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

by David Dennington

  “Three? Excellent! Any problems?”

  “Everything’s fine at the moment, sir.”

  Colmore stood motionless, his face frozen, listening to the howling wind. Lou guessed Scott must’ve brought him down to make him feel at ease, but it was having the opposite effect. Colmore’s eyes darted around the perimeter windows. The craggy cliffs on Ireland’s northwest coast were rapidly disappearing behind them. Ahead, an endless, angry, grey sea.

  Colmore peered up at the hull above them. Its dull silver cover reflected the sun intermittently as they ran through the underside of swirling black cloud. He stared down at the engines suspended in space behind them.

  “You don’t want to visit the engine cars, eh Reggie?” Scott said, winking at Lou.

  Colmore ignored Scott’s silly joke. “Let’s go back upstairs,” he mumbled.

  “Okay, Reggie. Keep up the good work, Commander. Let me know if anything needs my attention. I’ve done all this before, you know!”

  “I most certainly will, sir.”

  The two men began climbing the stairs. “You need a strong Bloody Mary, Reggie. Come, it’ll settle your stomach,” Scott said, as they went.

  Lou and Cameron exchanged glances.

  “I could do with one of them myself,” Lou said.

  The two coxswains remained silent.

  An hour later, Norway appeared, with mugs of tea for Lou and the coxswains. “Here. I mustn’t stay long or I’ll be in trouble with ol’ Captain Bligh up there,” he said, putting the tea tray down.

  “I was just thinking about those two people in the plane who attempted this flight—you know Hinchliffe and the chick—whatsaname—the heiress?” Lou said.

  “Elsie Mackay. She was a corker!”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “I must admit, I used to have those grand notions of trying it myself, once,” Norway said.

  “We'd have been reading your obituary, too, pal.”

  Norway studied the ocean again. “Yes, from here—it looks like sheer madness.”

  “I guess there were a lot of bucks riding on it?”

  “Enough to retire on, I reckon.”

  “A lot of people tried it,” Lou said, after a swallow of tea.

  “Many died in the attempt.”

  “His wife’s still campaigning to stop the airship program with messages from the grave.”

  “She’s often in the newspapers and on speaking tours. She’s got no chance. After this voyage and the India trip—airships will be part of everyday life,” Norway said confidently.

  Lou finished his tea.

  Norway squeezed past Giblett on the stairs.

  “It’s bad luck to pass on the stairs,” Giblett said.

  “Don’t be s-superstitious, Mr. G-Giblett. All will be w-well.”

  “Don’t listen to him; he’s just the design engineer,” Lou said.

  “I’m a man of science, too, and I am superstitious,” Giblett answered.

  “Do you have good news?” Lou asked.

  “A high pressure area has developed in the Atlantic to the south. We need to head in that direction to get another favoring wind. I’ll ask Johnny to work out the new heading.”

  “Thank you. I’ll brief the captain when he comes on watch,” Lou said.

  The rest of Lou’s spell on duty was uneventful. After giving Booth the information, he went to the dining room for tea and sandwiches. He sat talking with Wann, Colmore and Scott. Alcohol had calmed Colmore down to some extent. They didn’t mention R38, not wishing to upset him again.

  After tea, Lou went to lie down. The crewmen below were playing the gramophone, louder this time. Strains of “Can’t Help Loving That Man O’ Mine” came up through the floor. Lou gazed at Charlotte’s photo—the blues seemed fitting. He listened, remembering the songs she liked to play. She hadn’t played for ages; Freddie’s death had put a stop to the parties. As sad as Freddie’s death was, the grief had to end. Fun and laughter must be brought back into their house. Children would bring joy back into her life. Yes, children were the answer. The song ended and Al Jolson sang “Blue Skies” in his upbeat vamping style. Lou spoke out loud, not caring if anyone heard him. “That’s right, Mr. Jolson. You sing it! It’s gonna be blue skies from now on, ol’ buddy.”

  During the next two days of the crossing, Lou had an epiphany. His spirits rose and he became euphoric. This voyage had given him time to reflect in solitude. Whenever he came to rest, or attempt to read the book Charlotte had given him, he had similar thoughts.

  How could I have been so thoughtless?

  Everything became crystal clear. He’d selfishly put his career above all else—while she’d met his every need. He’d failed her miserably! He knew what he must do on his return. They’d begin the adoption process, but beforehand, he’d get checked out. He’d stubbornly refused before, hoping for a miracle. He dreaded being found to be less than a man.

  Lou’s love for airships returned during the crossing and this flight proved airship travel could be safe. It’d certainly go down as a landmark flight. The ship had behaved magnificently with only a small repair necessary to one engine. Lou was glad he’d stuck to his guns, sure Charlotte would come around, especially after they’d made a few intercontinental flights. Perhaps, one day he’d be able to take her to America by airship—a pleasant three-day voyage!

  On Wednesday morning Colmore invited Lou to join him on the promenade deck. They sat at one of the wicker tables in comfortable easy chairs, encompassed by the sea. Colmore appeared fairly relaxed, well-scrubbed and shaved, his graying hair slicked down and shiny; he was well-dressed as always—sports jacket, collar and tie. He ordered tea. Lou ordered coffee.

  “I’m going to confide in you, Lou. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all, sir.”

  They were interrupted by people gathering at the windows, watching a whale ploughing through the waves, water spouting from its blowhole. Lou and Colmore got up and joined them for a few minutes to enjoy the awesome sight. The massive creature disappeared and they returned to their seats. Pierre set down a tray of tea, coffee and biscuits.

  “I wasn’t always like this, you know. Oh, always nervous about flying, but not this bad. I got on with it—strange thing for the Director of Airship Development to admit, eh.”

  “We can only admire your courage, then, sir.”

  “It’s ridiculous. I get so annoyed with myself,” Colmore said, sipping his tea.

  “Regardless, many think you’re the best man for the job.”

  Colmore sighed. “I hope so. My fear got worse after Captain Hinchliffe’s wife came to Cardington with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle last year.”

  “What happened?”

  Lou picked up his coffee and Colmore offered him a biscuit.

  “She claimed she’d had messages from her husband—the pilot lost with Elsie Mackay—right out here, somewhere.” Colmore waved his hand vaguely at the foreboding sea.

  “What did she say?”

  “The Airship Program was too dangerous and would end in horrible disaster.”

  “I expect she was upset after losing her husband, sir.”

  “She and Doyle showed up after the briefing—you know when Lord Thomson came up after he got back in office. They were in the garden when Thomson gave his speech.”

  “Yes, I remember. I couldn’t figure out what was happening. We couldn’t hear—someone switched off the mic. It looked like she was making some sort of protest,” Lou said.

  “She asked a lot of embarrassing questions.”

  “Lord Thomson looked irritated,” Lou said.

  “It was astonishing how much she knew about the Airship Program—top secret technical stuff. Lou, it was unnerving!”

  “I bet.”

  “But you see, it made the woman credible.”

  “But it’s a bit weird, sir. Conan Doyle has a reputation for being an eccentric—what with the fairies and all that stuff.”

  “Yes,
but how the hell did she know so much?”

  “People talk. They find out things. I shouldn’t worry about any of it, sir.”

  “She has a lot of powerful people on her side, you know.”

  “Well, there you are. They probably fed her the information. Poor woman was being used. It’s all politics.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Colmore said, his smile half-hearted.

  “Sir, may I be blunt?”

  “Please do, dear boy.”

  “If you’re not sure the ship’s ready, regardless of how well Howden R100 does, you must put your foot down, be strong and stand up for what you believe. Postpone the voyage to India!”

  Colmore looked frightened by the prospect. He scratched his chin and gazed at the surrounding ocean. “We’ll have to see, but I do value your council, Lou. You know that.”

  Lou drew a deep breath. “I’ve cheated death a few times. I guess I was spared for a reason—but when our time’s up, that’s it. We meet our Maker—but I think we must do all we can to prevent that day coming prematurely!”

  “You’re lucky. You’re bloody fearless!”

  “I wish that were true, sir.”

  “Somehow, you always manage to make me feel better, Lou,” Colmore said, pausing to watch a rusty freighter heading in the opposite direction. “And you give me much to ponder.”

  “You started telling me about Lord Thomson and his experience with Lord Kitchener.”

  “Oh yes, I did.”

  “I’d love to hear that story.”

  Colmore smiled fully for the first time and Lou listened in fascination to the tale of Thomson’s ruthless obedience to Kitchener’s orders during the Boer War, as well as his recent threats. By the end of the story, Colmore was back in the doldrums, and Lou understood why.

  It was important for the officer on watch to be a skilled navigator and, during the crossing, Meager and Johnston gave Lou instruction. All he had learned in books over this past two years, he put into practice. He accompanied both men when they took sun sightings with the sextant on the roof. They left him to calculate their latitude using these observations. Sometimes, if the stars were visible, they showed him how to fix their position by taking astronomical sightings. They also taught him to use the Pole Star to ascertain their latitude.

  Lou was shown how to make drift, wind speed and directional calculations using targets dropped on the water from the control car. During the day, they used ‘dust bombs,’ small boxes filled with aluminum dust, which exploded when they hit the sea, leaving a perfect sighting target. At night, they dropped calcium flares, which burst into flame on contact with the water.

  The aspect of navigation Lou found most interesting was the use of ships at sea. During the crossing, Lou sent a signal to the Montclare, which sent their position and the airship’s bearing back to the airship. Moments later, the same information was received from the Caledonian. By getting two bearings at almost the same time, they determined the ‘cut’ and hence their own exact position. At that time, they were at fifty-three degrees north—twenty-one degrees, zero minutes west. Lou believed he’d be a competent navigator by the end of this voyage, having been instructed by the best.

  Norway out-did himself on Wednesday afternoon. Meager was on watch and the ship was now positioned seven hundred miles east of Belle Isle, where the St. Lawrence enters the Atlantic, about a thousand miles south of Greenland. After visiting the engine cars with Lou, Norway decided to go up to the roof. Lou followed him. Norway opened the bow hatch and popped his head out. The rushing, damp wind hit them full force. They were making fifty knots and Norway, in his Harris Tweed jacket and green woolen polo-necked sweater, clambered onto the roof and sat down. Lou stuck his head out.

  “Icebergs!” Norway shouted, pointing into the distance.

  “Some of them are huge,” Lou said, looking southwards. “I guess the Titanic must have hit one somewhere south of here.”

  “Over there in iceberg alley. Four hundred miles off Newfoundland,” Norway said. They both stared at the inhospitable landscape. Norway began crawling away.

  “Hey, where the hell d’you think you’re going?” Lou yelled after him.

  “I’m going to see if I can make it to the stern!”

  “What are you, crazy? Stop! It’s too dangerous.”

  Lou stood on the top rung of the cat ladder and watched Norway inch away on his belly along the narrow catwalk up the incline, holding the steel cable. After Norway had gone about a hundred feet, Lou was astonished to see Nervous Nick heading toward them from the other direction. He wasn’t crawling, but walking upright with his hands in his pockets, leaning into the wind. His lips were pursed—he was whistling!

  Now what?

  When Nervous Nick reached Norway, Norway looked up, startled at first. Then he turned sideways, making himself as small as possible. Nervous Nick stepped over Norway without breaking stride and on toward Lou. He grinned. “Afternoon, sir,” he said on reaching him.

  “Out for a stroll?” Lou asked.

  “Just getting a little air, sir, are you going?”

  “Not today,” Lou said, climbing down the ladder to allow him to get down. “You’ve progressed a bit since we first met, Nick.”

  “Oh yes, sir—thanks to you. I love this job!”

  “I take it everything looks good on the roof?”

  “No serious damage, sir, but I think those intakes might be leaking.”

  Lou made a mental note to pass that on to Meager and moved on to make an inspection of the structure and gasbags. He’d check on Nevil later. Amidships, he ran into Wann.

  “Good afternoon, Commander. Working on anything special?” Wann asked.

  “Just a routine inspection.”

  “Then I’ll join you. I could use the exercise. It’s damned boring around here. No crises.”

  “I don’t think we need another crisis, do we?”

  “I apologize—stupid joke. Boring is always best.”

  They progressed along the catwalks, peering up at the helically wound girders. “Pretty damned impressive,” Wann said.

  “Barnes Wallis,” Lou said.

  Wann nodded approval. “I’m surprised he’s not on board.”

  “Vickers wouldn’t allow it.”

  “Very wise of them.”

  They reached the stern and found one of the riggers making repairs to a small chafe in the cover on one of the fins. They watched him for a few minutes. After complimenting him on his work, they moved on.

  “They’re a conscientious lot, this crew,” Wann said. He stopped and turned, holding onto the rail. “How are you, Lou? Have you got over that bloody catastrophe?”

  “I guess, but it took a while,” Lou replied.

  “Some of us were spared. God knows why. I never got over the guilt of that.”

  “I saw the control car lying in the water. I didn’t think anyone could’ve survived.”

  “They say everything happens for a reason.”

  “There’s the rub,” Lou said.

  “Do you know your purpose?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. You’re lucky. I heard your testimony in court was excellent,” Wann said.

  “Oh, I don’t know—”

  “You saved the commodore’s reputation.”

  “I just told it the way I saw it.”

  “I’m not sure he deserved it. You were very gracious.” Wann stared up into the ship’s structure. “We continue to believe in these damned things—or pretend to.”

  “I think we’re getting them sorted out,” Lou replied. He suddenly remembered Norway. “Oh hell! I’d better go up and look for Norway. He went on the roof. I’d better make sure he hasn’t been blown away.”

  “Yes, you better had,” Wann said. “The R.A.W. would never get over the loss.”

  Lou made his way to the stern hatch cat ladder, climbed up and opened the hatch. He was disturbed by what he saw. Norway stood fifty feet away, arms outstretched, f
acing the horizon, hair blowing riotously around his head. He reminded Lou of the Christ the Redeemer statue under construction in Rio de Janeiro.

  The master of all he surveys! Dumb S.O.B!

  “Nevil! What the hell are you doing? Get back down here. Right now!”

  Norway turned around slowly, as though coming out of a trance.

  “Ah, Lou.”

  Norway walked carefully toward Lou at the hatchway.

  “Exhilarating!” he shouted.

  “Life’s dangerous enough without you pulling a silly stunt like that.”

  “It felt so good and I wanted to prove I could do it,” Norway said.

  “If you fall off, there’ll be a lot of disappointed readers out there.”

  “I can just see the headlines. ‘Hated airship designer mysteriously disappears over Atlantic. Royal Airship Works staff helping with enquiries.’”

  “Very funny,” Lou said.

  Norway looked at his watch. “Come on, Lou, it’s time to pump petrol.”

  “It's time you pumped the toilets out, too—they’re getting pretty smelly, pal.”

  Later that day, Lou made an entry in the diary Charlotte had given him:

  Wednesday July 30th 1930.

  Saw icebergs this afternoon. Some of them collapsing. Awesome sight. All I could think about was the Titanic. I thought about that beautiful ship on the bottom, not far away. And all those poor, wretched souls! Sad to think about. Was it an iceberg that killed them, or someone’s stupid pride?

  64

  NEWFOUNDLAND

  Wednesday July 30, 1930.

  I see a light!” Everyone rushed to the windows at the front of the control car.“Yes, there it is.”

  It was 9:45 p.m. Wednesday evening—Meager’s watch. Lou.

  Johnson, Booth and Wann had gone down to join him. Johnston spotted it first. On the port bow, they saw a flashing light—the lighthouse on Cape Bauld on the northern tip of the island of Newfoundland.

  “The crossing from Ireland to Newfoundland has taken ...” Johnston hesitated carefully reading his watch. “Thirty-seven hours and forty minutes or ...” He looked out into the darkness. “Forty-six hours and twenty-eight minutes from Cardington.”