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

by David Dennington

  “Man, I’m so lucky,” he whispered.

  “You’re bloody freezing. Don’t you dare put your feet on me!”

  By the time Lou went aboard the ship next morning, Norway and his mechanics had made the repairs. Norway was nowhere to be found. He’d crawled under some blankets in one of the cabins in his teddy.

  Speed trials had been planned during this flight test, but in one of his in-flight inspections Norway had discovered a loose sealing strip across the rudder hinge, causing the cover to flap. Speed trials would have to wait and more repairs made. Howden R100 was brought back to the mast in the afternoon in freezing fog without fuss. She was then walked to the shed and put away for the Christmas holidays.

  When they were leaving the hangar, Norway came up with a brilliant idea—at least he thought it was brilliant. And the more Lou thought about it, the more he liked it. Norway said he was thinking of asking his girlfriend, Frances, to go skiing in Switzerland for Christmas and suggested that Lou and Charlotte join them. “You can be chaperones,” Norway said.

  “We can be your cover, you mean, you dirty dog!” Lou said.

  “No, I d-don’t mean that at all. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  “I like the idea, Nev. It would be a nice break for Charlie. We haven’t had any get-togethers since Freddie died. I know over Christmas she’s gonna sit around moping.”

  “So you’ll come?”

  “Yes, I expect so, but there’s one proviso: no screwing around. No creeping about in the middle of the night—you got that?”

  “I’m sh-sh-shocked you’d even s-suggest such a thing!”

  Since it was dark, Lou couldn’t see Norway blushing from ear to ear.

  52

  HOLIDAYS IN SWITZERLAND & PARIS

  Christmas 1929.

  Five days later, after rushing around to get Charlotte a passport, all four were in Murren, Switzerland having a wonderful time. Most importantly for Lou, Charlotte got back to her old self. They’d traveled through France by train, during which time, she’d became more subdued. But once they’d crossed the border into Switzerland, the sheer beauty of the place took her breath away and her mood changed. Throughout the days after that, Charlotte was in high spirits, especially when learning to ski (much of the time on her behind). On the last night, she played the piano in the hotel and a group of vacationers gathered around for a singsong. It was the best vacation Lou and his party had ever had, and they said so. For Lou and Charlotte, it was like a second honeymoon. It lasted ten days.

  When the holiday was over, Norway was happy to get back to work, resuming the tests on his airship. Lou had mixed emotions. He saw the pain the Cardington people were going through. He also knew Charlotte’s mood would likely falter.

  Just after the New Year, Thomson moved into a larger flat in Ashley Gardens with room for a study. He took on a parlor maid, to complement his present staff. Naturally, Sammie the cat went, too. Thomson sat at the credenza in the living room from where he usually wrote Marthe, her picture positioned in front of him, as always. Outside, the weather was foul; wind shook the window frames and rain beat on the glass.

  Dearest Marthe,

  Being a bone fide Englishman, naturally, I must talk about the weather. The New Year has burst upon us with a vengeance, with howling wind and torrential rain. I apologize for not replying sooner, but my schedule has been quite muddled. I’ll be in Paris on Tuesday of next week on the pretext of attending a dinner at the Chamber of Commerce. This is a blatant lie, of course. My reason for being in Paris is to be with the woman I adore.

  Fondest love always and forever, your Kit.

  The following week, Thomson set off in high spirits for Paris aboard an Imperial Airways flight, with thirteen other passengers. It turned out to be a bumpy ride and an even bumpier landing. On approaching Paris, they ran into impenetrable fog and had to turn back over Beauvais Ridge where they were violently buffeted about. One poor soul bumped his head on the ceiling. They landed safely in a field near Allonne with several mighty thuds.

  A local man, with other peasants, led the passengers and crew to their humble cottages and gave them shelter. Eventually, a car took Thomson to Beauvais Railway Station and he made it to Paris from there, arriving at Marthe’s apartment four hours late. Marthe had gathered a few mutual friends from Bucharest to see him. The trip turned out to be pleasant and successful regarding his official duties and his romantic ambitions.

  Thomson spent four blissful days with Marthe, strolling the streets and parks of Paris. They walked along the bank of the Seine, crossing the bridge to Notre Dame, where Marthe prayed fervently and lit four candles—for her father, her maid, her priest, and one for someone else—she wouldn’t say who. Thomson hoped it was for him. She knew he was wondering and looked at him with that maddening half smile. Did he detect a trace of guilt, too? He wasn’t sure.

  They climbed the hundreds of steps to Montmartre and went into Sacre-Coeur Basilica, where Marthe prayed again. They had splendid meals, some simple, some lavish. A whole day was spent in the magnificent Musée du Louvre, soaking up its treasures. In all that time, although he longed to, he never brought up the subject of his marriage proposal. He stayed at the British Embassy for one night and the rest of the time at Marthe’s apartment at Quay de Bourbon. After these few days, which filled Thomson’s soul with almost total contentment, it was time to get back to the daily slog of helping MacDonald run the Empire, and to continue driving the Airship Program forward. He left Marthe a note before departing.

  Dearest One,

  My sincerest appreciation for your gracious hospitality. As always, you have encouraged me to carry on in the fight we call ‘life.’ These days with you have been magically calming and I’m ready to carry on and meet the challenges that lie in wait. Again, I thank you, darling Marthe. I hope you are able to come to England for Easter.

  Au revoir. My eternal devotion, Kit.

  53

  BACK TO WORK

  January 1930.

  Upon his return to London, Thomson went to the House of Lords to make his report. He’d be breaking the bad news during this speech. He hoped the hostile lords would either be absent, or not pick up on all his statements. He spoke as softly as he could, since most were deaf.

  “I’m here to deliver a progress report concerning the Airship Program I introduced in 1924,” Thomson said. Aggressive mumbling and sneering began around the chamber. Smirks appeared on jowled faces. “I must remind you, we never claimed to be building two airships that would take to the skies and circumvent the globe immediately. No, that wasn’t the case at all!”

  “I thought you did,” someone muttered.

  “What did you say, then?” asked another.

  “What did he say? I can’t hear him.”

  “If any blame is to be cast concerning the lateness of these projects—I stand here ready to accept that blame. Please understand such aircraft are experimental and cannot be rushed. Overseas testing is due to begin this year with Howden R100 flying to Canada in June and Cardington R101 flying to India in September after insertion of an extra bay …”

  There was silence in the chamber until that sank in.

  “Extra bay!”

  “What extra bay! What's that for?”

  “What's he up to now?”

  “More expense!”

  “Good money after bad!”

  “What did he say? Speak up man!”

  Jeering broke out on all sides as Thomson attempted to justify his policies. It became deafening when he announced how much more money would be needed to continue the program.

  The weight reduction of Cardington R101 continued and as soon as the weather allowed, resumption of flight-testing Howden R100 began. But before that, all remedial work had to be completed. The major issue was the repair of the outer cover securing system. It was found that the wires holding the cover in place chafed on the traverse girders, causing them to break and the cover to become loose and flap around. This meant
the wiring had to be replaced and rerouted and the cover had to be laced up again. It was a massive task, but a vitally important one. On Norway’s birthday, January 17th, Lou called him in York, where he’d returned for a break.

  “Happy birthday, pal! You need to get your ass back down here pronto. We’re taking your big balloon for a ride tomorrow morning. You need to be here by 5:00 a.m. sharp.”

  “Oh, bugger! The weather’s bloody awful.”

  “It’ll be calmer than a monk on morphine in the morning, 'ol buddy—first time in weeks.”

  “All right. I’ll be there,” Norway said.

  “They’re leavin’ with you, or without you,” Lou told him.

  “Let Burney know—he wants to go.”

  By the time Norway got there, Howden R100 had been pulled out and moored at the mast. Norway had bought himself a newish car, a Singer Coupe. It was covered in ice, inside and out, and so were Norway and his passenger, a calculator from Howden.

  “Oh crap, Nev, look at you!” Lou exclaimed.

  “The weather’s been atrocious—ice and freezing fog all the way. We’ve been driving at twenty miles an hour all night,” Norway said.

  “Well, at least you’ve got four wheels now. You’re late, but don’t worry. They were two hours behind schedule walking her out.”

  They went to the tower and boarded the airship where Norway thawed out in the dining room with Burney over breakfast. The usual unfriendly R.A.W. officials were on board. A top speed requirement was stipulated in the contract and Cardington was anxious to find out if the airship could meet that requirement. Half an hour later, the captain gave the order to slip and they climbed above the fog into clear blue sky. Airspeed indicators had been set up and during the course of the day Booth pushed the ship to full speed. Scott appeared displeased. They were well over the speed requirement.

  “What’s the reading?” Burney asked.

  “Eighty-one miles an hour,” Norway called back.

  “Must be something wrong with the instrumentation,” an R.A.W. official said.

  Scott scowled. “Something strange is going on with this cover. Look at it!” The cover was fluttering. They peered at it though the windows.

  “I’m sure this isn’t anything serious,” Burney said.

  “She must be under a lot of stress, I’d say, looking at that,” Scott grumbled.

  “Nevil, get some riggers and inspect this ship from end to end,” Burney instructed.

  “There’s something seriously wrong with this airship,” Scott persisted.

  “Now steady on. Don’t get carried away!” Burney cautioned.

  Norway climbed about inside the airship with a gang of riggers, including Nervous Nick. They checked every inch of the structure and Norway determined that under full power no part of the airship became overstressed. Lou, McWade and Atherstone and two other R.A.W. officials joined them for the inspection and they, too, agreed. When they returned to the control car with their findings, Scott still wasn’t satisfied.

  “What we h-have is a har-harmonic con-condition caused by the eddying w-wind currents at high speed. It’s n-nothing serious,” Norway explained.

  “As far as I’m concerned, this airship is substandard,” Scott snapped.

  Burney had the answer. “This is easily solved. We’re ten miles an hour over specification requirements. By the way Scott, while we’re on the subject: what top speed did your ship reach?”

  “You have no business asking such questions,” Scott snarled.

  “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll instruct my team to put restrictors on the throttles so she’ll only be able to reach a maximum speed of seventy, in accordance with the contract requirements. At cruising speeds up to seventy, the cover is completely normal with no signs of fluttering.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Scott growled.

  “There’s nothing wrong with this airship and you’re trying to make out there is—and I wonder why!” Burney said. “We’ve met our obligations—which is more than I can say for you people at the Royal Airship Works!”

  The final acceptance trial for the Howden airship began on January 27th and lasted until January 29th, amounting to fifty-four hours of continuous flight. The designated Howden R100 flight crew was on board, including Jessup and Billy as riggers. Lou, since his promotion, served on both ships as third officer. Sky Hunt also flew in both on an ‘as needed’ basis.

  Howden R100 left the mast around 8:00 a.m. in mist, which turned to rain with winds over fifty-five mph. These were the worst conditions Lou had flown in to date, but he didn’t find the motion of the ship unduly worrying. She pitched slightly, but behaved obediently to her controls. They traveled to Oxford, unable to see the ground, and then toward Bristol and down to the southern tip of Cornwall.

  Some hours later, they flew over the Channel Isles toward the North Sea, where they spent the night cruising around in the dark. A four-hour watch-keeping routine was in place, and Lou got plenty of rest in a comfortable cabin. He slept for much of the night over the North Sea and found they were crossing the coast over Norfolk on their way to London when he emerged for breakfast. Over London, they peered down into thick, greasy fog. It cleared for a minute, revealing Tower Bridge and the Tower of London. They headed south again for Torbay in Devon. In the vicinity of Eddystone Lighthouse, turning trials were carried out on both port and starboard helm, using the light as a point of reference. They spent that night cruising the English Channel between England and France, traveling to Portland and then on to the Scilly Isles in the Atlantic.

  In the morning, Lou was in the control car as the ship traveled over Cornwall, the south-west peninsula of England. It was a beautiful sunny morning—a delightful contrast after so much lousy weather. Mist floated in the valleys like fluffy clouds in varying colors of white, gold and pink. Lou wished Charlotte could see it. Over the Bristol Channel, they traveled through more rain squalls. By afternoon, they were back in Cardington, moored to the mast. Lou and Norway were home at a reasonable time for dinner with Charlotte.

  Norway was able to stay the night this time and they spent the evening together. However, the happy mood Charlotte had exhibited in Switzerland had disappeared. She’d returned to her moody self once the ships had taken to the air again.

  Trials were concluded and Howden R100 officially accepted by the Air Ministry, whereupon the penultimate stage payment of forty thousand pounds was paid to Vickers. The final payment of ten thousand pounds would become due after a successful voyage to Canada. After more visual inspections in the air, the fluttering cover wasn’t mentioned again. Howden R100 was put into her shed for more remedial work and maintenance. There she would remain until May.

  54

  THE DINNER PARTY

  April 1, 1930.

  At the end of March, Princess Marthe returned to London and Buck drove her to her favorite suite at the Ritz, where more of Thomson’s special roses waited with a card of greeting.

  Beloved Marthe,

  I am sorry I could not meet you and that I’m unable to be with you this evening. Cabinet meetings till late, I’m afraid. Tomorrow I’ll send the car to pick you up at six-thirty to bring you here for dinner with our distinguished guests. I am longing to see you. Until tomorrow evening then,

  My deepest love, Kit.

  The following evening, Thomson, dressed in a black, woolen overcoat and matching trilby, waited in the shadows outside his apartment building in Ashley Gardens, close to Westminster Cathedral. Big Ben began striking seven. His breath came out in white puffs and he had heart palpitations. Bitterly cold, he rubbed his hands together. Presently, he spotted the headlights of his limousine and edged to the curb. The car drew up and Thomson opened the passenger door. Marthe, swathed in mink, eased her way out. He took her hand.

  “My dearest Marthe.”

  “So lovely to see you, Kit,” Marthe responded, her cheek pressed to his, her French accented whisper warming his frozen ear and arousing him. He kissed her de
licate hand.

  “Come, dear lady, let me take you to my new flat. Our dinner guests are waiting.”

  He led Marthe through a marble entrance hall to a small elevator and they traveled up to the flat. Daisy, the new parlor maid, opened the door. The princess swept into the reception room, pausing for Daisy to remove her furs. Underneath, Marthe wore a pale blue, narrow-waisted, chiffon dress, which almost reached her silver, open-toed shoes. Deep red nail polish perfectly matched her lipstick. Around her neck, she wore a necklace of diamonds, which complemented her diamond earrings. Her shining, dark hair was gathered up tight to the head and crowned by a small diamond tiara.

  “You are truly magnificent, darling!” Thomson said, kissing her hand again. He turned to Daisy. “We’ll go in now.”

  Daisy obediently pushed open the double doors, revealing the spacious, bright yellow and white accented sitting room. MacDonald and his companion sat opposite each other on couches positioned each side of a statuary marble fireplace, where a log fire blazed in the hearth. Between them was a coffee table laden with half-finished cocktails. A huge guilt mirror hung above the mantel. Thomson studied Marthe as she briefly gazed at her own reflection as she approached MacDonald, who sprung to his feet. Lady Wilson remained seated.

  “Thank goodness you’re here at last!” MacDonald exclaimed. “Thomson’s been a bundle of nerves—and I can’t say as I blame him! You look positively stunning.” MacDonald raised her hand to his lips.