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

by David Dennington

  Lou watched Thomson reach for a bottle of Macallan.

  Nothing but the best. Must be a special occasion.

  Thomson began pouring. “And you, Richmond and Remington, what’ll it be?”

  They asked for the same to keep it simple. Thomson poured three more out and handed them out. He took his own and held it up.

  “Your very good health, gentlemen.”

  “Yes, sir, good health,” they all said.

  Lou took a sip.

  Very nice—as good as Granddad’s—the man from Moray!

  Thomson sat down. “I didn’t get you down here to discuss the pros and cons of Cardington R101. All I want to know is this: Are you fellows comfortable and confident we can make this voyage without undue risk? I want the unvarnished truth. I thought it only right and proper you should be given the opportunity to let your feelings be known. I’ve been hearing all sorts of scuttlebutt and I want to get it all cleared up and out in the open.” Thomson looked from Richmond to Scott. “After all, you, Richmond, have been responsible for its design and you, Scott, are in charge of flying operations …”

  Scott and Richmond sat looking at Thomson with stony faces. Not sure what to make of it all. They’d had the jitters on the way down. Lou sat there astonished. Surely Thomson wasn’t going to let them call it off? He’d soon get his answer.

  Thomson went on. “I want you to both reassure me that this airship is capable of flying to India and back. I want to know you both have full confidence. And you, Remington, I brought you here as a highly experienced airshipman—I thought it worth hearing what you had to say about it all as you are, in way, an unbiased outsider—a trusted one, I might add.”

  Richmond put his drink down and was about to speak, but Thomson continued.

  “We must all understand what’s at stake: the country’s honor. Cardington R01 has become something of a symbol of the British Empire itself. Naturally, I want this voyage to be a rip-roaring success. It’s absolutely imperative. The world is watching. Also, I should mention that the rewards will be huge for everybody. …What were you going to say Richmond?

  Richmond sat up primly. “I was going to say that I believe the airship is now in tip-top condition … or, well almost. We’ve had our problems, now with the extra bay and all the padding …” Thomson waved his hand. He didn’t want to hear about all that. “I think this journey can be accomplished quite safely, sir,” he said.

  “So you have absolute confidence?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  Thomson turned his gaze to Scott. “What about you, Scott? Do you feel the same way? Please understand, I’m not trying to put you chaps on the spot.”

  Scott boosted himself with another slug, draining his glass. “I do sir, yes. I see no reason to feel anything but confident now. We just ran her around the countryside for sixteen hours and she performed magnificently.”

  “What about the rest of Irwin’s tests? Do you feel we’re running any risks here? You know we’re talking about people’s lives and I feel very much responsible?”

  “Oh, I think she got through a lot of tests last year and we took care of all the issues. I don’t think we’ve got anything to worry about, not really, sir,” Scott said. “And look at it this way: the Howden ship made it to Montreal and back without too much fuss in their bare-bones machine. I’m sure we can do the India run without a problem in R101.”

  That made Lou smile. He was unimpressed with this whole performance. Did Thomson think he was going to reinforce all their statements? Thomson got up and refilled Scott’s glass and handed it to him.

  “Now, what about you, Commander? I value your opinion.”

  “My feeling is this …” Lou paused for some moments, moistening and licking his lips. “You’re right, I am an outsider. And I see things from a much different perspective.”

  Their eyes were riveted on him.

  “I don’t share your urgency to get this voyage accomplished. I see the risks as being too great—for your long-term goal. I’d urge you to slow down and carry out the full schedule of tests Captain Irwin has proposed. With so much riding on this voyage, I think you have far more to lose than to gain. You’re maximizing the risk of failure by not doing them. You’re putting all your chips on black, Lord Thomson.”

  Richmond and Scott were stunned and extremely irritated. Thomson showed no emotion, keeping his eyes in a fixed stare at Lou.

  “I see… That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose,” he said. “Now, here I have you disagreeing with my two most senior men.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, you asked me and I gave you the ‘unvarnished truth’ the way I see it.” Thomson turned away to Richmond. “Can I get you another, Richmond?”

  “Oh, no, sir, I don’t usually imbibe during the day, thank you.”

  Thomson stood up; their cue to leave. “Well gentlemen, this has been useful. I’ll think on what you’ve said.” He turned to Lou. “Commander, you are under no obligation to make this journey, you know. If you’re uncomfortable …”

  “Sir, I’m committed to the ship, to the crew and to our captain.”

  Thomson put his hand on Lou’s shoulder. “Admirable, sir! Admirable! First class attitude, if I may say so.”

  They left Thomson’s office and made the silent journey back to Cardington in just over an hour. Thomson sat back down in his easy chair and contemplated the situation. The young commander might be right. His two yes-men had said what he wanted to hear. He derived no comfort from their words. Lou’s only worried him further.

  … But he’s young.

  83

  CELEBRATION & FAREWELL AT THE KINGS ARMS

  Friday October 3, 1930.

  A smoky haze hung over the excited crowd of well-wishers in The Kings Arms opposite the green, on Church Lane. The place was full of airship construction workers and crewmen with their families and girlfriends. Their frenzied chatter over the honky-tonk was deafening to any sober person, of which there were few. Lou entered around 9 o’clock and fought his way to the bar where Potter, Billy, Cameron, Binks, Disley, Church and Irene were tightly gathered. Among the crowd, Lou noticed a lot of faces he’d never seen before.

  Probably press and spectators.

  He was surprised to see the piano player was George Hunter from the Daily Express. Hunter gave him a wink. He was one hell of a pianist, presently knocking out “Putting on the Ritz.” Church and Irene looked especially happy, with goofy grins on their faces.

  “What are you two looking so pleased about?” Lou shouted.

  Irene shyly buried her head in Church’s shoulder and then held her left hand up in the air displaying a tiny diamond ring.

  “Irene and me are getting married as soon as I get back!” Church proclaimed.

  The room erupted into cheers and applause. “This calls for a drink,” Lou said. He ordered another round and a bottle of champagne. The barman poured the champagne and they raised their glasses.

  “You’re a lucky man!” Cameron shouted. He looked down in the dumps. The incident with Rosie and Jessup on the ship had been the last straw. His marriage was over.

  “Here’s to you both,” Lou said.

  Three girls in the bar had their eyes on Lou, including the busty blonde from the Cardington House reception desk. They knew he was a free agent and on the market, or hoped he was. He smiled pleasantly at them, but kept his distance. Then he noticed Mrs. Hinchliffe loitering next to Hunter at the piano. She glanced over at him and he suspected she wanted to talk. He wasn’t in the mood. Life was much too complicated as it was.

  Hunter broke into “I’m Sittin’ On Top of the World” and everybody sang at the top of their lungs—everybody except Lou and Cameron. Lou glanced at the door and imagined Charlotte walking in—just like that—kissing him on the lips and telling him how much she loved him, and asking him not to go, and he would say, ‘Okay honey, I’ll quit right now.’ Even Colmore would understand …but Charlotte didn’t walk in.

  After hal
f an hour of trying his best to look happy, Lou decided he needed some air. He walked out the door as Hunter was transitioning seamlessly into “Blue Skies.” On his way through the smoky haze, he nodded politely to the three girls who gave him yearning glances. He left the pub and walked across the cobblestone road onto the damp, grassy field toward the fairground.

  The sound of the out-of-tune honky-tonk drifted through the mist behind him with sounds of laughter, singing and chinking glasses. Soon, the carousel drowned out the pub sounds, reminding him of Freddie and the clown’s head. He stood for a few minutes staring at the ominous shape riding at the tower bathed in searchlights. He heard rustling footsteps behind him in the grass and then a woman’s voice.

  “Do you think she’s beautiful?”

  Lou turned around. Mrs. Hinchliffe was beautiful. She had long, blond hair and deep blue eyes. She reminded him of Julia. There was something about her face he could only describe as spiritual. She was around his own age and as tall as Charlotte.

  “No, I wouldn’t call that beautiful,” he said.

  “My husband flew away, too.”

  She paused and stared sadly into the night sky, as if remembering the last time she’d seen him. “Every day since then I’ve wished I’d stopped him.” She closed her eyes, reliving the awful pain. “Oh, how I’ve wished it!” she said.

  Lou felt her regret. “Do you really think you could have?”

  “That’s a good question.” She stopped to consider. “I think so.” She paused again. “But I didn’t even try.” Lou sensed her self-blame. “He was so confident and to me, he was invincible.”

  “Now you warn others?”

  She glanced down at his hand.

  “Yes. I see you’re not wearing a wedding ring. Aren’t you married?” she asked.

  He automatically raised his hand and looked at his ring finger. It came as a shock to see his ring missing. “Technically, I suppose I am.”

  “Then give this up for her sake.”

  “I would, but it’s too late.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I met you and your husband just before he left,” Lou said.

  “Yes, I remember you. We were all right here in this pub.”

  “It must be tough for you to set foot in the place,” Lou said.

  “He wants the Airship Program stopped,” she said.

  “Your husband, you mean?”

  “You must think I’m crazy?”

  “I’m not sure what to think.”

  “Take it from me. I’m not crazy,” she said.

  God, what grief does to people!

  “Mrs. Hinchliffe, I must go. I have a busy day ahead.”

  “I suppose I’m wasting my time?”

  “I don’t think you’ve a snowball’s chance in hell of stopping that thing taking off tomorrow.”

  She took his hand to shake it and then clasped it with the other.

  “I’ll be here to see you all leave,” she said, looking into his eyes.

  “Goodbye, Mrs. Hinchliffe.”

  Lou sensed, like him, she was a lost and lonely soul. He put his arms around her and they hugged. She put her lips to his.

  “Are you going back to the pub?” she asked.

  “No, I think I’ll call it a day.

  She kissed him again, her lips soft and wet.

  “Come with me,” she said, her voice an urgent whisper.

  “You want to save me from all this, huh?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Perhaps we’ll meet again, Mrs. Hinchliffe,” he said.

  “Yes, I hope so. Good luck, and may God be with you … And next time we meet, please call me Millie.”

  “So, you’re confident I’ll make it back?” Lou asked, with an amused grin.

  “I don't know, but I pray you do, Commander,” she said.

  Lou nodded. “Okay, Millie.”

  He left her and walked across the field toward the fairground. The music and laughter grew louder, the lights more dazzling. Hundreds were milling around, enjoying the fun of the fair.

  Minutes later, Lou reached the gypsy’s tent. The old woman was standing outside. “I’ve bin waitin’ for you, my lucky lad.”

  “To tell me my fortune, right?”

  “Cross me palm with silver and I might give yer something.”

  He followed her into the tent, breathing in the familiar, musty smell of damp hay. Being dark this time, the place seemed more ominous. Flickering candles lent a sinister atmosphere. He laid a silver half-a-crown on the table. She stuffed it in her apron and gazed at him intently.

  “I see you’ve used up more lives.” She chuckled wickedly. “You might have one left. I ain’t sure.”

  Lou’s mind flashed to Howden R100’s two mishaps over the St. Lawrence. His brush with the Klan. Did that count? And then Cameron nearly put them all in the drink on the way home. That was close. The old crone’s crackly voice brought him back.

  “She left yer, didn’t she? The woman you brought to me last year. Your wife, wasn’t it? Longing for a baby she was. I don’t see ’er around you anymore. She had things she could not share. There was much troubling her—another victim of war—she was a very brave girl, that one. It all just got too much for ’er.”

  Lou had no idea what the woman was babbling about and though it sounded curious, he didn’t answer. He really didn’t want to know.

  Yes, and probably you had a lot to do with it, dammit!

  “But I do see another woman who patiently waits. I see her in your family.” Her eyes opened wide as if looking at a portrait held up to her. “Another beautiful woman! My, oh my, you do attract the lovelies, doncha!”

  Lou knew exactly who she was talking about. Still, he kept his mouth shut.

  “You’re wonderin’ about this journey. Well, you will go, sunshine. And you deserve what you get! But just know this: The impatient one you all follow blindly is ruled by fire. He's surrounded by it. Always has been. So beware! Those who don’t heed my advice, do so at their peril. Curses shall be 'eaped upon 'em!”

  Lou stared into the gypsy’s penetrating, watery eyes. In the flickering supernatural light, they appeared luminous green, flecked with red. He felt energy radiating from that old body into his like an electrical current. He became paralyzed, sensing her strange and powerful force, not sure if she was good or evil, or neither.

  “Now, there’s one who seeks to do you harm,” she went on.

  Lou realized she must be talking about Jessup, but then she looked away into a dark corner and dismissed that image with a flick of her bony fingers and a sneer.

  “A message of ill and one of truth—these two shall be conveyed. At the end of the day, that’s what this saga’s about.” Suddenly, her head slumped with her eyes closed. She was spent. She sat motionless for a few moments and then opened her eyes as though from a deep sleep. She seemed surprised. “Oh, you’re still ’ere. Did you get what you wanted?”

  Lou smiled. “Yes and no. You talk in riddles, lady.”

  “Have an interesting trip—might be good for yer soul,” she said, getting to her feet with a sly grin.

  At 10 o’clock, Thomson and MacDonald emerged from MacDonald’s study on the second floor at No.10, having gone over the agenda for the Imperial Conference of Dominion Prime Ministers, scheduled to begin later that month. They stood on the wide landing overlooking the grand staircase. MacDonald put his hand on Thomson’s arm, his eyes intense.

  “Forgo this trip. I need your wise council for this conference. Do this for me, CB.”

  “Are you ordering me not to go, sir?”

  “No, I’m asking you as my dearest friend.”

  They held each other’s forearms and Thomson looked into the Prime Minister’s face. “How can I not go? I’m committed. And besides, the troops are expecting me. I need to rally them.” Thomson moved to the top of the stairs. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back for the conference—have I ever let you down, Ramsay?”

  MacDonald’s ey
es, moist earlier, now glistened. Thomson saw this before he started down the stairs. When he got to the bottom, he stared up at MacDonald and waved. Thomson crossed the black and white checkered floor, stopping at the door.

  “Farewell, my good friend,” MacDonald called down.

  Thomson’s voice echoed up the stairway. “Don’t look so glum, my dear chap. Don’t you remember? Our fate is already written.”

  MacDonald stood hunched like a man watching his brother going off to war. He wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. “Yes, I do,” he whispered. “Yes, I do.”

  “Ramsay, if the worst should happen, it would soon be over.”

  As Thomson left, the door slammed behind him, the sound echoing around the great hall like thunder.

  Thomson left Downing Street and crossed Whitehall to Gwydyr House. He passed the nightwatchman, giving him a curt nod. His office was in darkness. He switched on the picture light over the huge oil painting of the Taj Mahal and sat down, staring at the airship he’d had superimposed upon it by Winston Churchill. He hoped for some sort of divine affirmation. But he got none. He got up and went to the window and peered out over the river, faintly glimmering under the dim street lamps. The bitter taste and the feeling he had was something akin to buyer’s remorse. Brancker’s words continued their stinging assault:

  I will go CB—and I’ll tell you why. I encouraged people to fly in this airship—people like O’Neill and Palstra—believing it’d be built and tested properly. I believed all your rhetoric about ‘safety first.’ I didn’t think you’d use this airship for your own personal aggrandizement, for your own personal agenda, with everything set to meet your own personal schedule. People like O’Neill put their faith in me and my word. I will not abandon them now.

  Then he heard the young American’s voice like an echo, depressing him further.

  You’re putting all your chips on black, Lord Thomson… You’re putting all your chips on black…

  Then to cap it all, Wallis’s words from six years ago gave him a jolt.

  You’re planning to build airships by committee?