THE "METEOR'S" DEBUT.
SETCHELL and Dr. Hambrough arrived before Whittinghame and his
companion had completed their preparations for dinner, and as soon as
the formal introductions were gone through, the thin ice of reserve
quickly vanished.
Dacres instinctively felt that he would have true comrades on his
first commission in the Dreadnought of the Air.
The two new arrivals were quite different in temperament. Setchell
was vivacious--even boisterous at times; while the doctor was grave
and dignified--at first one might have thought he was taciturn.
They were both fairly young men--under thirty--and as keen on their
work as Whittinghame could possibly desire.
"We're now practically ready to put the 'Meteor' into full
commission," observed Whittinghame. "All her stores are on board.
Dacres has to have his kit brought from London, and there is about
another half-day's work to complete the charging of the reserve
cylinders. So we'll have 'divisions' to-morrow, and put the men into
their proper watches. You brought those rifles along with you all
right, Setchell?"
"Rather. There are two cases of them at Holmsley Station, and four
boxes of ammunition. With the eight thousand rounds we already
have--I suppose you haven't expended any yet, sir--that ought to be
ample."
"Very good," assented the skipper. "We'll send a trolley for them
early to-morrow morning. By the by, how did you get on after we
dropped you at Yealmpton?"
Setchell laughed.
"You might have been more discriminating, sir, but I suppose we must
make allowances for the fact that it was pitch-dark and we could show
no light. As a matter of fact I found myself in a piggery. When I
managed to struggle out of that and over a very aggressive fence I
struck a fowl-run. Did you hear the noise those creatures made?"
"No, we were too far off by that time," replied Whittinghame.
"At any rate," continued the third officer, "the farmer turned out
with a gun. I had to pitch up some sort of yarn, so I told him I was
a tourist who had lost his way. The old chap promptly harnessed a
pony and drove me to the outskirts of Plymouth."
"Talking of that," remarked Dacres, "the shepherd of Canterbury said
the section of the airship that dropped to the ground was about the
size of a haystack."
"So it was," replied Whittinghame. "When we wish to make hurried
descents we can detach a subdivision of No. 3 section. It is also
handy for landing in fairly confined spaces, where the length of a
complete section might be too great for safety. I'll show you that
arrangement to-morrow; but what do you say to a game of billiards,
gentlemen? It may be our last opportunity for a considerable time,
for, with all her wonderful mechanism, I cannot guarantee a level bed
on board the 'Meteor.'"
This proposal was received with acclamation, and the four men
adjourned to the billiard-room, where they amused themselves till the
clock struck eleven and warned them that it was time to retire to
rest.
At ten on the following morning all hands formed up on the open space
between the sheds. There were thirty-two men, exclusive of the four
officers, and a fine athletic set they made, rigged out in neat yet
serviceable uniforms.
Whittinghame, as captain, headed the starboard watch, with the doctor
as his assistant for executive duties in the after-part of the ship;
for Hambrough was not content to act simply as surgeon to the ship's
company. Williamson was chosen as first quartermaster of the watch,
the rest of the division consisting of ten "deck hands" and five
mechanics for engine-room duties.
Dacres had charge of the port watch, Setchell being responsible for
the after-guard during the "watch on deck". The stalwart Irishman,
Callaghan, was appointed quartermaster, and the rest of the crew
consisted of an equal number of hands to that of the captain's watch.
The men were then served out with small-arms, the rifles being
up-to-date automatic weapons firing twenty-two cartridges and having
a range and velocity equal to the latest service rifles. Bayonets
were also issued, and since the crew had had a thorough training
whilst they were serving in the Royal Navy they were now able to pick
up their drill without much difficulty.
Under Dacres' orders they were exercised for nearly an hour. The
ex-sub-lieutenant had reason to be very well satisfied with them, and
expressed his opinion to Whittinghame that if necessary they could
give a very good account of themselves. As for the men, they
recognized that they had an officer over them who knew his work, and
they respected him accordingly.
At length the eventful Saturday came round, and just after eight
o'clock the fore-section of the airship was taken out of its shed
and, to use Dacres' expression, "sent aloft."
The bow portion, with its complement of nine men, was the first to
leave the ground, anchoring at a height of seventy-four feet from the
surface--the "ground-tackle" consisting of a bridle with a single
loop running through a huge pulley fixed in the earth, and back to
the bow division of the "Meteor."
No. 2 section was sent up, and by means of a wire hawser hauled into
position, so that the cam-action could come into play. Only three and
a half minutes elapsed between the time of its leaving the ground and
of its being united to the bow-section.
Divisions 3 and 4 were "launched" and joined up in a similar fashion,
"and then there was one," as the nursery rhyme goes.
Dacres found himself with six men to man the aftermost section of the
airship. He had already "got the hang of it," although he could not
quite see how any of the crew could be left behind to guide the huge
fabric on its ascent to unite to the still greater bulk that floated
serenely above the tree-tops, her propellers churning slowly ahead to
counteract the faint breeze that blew from the south-west.
"Give the word for the men to get aboard, sir," said Callaghan, who,
being an ex-gunner's mate, knew how to prompt judiciously young
officers who were not quite up to their work.
Dacres complied. He was glad of his quarter-master's assistance,
although fully determined to master his part of the routine as soon
as possible.
When the last man swarmed up the rope-ladder Dacres followed, and
took up his station at the open doorway in the for'ard bulkhead.
"All ready, sir?" asked Callaghan.
"All ready," echoed the newly appointed officer.
"Here's the lever for charging the ballonettes, sir," continued the
quartermaster. "Turn the indicator to eighty, sir. That will be
enough to raise us."
Gently and almost imperceptibly the after-section rose clear of the
ground, guided by a light wire rope joining it to the already
coupled-up portions of the airship. With a rhythmic purr the
windlass, worked by a supplementary belt from one of the motors,
hauled in the slack till the "Meteor" was complete and ready for
flight.
So nice was the adjustment of the various sections that connexion
with the telephones and electric telegraphs was made automatically by
the contact of insulated bushes in corresponding position to the
exterior bulkheads.
From the navigation-room for'ard Whittinghame asked if all were
ready, and received a confirmative reply from the after-end of the
ship. As far as Dacres was concerned he was now at liberty to "stand
easy," for it was his watch below, and Setchell had come aft to take
charge.
"Captain says he would like to see you for'ard," announced the third
officer. "Hold on till she gathers way, old man."
Warning bells tinkled in various parts of the giant airship.
Instantly every man grasped some object to prevent himself from being
thrown across the floor. Simultaneously the eight propellers began to
revolve.
For quite half a minute Dacres felt as if he were seized by an
invisible arm round his waist and was being forced backwards. Then
the tension ceased as the inertia was overcome, he was part and
parcel of a mass flying through the air at more than twice the speed
of an express train.
Dacres glanced at his watch--it was twenty-five minutes past
nine--then, lurching along the alley-way, for the "Meteor" was
trembling and swaying as she cleft the air, he made his way for'ard.
He found Whittinghame standing in front of one of the observation
scuttles in the lower navigation room. Williamson was at the wheel
controlling the vertical rudders, while another man had his eye upon
the indicators of the horizontal planes.
"Look!" exclaimed the captain, pointing downwards.
Dacres did so. Nine thousand feet beneath him stretched a ribbon-like
expanse of water like a silver-streak between dense woodland on one
hand and green fields on the other. Away on the starboard bow this
streak merged into a wide stretch of sea, backed by hills that were
dwarfed to the size of a mere series of mounds.
"By Jove! We're passing Southampton Water," ejaculated Dacres. He
again glanced at his watch. It had taken him three and a half minutes
to traverse the length of the "Meteor," and in that space of time the
airship had travelled eleven miles.
"Top speed now," announced Whittinghame. "We're doing one hundred and
ninety. We'll have to slacken down now; we're nearly there."
As he spoke the Captain rang down for half speed. The order being
simultaneously received by both engine-rooms, resulted in a gradual
slowing down till the mud-flats of Portsmouth Harbour hove in sight.
Even then the "Meteor" overhauled a naval seaplane as quickly as an
express runs past a "suburban" crawling into Clapham Junction.
"Still sou'west," remarked Whittinghame pointing to the smoke that
was pouring out of a tall chimney between Fareham and Gosport. "We'll
bring her head to wind in any case."
Down swooped the "Meteor" till she was less than three hundred feet
from the ground. She was now following the main road to Gosport. On
her left could be discerned the battleships and cruisers in the
harbour, their decks and riggings black with men, while hundreds of
craft of various sizes, crowded with spectators, literally swarmed on
the tidal waters between the Dockyard and the western shore.
Swooping past the new semaphore tower, and skimming above the lofty
chimneys of the electric light station, the "Meteor" shaped a course
towards the Town Hall clock tower. So quickly did she turn that it
seemed as if a straight line between the bow and stern would cut the
masonry of the tower. Looking aft the appearance of the twelve
hundred feet of airship reminded Dacres of a train taking a curve.
Her starboard planes were within twenty feet of the cupola of the
tower.
But the helmsman knew his business. He was well to leeward of the
improvised "pylon," and before the thousand of spectators gathered in
the Town Hall square could recover from their astonishment the
"Meteor" was heading back to the dockyard.
Slowly, with her propellers revolving enough to keep her up against
the breeze, the Dreadnought of the Air hovered over the Government
establishment, seeking a place where she could come to rest. The
swarm of vessels in the harbour made it impossible for her to descend
without great risk to the spectators.
"There's the semaphore working," announced Dacres, pointing to the
two arms that were set at the "preparatory" sign.
In response to an order, one of the "Meteor's" crew, armed with two
hand flags, made his way up to the platform of the promenade deck. As
soon as he replied, the semaphore began to spell out the message:--
"Berth ready for airship in Fountain Lake," said Dacres, translating
the signal for his chief's information. "That's on the north side of
the Dockyard and between it and Whale Island."
"Easy ahead," ordered Whittinghame; then, "Stop her."
A series of hisses, similar to the sounds that Dacres had heard when
he first beheld the "Meteor," announced that the contents of several
of the ballonettes were being pumped out and forced into the metal
cylinders. Slowly and on an even keel the giant bulk sank lower and
lower till a gentle roll announced that the airship was riding head
to wind upon the sheltered waters of Portsmouth Harbour. The "Meteor"
had made her debut.