THE SILVER SHIP
For nearly four years David had been an apprentice-student at the
Lighter-than-Air School at Goodlow Field. During that time many changes
had taken place. The school, at first housed in a single building on the
Goodlow property, now had commodious brick buildings for classrooms,
laboratories and dormitories. The school was run on an original scheme,
which had proved most successful. It was co-operative. The students
received free tuition and a small salary, in return for which they gave
their labor. Any student falling below a certain grade was immediately
dismissed.
This benevolent scheme of education was made possible by the kindness of
one of America’s greatest philanthropists, Mr. John Harrison Hammond,
who added the strength of his millions to the Goodlow holdings at Ayre.
The erection of the great new hangar, or dock, was a story in itself.
Even in this day of architectural and engineering miracles, the building
was unbelievably huge. It was the largest airport factory and dock in
the world. Its floor was a vast concrete spread, the largest
uninterrupted floor area yet built. Over this rose the dock structure, a
cavernous semi-paraboloid building. From the passing airplane, it looked
like a peanut or a silkworm cocoon. It was lighted with tier after tier
of glass, in steel frames, so precisely made that a push-button
controlled whole units of windows. The enormous doors, two-thirds glass,
slid on ball-bearing wheels along tracks imbedded in the floor. These,
too, were operated by a one-man lever.
In the top of the arching roof was tackle to hold the dirigibles during
construction. Here swung the great shapes slowly evolving from ghostly
skeletons to the finished marvels ready for flight. There was space for
the construction of two ships at the same time.
The ship that hung there partly finished was the largest yet built.
Perfect in line, and carrying many new features; as yet unnamed, her
career undecided, she drew David like a magnet. She was his dream ship,
at last come true.
At the back of the dock built into the wall was a row of offices for the
executives. The central office belonged to Colonel Porter, A. C., U. S.
A. retired, Commandant of the school and chief of the dock forces.
Colonel Porter was a lifelong friend of Mr. Hammond, and his influence
had persuaded the great financier to put his personal energy and many
millions of his vast fortune into the great task of today—the
development of aviation.
One morning late in May, the two friends sat in Colonel Porter’s office.
“I hardly expected you so soon,” said Colonel Porter.
“Well, Port, I’ve decided to spend the rest of my life around the ships.
I like it. I’m not young, but my money can do the hard work. I’m
inclined to help you push this business as far as it will go.”
“Exactly what I hoped you would decide to do!” exclaimed the Colonel.
“And you have already made a wonderful start. This ship you are
financing—you would be surprised at the callers she has had; people
from all over the world, looking her over, taking snapshots of her,
writing down her dimensions. We could sell her tomorrow.”
“Have any changes been made recently?” asked Mr. Hammond.
“Not a thing,” said Colonel Porter. “Here are the original
specifications.” He hunted up a long sheet of paper.
“Never mind the figures,” said Mr. Hammond hastily. “My clipping agency
sends me about two a day, usually different, but they all agree that she
contains ten million, two hundred thousand cubic feet and is twelve
stories high amidship. You know that item seems to make a great hit with
the public. What will her lifting power be, Port?”
“Well, hydrogen gives us eighty pounds to the thousand feet, and helium
sixty pounds to the thousand. That works out to eight hundred thousand
pounds. You can depend on four hundred tons of useful lift.”
“Gosh, that sounds like a lot!”
“It’s handy to have.”
“It does seem, Port, as though we ought to make more than seventy-five
miles an hour with those five huge engines.”
“It can’t be done, Harry. Not with a ship that size.”
“Did you decide to use the new weave of linen cloth for the covering?”
“Yes, it is a great improvement. And the new style seam-lacings hold
perfectly. What are you going to name the ship, by the way?”
“I selected half a dozen names that sounded good to me,” said Mr.
Hammond. “Hammond High-flyer, Harkaway, and some others, but daughter
Dulcie objected. Made such a fuss that I said she could name it
herself.”
“What were her contributions?” asked Colonel Porter with a smile. He
knew Dulcie Hammond.
“She didn’t bother with a choice. She says the ship is named Moonbeam.”
“It is a splendid name. Harry, you don’t know how fine that ship is
going to be. She will be the most beautiful ship in the air.”
“I want her to be,” said Mr. Hammond with a dogged, grim look that
Colonel Porter knew of old. “I am planning to show that ship to the
world, Port. She has got to be perfect. What do you think of following
the course of the Graf Zeppelin, for a starter, and beating the G. Z.’s
time?”
Colonel Porter whistled.
“I think it would be all right. Her maiden flight, eh? I wonder if she
can do it.”
“Nothing like trying, is there? When will she be ready to fly?”
Colonel Porter reflected.
“She will be finished about the first of June. Then she must make some
trial flights. You can take off by the fourteenth or fifteenth. You will
go, won’t you?”
“You bet! I’m commander of that ship. And I want you to pick out a few
of the students, all grades, for staff. I think it would be a wonderful
try-out for them.”
“I’ll do it,” said Colonel Porter with enthusiasm.
“Why don’t you come along, Port? You need a rest.”
Colonel Porter groaned.
“Rest? Why, Harry, we are simply swamped with work. I couldn’t possibly
get away.”
“I wish you could,” said Mr. Hammond, and was silent a few moments.
“Those gas bags,” he continued, following the train of his thought,
“they are absolutely impervious to any kind of gas, aren’t they?”
“Absolutely, when made of the substance we call, for lack of a better
name, gold-beater’s skin. You know gold-beaters beat their gold into the
tissue-like sheets used by the trade, by putting it between layers of
the split and cleansed intestines of the ox, and pounding it. For the
gas bags, they split and clean the intestines, and lay them out with
overlapping edges. Others are laid on top, at right angles. These
congeal into a mass of fabric, which is flexible, yet perfectly
impervious.”
“It certainly beats all,” said Mr. Hammond. “By the way, Port, whom
shall I take on as captain? Got a good man?”
“The best!” said Colonel Porter heartily. “A man named Fraine. Captain
Fraine is as good a man as flies. During the war he was shot down and
badly wounded, and wears a small silver plate on his head. He has been
with us for six years. I advise Fraine.”
“All right; whatever you say goes. Just give me a good staff and a good
crew.” Mr. Hammond rose and stretched his great shoulders. “Let’s go
look at the Moonbeam.”
The following day Mr. Hammond flew down to New York, but a telegram from
Colonel Porter brought him back on the first of June. He found the
Moonbeam lowered and workmen putting the final touches on her passenger
gondola, establishing the monstrous engines in the five “eggs” that were
waiting for them, and varnishing the propellers with the hardest,
smoothest spar varnish, to reduce friction. The seam-lacings had been
tightened, and the linen cover looked as pale and smooth as aluminum.
Men were painting the window casings of the gondola, others were testing
the screws and bolts holding the ladders leading from the five eggs into
the hull.
Beneath the ship, groups of sightseers moved slowly. They came in
chatting shrilly after the manner of the Great American Tourist, but the
immensity of the dock and the sight of the vast silver ship, so
quiescent in the hands of her makers, seemed to quell them.
Mr. Hammond and Colonel Porter entered the ship through the door in the
center of the right side of the passenger gondola. From the doorway,
they walked straight ahead along a short passage to the center of the
gondola, where they turned to the right, along another passage into the
control room. This spacious room occupied the whole forward end of the
gondola. The oval front was composed entirely of windows, through which
the officer at the wheel had an unobstructed view.
Leaving the control room, the first room on the right was the chart
room, a small cubicle fitted with drawers and filing cases. Opposite
this was the navigator’s room. Directly back of this was the galley, a
small but perfect kitchen, where every inch of space was utilized by the
latest electrical cooking utensils. The very sight of the wealth of pots
and pans, the roasters, broilers, frying baskets and toasters made Mr.
Hammond rub his hands delightedly.
Colonel Porter managed to get Mr. Hammond away from the galley, and they
went directly across the passage into the radio room.
The salon came next. This room was dining-room and lounge in one. It
filled the breadth of the gondola, and had six broad windows that gave
ample space for observation. There were six extension tables, chairs, a
couple of divans, and a desk. The chair covers, window curtains and
walls were bright with French flowered chintz. It was as gay and
luxurious as a private yacht.
Back of this room, with a passage between, were the staterooms; six on
each side, with double-decked bunks. These cabins were equipped with
every luxury to be found on an ocean liner.
Behind the staterooms, one on either side of the passage, were the
wash-rooms, beautifully equipped, one for men and one for women
passengers. Everything in the passenger gondola was as near perfect as
modern appliances and human ingenuity could make it.
They walked back to the radio room, in a corner of which a steel ladder
led up into the hull. There they inspected the quarters of the officers
and crew; plainer but just as comfortable as those down below. Mr.
Hammond, notwithstanding his size, was well muscled and agile. He
followed Colonel Porter along the catwalks, among the fuel tanks, and
then up the many ladders to the observer’s platform, where they lifted
the trap and stepped out on the very top of the ship.
“This dock is certainly a big place,” said Mr. Hammond, staring about.
“Yes,” replied Colonel Porter. “It is hard to realize its size. You can
give its footage, twelve hundred feet long, three hundred and
twenty-five feet wide, and two hundred and four feet high, but that
doesn’t convey much. But pause to remember that if it was placed in
front of the national Capitol at Washington, it would hide the entire
building except a little bit of the spire. Or you could lay the
Woolworth building and Washington monument down in it, side by side, and
almost lose them. Or you could stage ten full-sized football games in it
at the same time, and still have plenty of room to spare.”
They made their way down through the hull to the gondola, where workmen
were now busy putting on electric light fixtures, and went back to
Colonel Porter’s office.