a photographer from the Daily Express. They also had a reporter from the Hull Times with them. After saying hello, Lou found Billy and sent him to the canteen to bring tea and toast for John and Fanny.

  He then took John and Fanny to the office for half an hour, where it was warm. Norway disappeared on board the airship with Booth and Meager. The aerodrome was coming alive. Two buses arrived with the crew of riggers and engineers. Shortly after that, another, smaller bus with Cardington R.A.W. staff appeared. Next came a convoy of twenty-two buses from the barracks in York, carrying five hundred soldiers. The narrow road leading to the air station became choked with traffic.

  John and Fanny retreated to the edge of the field and stood with the tiny crowd from surrounding areas. The hundred and fifty foot high shed doors were opened, revealing Howden R100’s silver bow in the arc lights. Soon, Molly Wallis came and took John and Fanny back to her bungalow, out of the bitter cold for more hot drinks. Wallis, in a smart black overcoat, entered the shed to prepare for the extraction with Capt. Booth and the riggers ballasting up. Though gaunt, Wallis looked in good spirits and greeted Lou warmly.

  “How are you, sir?” Lou asked.

  “Wonderful, thank you, Lou.”

  Norway had told Lou that Wallis had been in Harrogate with Molly trying to relax, but had been suffering, not only from migraine headaches and insomnia, but also nausea and lack of appetite.