The Ghost of Captain Hinchliffe

by David Dennington

  Hinchliffe was on board, taking a close interest in matters concerning airworthiness. He was in the control car when Brancker and Colmore came down for a look round during the flight. Hinchliffe listened to their conversation. His fears were confirmed. Brancker was effusive at first. Colmore, now Director of Airship Development, didn't say much at all. He looked worried. Hinchliffe figured Colmore knew a lot more than he was letting on.

  “This is magnificent!” Brancker ran his hands over the hardwood and his eyes over the instrumentation. “The workmanship and finish are extraordinary.” After a few minutes, Brancker, himself an experienced pilot, couldn’t resist. “May I?” he asked.

  “Of course you can, sir,” Irwin responded. The coxswains left the control car and Lou Remington attended the elevators. Brancker took the rudder and turned the wheel gently around from port to starboard. The massive bulk moved like a great sea galleon of old under canvas.

  “I say, she seems awfully responsive. What do you say, Irwin?”

  “She’s responsive to the helm all right, but she’s underpowered and grossly overweight,” Irwin answered.

  “You mean seriously overweight?” Brancker asked.

  “Fully loaded, this ship wouldn’t get off the ground, sir.”

  “Hell, you don’t say!” Brancker exploded. “He’s all set to go charging off to India at Christmas!”

  “That would be suicide. This ship’s quite unserviceable at the moment, sir,” Irwin replied.

  Hinchliffe saw Colmore gritting his teeth.

  Later, Hinchliffe was given more reason to be worried. They were nearing Cardington. In the control car, with Atherstone, the first officer and Remington at his side, Irwin was becoming concerned.

  “She’s getting heavy and losing gas. It’s happening so rapidly,” Irwin said.

  “Do you want to dump ballast yet, sir?” Remington asked.

  “Yes. Dump five tons from Frame two and five tons from Frame eight.”

  “Right you are, sir,” Atherstone said, grabbing the ballast release valves.

  “I’m going to drive her hard and keep her nose up. Increase all engines to eight hundred.”

  “All engines to eight hundred, sir,” Remington repeated, as he sent the message to all cars. They heard engine notes increase.

  “How are we off for fuel?” Irwin asked.

  “We got plenty. Enough for eighteen hours,” Atherstone replied.

  “Now dump water ballast on Frames 3 and 6,” Irwin ordered.

  “Dumping ballast on 3 and 6, Captain. We’re down to five tons of water ballast,” Atherstone said.

  “Save that. We'll need it at the tower. Damn! She’s sinking like a rock. Dump five tons of fuel from Frame 5.”

  “Did you say fuel, sir?” Lou asked.

  “Affirmative. Start dumping fuel.”

  Atherstone carried out the order. From the control car, they watched diesel fuel cascade over the fields.

  “That'll be good for the animals and crops,” Atherstone said with a grimace.

  “Can’t be helped,” Irwin muttered

  Finally, they showed up near Cardington Tower, and the fair that came to the village every year at this time. After four attempts, the majestic gleaming ship passed over the fairground at about 200 feet, stunning the wildly screaming girls and boys on the Ferris wheel.

  Another witness to this dangerous, terrifying event was George Hunter. He'd got permission to stand at the tower to see the docking operation up close. He'd certainly have a story to tell after this. Within a few hundred feet of the tower, cables were dropped for pick up. These cables were pulled in by an electric winch, which would then draw the airship up to the tower to be locked to the nose cone.

  Freddie Marsh was one of the new boys in the ground crew. The dream of all these young men was that someday they'd get a job on the ship as a rigger or an engineer. As the ship come over the field, Freddie looked up and saw the open hatch at the front. His friend Sam Church was holding the cable, ready to throw it down. Freddie waved and grinned up at him. Church dropped the cable and Freddie shouted to another friend in the ground crew. “I'm gonna be first on that line!” At that, he took off at a sprint to gather up the line. Above him, Church was yelling at him to leave the line alone.

  “Freddie, no!” Church yelled. “It's live!”

  It would be alive with static electricity and would pack a severe punch if someone touched it without using rubber mats. It wasn't Freddie's job to work with the lines and he hadn't been instructed on that procedure. As he ran, a dozen other experienced ground crewmen ran after him, to stop him.

  “Don't touch that line, son!” they hollered.

  “Freddie, don't!”

  The droning engines overhead, together with the carousel music of the fair, drowned out their warnings. As Freddie ran, he looked behind him and saw them running like madmen behind him. Thinking it was all a lark, he ran even harder. It was great fun! The boy couldn't have wished for a better birthday.

  As soon as he grabbed the line, Freddie was hit by a huge burst of static electricity. He curled, clutching his chest and fell backwards, bashing the back of his head on the ground. That amount of electricity wasn't enough to kill most people, but Freddie had a weak heart. He certainly wouldn't have been allowed on that field if those in authority had known. Times were hard and Freddie's family needed every penny they could earn to survive. No one saw this coming, particularly his cousin, Joe Binks, who witnessed the whole thing from his engine car. The boy wasn't supposed to be rushing about like that or touching those lines.

  Hinchliffe was present in the control car, where things were also chaotic. The ship was becoming dangerously heavy and Captain Irwin had to get rid of more excess weight, fast. Irwin shouted across to Remington. “She's sinking fast! Dump the last five tons of ballast at Frame No 7 and five tons of fuel from Frame 8!”

  Hinchliffe saw the American hesitate, questioning the order. He was obviously thinking about poor, Freddie lying on the ground under the ship.

  “Do it, right now!” Irwin yelled.

  Remington grabbed the ballast and fuel discharge levers and let everything go. Hinchliffe moved from the control car down to Freddie's side. The boy lay there, his eyes open, while water and stinking diesel fuel gushed over his young face. Hinchliffe saw he was dead. His spirit was stirring. He looked up at Hinchliffe. “Who are you, sir? What happened?” he said, bewildered.

  “Come on, son. Come with me,” Hinchliffe said. He reached out to Freddie and pulled him to his feet and led him away toward the setting sun. Hinchliffe wanted to make sure the boy didn't go through the misery he'd endured during his own crossing over.

  Chaos remained on the airfield until the ship was finally docked. The yelling stopped and the engines were cut. All that remained was the sound of the carousel and the screams of girls on the slowly turning Ferris wheel, its colored lights vivid in the descending darkness.

  When the VIPs got down from the tower, they were met by a gaggle of reporters, including Hunter. They asked Thomson how his flight had been and he extolled the virtues of airship flight. He was, of course, more than ever convinced after this. The weather had been kind and the flight exceptionally smooth. He'd even sat up there in the heavens, working on ministerial business in perfect calm and serenity on the promenade deck.

  They'd flown over Sandringham where the King and Queen had come out and waved to them from the terrace. Thomson was elated and answered questions gladly. He told them he'd had a feeling of safety and well-being throughout the flight.

  “Do you look forward to going on a voyage soon, sir?” one reporter asked.

  He told them he was hoping to make a voyage to India during the Christmas recess and that he was much looking forward to it. The reporters reminded him that Christmas was less than three months away. Did he mean this Christmas? Thomson bristled. He stressed that he would not put pressure on his Cardington team. His motto would remain, he said, 'Safety First, and Safety Second, a
s well!’

  The mood changed when Hunter put up his hand and called a question from the back of the group.

  “Lord Thomson, George Hunter, Daily Express, do you have any comment about Mrs. Hinchliffe's warnings?”

  In a split second, Thomson’s demeanor changed from joy to irritation.

  Damn, not him again!

  He grimaced.

  “No, I do not, except to say that obviously, this woman has not been of sound mind since her husband's death. It's all very unfortunate.”

  Things went further downhill when Hunter followed up with another question. “Sir, are you aware that a young ground crewman died this evening?”

  This came as a bitter blow out of the blue.

  Thomson searched around into the faces of his Royal Airship Works team. They stared back at him blankly. Half of them didn't know either.

  “Are you sure? What happened?” Thomson asked.

  “We believe he was electrocuted, sir,” Hunter said. “I saw it happen with my own eyes.”

  Thomson was genuinely saddened by this news. He made his way to the car with Brancker, who was also deeply dejected now. He remembered Millie's warnings at the nightclub. Irwin's pronouncements in the control car were also still ringing in his ears. But Thomson was ignorant of all that.

  34

  AN APPEAL TO CAPTAIN IRWIN

  Saturday, October 19, 1929.

  DEATH AT CARDINGTON TOWER

  MRS. HINCHLIFFE'S VISION

  Underneath the Daily Express headline the next morning was a picture of Millie's painting with the caption: The Death of Freddie Marsh. The photo was in black and white, but it graphically showed young Freddie sprinting after the mooring line dropped from Cardington R101. Behind him were other ground-crewmen, chasing him, waving their arms and shouting. The tower was behind them with the lights of Cardington Fair and the Ferris wheel in the background. Hunter had raced over to Pickwick Cottage and Millie had given him a photo for use with his piece.

  Hunter's article gave a vivid description of the tragedy at the tower. It also pointed out that it had been Freddie Marsh's birthday. The report went on to mention Lord Thomson's description of the flight and his hope to fly to India at Christmas. The newspaper mentioned cryptically that he may have meant Christmas 1930.

  Millie decided to keep the pressure up and her mission in full swing. She went to the village and called Captain Irwin at Cardington House. He was happy to hear from her, although wary after the hullabaloo at Thomson's Garden Address. But he did agree to meet her. He was obviously concerned for Millie, as the wife of one of his best friends. He asked if she wouldn't mind meeting him at the fair on the green at lunchtime instead of coming to Cardington House. Word had gone out, Mrs. Hinchliffe was persona non grata. The boys in the bowler hats from the Air Ministry had made that clear. He said he'd be at the Ferris wheel at 1:00 p.m.

  Millie enlisted Hunter's help and he drove her to Cardington. They got there before the appointed hour and waited. They had a clear view of the Ferris wheel from there. Cardington R101 was close by, tethered to the tower. That thing gave Millie the creeps. Its foreboding presence contrasted with the colorful rides and happy sounds of fairground music and laughter. While they waited, they munched on cheese and tomato sandwiches Millie had brought. Hinchliffe watched from the backseat, invisible.

  They spotted Irwin in uniform coming toward the chestnut fencing entrance. Millie got out of the car and went to the Ferris wheel as he arrived. Hinchliffe went beside her. Hunter watched from the car. Their body language told the full story. Irwin looked sheepish at first, but nonetheless pleased to see her. They embraced and he kissed her cheek.

  “Millie, we were all so relieved to hear the insurance came through,” Irwin said.

  “My dear Bird, I'm thankful you came,” Millie said anxiously.

  “You sounded so urgent, I'm very concerned about you Millie. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Bird, I'm okay. It's you we're desperately worried about.”

  Irwin put his hand on her shoulder. “Millie, don't be. We're doing everything conceivable to make this airship absolutely safe.”

  Hinchliffe smirked and shook his head. He knew just how worried Irwin really was.

  Millie searched Irwin's eyes as he spoke. Underneath his apparent confidence, she sensed concern. His words didn't ring true. It wasn't that he was trying to deceive her—more like he was trying to convince himself. She sensed a nagging doubt in those eyes.

  “I've heard all that from Thomson. I'm sure what you say is true. You're all doing your level best, including Thomson.” Millie looked at him in desperation. “But that's not the point, Bird. It doesn't change the fact that the damned thing's going to crash and burn.” She pointed at the airship floating innocently at the tower a thousand yards away. Her eyes filled with tears. She took out her handkerchief from her handbag and wiped her eyes.

  Irwin shook his head. “Oh, Millie, don't. You can't possibly know that, can you?”

  “Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I do know.”

  “Millie, how could you possibly?”

  Millie took his hand and looked into his eyes. “Raymond has told me.” Her eyes appeared wild.

  Irwin looked dismissively at her and pulled away.

  “Please Bird, don't just turn away. Please listen to me. Raymond is desperately worried. He's following everything closely. He knows exactly what's going on—he knows the ship is overweight. He knows the engines are too heavy and underpowered. He says corrective measures they have in mind aren’t going to work. He talks about stuff—stuff I know nothing about. He knows all its faults—don't you see?”

  Irwin looked worried by this. There was truth in what she was saying. Hinchliffe knew they’d been discussing modifications to increase the ship’s lift just this week. Irwin was doing his best to keep his composure. He simply smiled and put both arms around her and kissed her cheeks. He shook his head again sadly. “Sorry Millie, old girl. You may be right about all this. Chances are, you're more right than you know. But I'm an officer and I have my duty. There's no way out for me, or anyone here. It's as simple as that, my dear. We're all in a box. We're committed.”

  “Bird, the boy that was killed here last week ...”

  Irwin winced. “Yes, what about him?”

  “When's his funeral?”

  “Not sure, they're doing an autopsy. He had a weak heart, apparently.”

  “That was an omen, Bird.”

  This only irritated the captain. Millie knew she was beaten. They stood for a few moments looking into each other eyes, as caring friends. There was nothing more to be said. Millie turned away and trudged toward Hunter's car, drawing her coat around her. Gusty winds blew the leaves around her feet. Irwin walked off toward the chestnut fencing and his airship, the mighty Cardington R101.

  35

  BLACK TUESDAY

  Tuesday, October 29, 1929.

  Millie made up her mind to attend Freddie Marsh's funeral at St. Mary's. Hunter had asked if she wanted to attend. He was covering the story. Freddie was buried on October 29, a day of misery that became known throughout the world as 'Black Tuesday'. Panic ran rampant when the American stock market crashed as soon as Wall Street opened for business. In New York, people were throwing themselves out of skyscraper windows.

  Freddie's burial had been delayed due to the requirement of an autopsy. Mourners weren't concerned with what was happening in the world of finance, but it added to the somber mood. The focus was on the boy’s family.

  Freddie's grave had been dug at the back of the churchyard in the ground where Millie had seen her vision. It was close to the great shed from which Cardington R101 had been launched. The higher echelon of the Royal Airship Works, including Irwin and Johnston, didn't attend lest the airship program garnered more adverse publicity.

  Under a darkening October sky, Millie and Hunter stood with the crowd in drizzle and blustery winds, the air heavy with smoke from burning leaves. A
cross the grave, Millie saw Commander Remington, his arm around a woman, presumably his wife—an exquisite dark-haired beauty. She appeared to be on the verge of collapse, her skin deathly white against severe black garb.

  Millie sensed Remington had seen her, although he showed no sign. The clergyman muttered prayers. Everyone stood rigidly still and grim-faced as the coffin was lowered into the ground. From the sad faces of dozens of young men, it appeared that young Freddie had been very popular. Millie also noticed Binks, the engineer. He, too, ignored her.

  Also standing with the crowd, although invisible, were Hinchliffe and Freddie. Hinchliffe kept his hand on Freddie's shoulder throughout the ceremony. The boy was deeply distressed to see his mother and father weeping for him. Hinchliffe noticed Remington's wife studying him. She'd seen him on the back of her husband's motorbike and later in their house. He'd learned since that she was a nurse. He knew the poor girl had suffered much these past few years. He also knew Freddie's death had caused her unbearable sadness.

  Millie had been torn—in two minds about going to the funeral. Was it pointless? Was it out of curiosity? She wished she'd made a real effort to prevent the boy's death somehow, but she knew everyone would say again that she was out of her mind. She'd known when it would happen—on October 16. She'd known where it would happen—at Cardington Tower. So why hadn't she done more? She had no answer for that. But come hell or high water, she'd do more, even if everyone thought she was completely mad.

  Standing at the grave, with Cardington R101 swaying in the breeze nearby, Millie vowed she'd increase her efforts to warn the world about the dangers of these dirigibles. She'd go on an all-out offensive this coming year—she now had the resources to do so.

  Hunter didn't attempt to interview anyone. The funeral was reported in three lines the following day.