In The Hangar
The return flight to Bellevue was uneventful and the monoplane settled
down beside the Goliath’s hangar shortly after noon. Andy taxied the
plane up to the apron and they piled out and hurried into the main
hangar to see what progress had been made on the Goliath since their
departure.
Even in the short time they had been away the crews had put on the
finishing touches. The great silver hull gleamed in the softened light
of the hangar. The main gondola had been completed, the observation
cockpits on top of the big bag were in place and hundreds of helium
tanks were piled along the walls of the hangar—empty. That meant that
the gas cells had been filled with the precious gas. The Goliath was
almost ready to take the air.
Charles High and Captain Harkins hurried up to them.
“How does the Goliath look today?” Andy’s father asked.
“Wonderful, Dad, simply wonderful,” replied Andy. “When will you make
the first test?”
“We may walk it out of the hangar tomorrow but we won’t make a real
flight for several days,” replied the vice president in charge of
operations for the National Airways. “The army has a finger in the pie
and when we actually take the air several members of the general staff
and a dozen air corps experts will want to be aboard to see if it
behaves to specifications.”
“I’m sure it will,” put in Blatz. “I’ve seen a good many of Doctor
Eckener’s ships at Friedrichshafen and with all due respect to the Herr
Doctor, the Goliath is the finest, most carefully designed and built
aircraft I have ever seen.”
“That’s a real compliment,” chuckled Bert. “It isn’t very often a
European will concede superiority to an American in anything.”
“Blatz is right,” said Captain Harkins quietly. “There is no question
about the Goliath being the finest airship ever built. I expect it to
live up to our every hope in its performance in the air.”
“We were surprised when Gilbert Mathews informed Harry of the advance in
sailing plans,” Andy told his father.
“I was a trifle surprised, too,” admitted the vice president of National
Airways. “Mathews wired me the same day of the change in plans and I
replied that the Goliath would be able to advance its air tests and keep
the date to meet him at the pole even with the earlier sailing. I can’t
blame him, though, for wanting to take advantage of the favorable ice
conditions which are reported in the north now.”
“The Neptune is a great submarine,” said Bert, “as far as subs go but
I’ll take an airplane or dirigible any day. Being shut up in one of
those things is like sailing around in a tub. I wouldn’t trade my radio
cubby on the Goliath for a dozen jobs on the Neptune.”
“Someone had to go on the Neptune and we’ll give Harry plenty of credit
for his nerve,” said Andy. “Will you be able to pick up his message
tonight?”
“I promised him I’d tune in every night at eight,” replied Bert. “We
ought to hear him plainly.”
Captain Harkins asked Andy to accompany him to the main office to check
over the final construction reports on the Goliath while Andy’s father
took Blatz on an inspection trip over the big bag. They entered the
luxuriously furnished gondola with its lounge and radio room, the dining
salon and the glass enclosed promenade. Then to the upper deck of the
gondola where the passenger cabins were located. The interior finish was
in a cool, pleasing gray, a favorable contrast to the silver of the
metalized hull.
After leaving the gondola, they walked down the main runway which was
built lengthwise down the middle of the Goliath. In the earlier
dirigibles this had been little more than a catwalk and none too safe. A
plunge off would have meant crashing through the outer fabric and a fall
to earth. In the Goliath the main runway was a substantial affair six
feet wide. Made of duralumin, it was strong but light and guard rails
proved ample protection for members of the crew or passengers who might
be permitted to view the interior of the big airship.
The gas bags were inflated with, helium and held rigidly in place, six
of them in the forward part of the ship and six of them in the after
section. The transverse rings built of girders of duralumin separated
each bag and there was a narrow catwalk between each large gas cell to
facilitate the stopping of any possible leaks.
The motor gondolas were built inside the hull with the flexible
propeller shafts sticking through the side. There were six of the motor
gondolas on each side and each car was carefully insulated so that fire
could be confined to one section of the dirigible.
The mid-section of the Goliath was forbidden ground to Blatz for it was
here that space had been provided for the storing of airplanes in time
of war. A special device which hooked onto the planes while they were in
flight and lifted them into the hold in the center of the airship had
been perfected by Captain Harkins and Blatz was anxious to see this. He
was in for a disappointment that afternoon for Charles High did not take
him back that far. Instead, they stopped at the fourth transverse girder
where a stairway led to the top of the dirigible. There were six of
these stairs all told, each running to the top and giving access to the
observation cockpits. There was a runway on top of the Goliath with
strong cables stretched along the side but it would be almost worth a
man’s life to attempt to walk on it while the dirigible was in motion
and especially if the air happened to be the least bit rough. A fine
place, thought Blatz, for anyone who was inclined to be seasick.
They walked along the outer runway toward the rear of the Goliath and
from this elevation Blatz had a real opportunity to realize the size of
the new king of the air—the craft which Reikoff had termed an “air
monster.” When they reached the after part of the dirigible with its
great fin and elevators, they descended into the interior. Motor crews
were busy tuning up the engines and the air was filled with the
tenseness of preparation.
At dinner that night Captain Harkins announced that he had received word
from the army air corps that the officers who would report on the trial
flights of the Goliath would be at Bellevue before noon the next day.
“That means we’ll walk the Goliath out at one o’clock if the wind and
weather are favorable.”
The words came to Blatz through a daze. He had seen Andy and Merritt
Timms of the secret service conferring before dinner and from the look
Timms had shot his way he knew that he had been the object of their
discussion. The Goliath would be out of its hangar tomorrow. Army
officers would arrive and from then on there would be little opportunity
to damage the big ship. Tonight was the time! Even though Andy might be
suspicious, he would hardly believe him capable of so daring an attempt
on the Goliath. Blatz set his jaw firmly. It was going to be a task he
did not fancy for his love for the Goliath had grown until he quailed at
the thought of its destruction. But he was a Rubanian, a member of the
Gerka. He could not escape from his duty.
Andy found an item of interest in the evening paper which he showed
Blatz. It was another bulletin from Rubania. Revolution was threatening.
Reikoff’s power was tottering.
Blatz read it eagerly. Perhaps he would not be forced to destroy the
Goliath after all. If he could only wait a few more days. But the one
big opportunity was at hand. Tonight was the logical one for his task.
Andy noticed the European’s hands shook as he read the item, but Blatz’s
face showed no change of emotion.
“Come on, you two,” called Bert. “Let’s get over to my radio shack and
we’ll see if we can pick up Harry somewhere off Long Island in his tin
fish.”
It was nearly eight o’clock when they reached the radio shack just
outside the main hangar and it took Bert some time to time up his
apparatus. He plugged in on the main transmitter and a minute later
turned around with a grin.
“Harry is burning up the air,” chuckled Bert. “I was late coming in and
wants to know what I’d been doing. Accuses me of over-eating. Imagine.”
The stream of dots and dashes which had been flickering through the air
ceased.
“We’re going to try the radiophone now,” explained Bert, “and we’ll be
able to talk back and forth.”
When Bert completed the proper adjustments Andy almost fell out of his
chair as Harry’s voice echoed in the little room.
“Hello Bert. Hello Andy,” said Harry, eight hundred miles away and under
water in the radio room of the Neptune. “Tell Blatz hello, too, if he’s
with you,” added Harry.
“The three of us are in the radio shack,” replied Bert, “and I resent
your implication that I overate tonight. I over-talked.”
“Which is just as bad,” came back the voice over the ether waves.
Andy picked up the microphone and spoke to Harry.
“How is the trip going?” he asked, “and where are you?”
“We’re about 130 miles out of New York harbor,” replied Harry. “The sea
is a little choppy but nothing to write home about. Everything is
running smoothly so far and we ought to put in at Plymouth in about 12
days.”
“How’s the air in your tin fish?” Bert wanted to know.
“Fine,” replied Harry. “The main hatch has been open all of the time and
I haven’t a thing to complain about. I’ll have to sign off now and send
some messages for Mr. Mathews. I’ll buzz you again at eight in the
morning.”
“Be sure you make it at eight o’clock our time,” warned Bert as he
signed off.
Bert had some work to do on his reserve radio equipment and Andy went to
his own office to look over the correspondence which had accumulated
during his absence in New York.
Blatz, professing to be tired after the flight down from New York, said
he would go to the hotel and retire early. Andy watched until the German
civilian observer bad crossed the track and was well on his way to the
hotel. He had told Timms of his experience in New York but the secret
service man was still inclined not to doubt Blatz’s right to be at
Bellevue. Whatever watching of the observer was done would have to be by
Andy.
The assistant pilot of the Goliath was busy half an hour reading and
sorting the mail. It was unusually quiet around the hangar that night so
the scuffing of something against a stick caught Andy’s attention.
Someone was walking cautiously toward the hangar!
Andy remained in his chair, fingering through the pile of letters before
him. The guarded sound came again. At the end of a minute he turned out
the light and slipped out of his office. A small door which led into the
main hangar was open.
Andy returned to his office to get his flashlight. Remembering that he
had left it at the hotel, he found some matches beside a half dozen red
lanterns which were used to mark danger places on the field. Since the
Goliath used helium there was no danger of an explosion from striking a
match in the hangar or, for that matter, aboard the Goliath itself.
The assistant pilot of the dirigible stepped quickly through the door
and paused to accustom his eyes to the heavy darkness of the interior.
He slipped off his shoes and then moved slowly toward the lighter
outline of the silvered hull of the Goliath.
Andy paused. Someone was moving slowly just ahead of him. The young
airman groped his way ahead, hands outstretched. The next second he was
clutching someone’s coat.
They came to grips, but only for a second. The unknown invader of the
hangar slipped out of his coat and Andy heard him running out of the
hangar.
Muttering to himself in disgust, Andy stooped to strike a match and look
at the coat he had seized. As he struck a match, he slipped and stumbled
headlong. The match dropped into a chunk of oily waste. It flared and
burst into flame but Andy remained motionless on the floor, his head
resting against a heavy wood block it had struck.
The fire in the waste glowed brightly and leaped higher as it fed on the
oil which saturated the waste. Unless help reached Andy soon the fire
would spread to other parts of the hangar and the Goliath itself would
be in danger of destruction!