Flood Relief
News of the Goliath’s victorious battle against the most severe storm of
the spring was spread on the front page of every newspaper in the
country the next day and special writers and correspondents for the big
press associations besieged the military patrol at Bellevue. Venturesome
photographers even attempted to fly over the plant and snap pictures of
the hangar but the army planes soon put an end to that stunt.
The insistence of the reporters compelled the attention of Andy’s father
and Captain Harkins, and they called Andy into their conference. He
advised that reporters be escorted through the hangar and taken on a
thorough trip over the dirigible.
“We want the public to have faith in the Goliath,” counseled Andy, “and
the reporters must have the facts if they are to write intelligently.”
“I believe you’re right,” agreed his father and Captain Harkins added a
word of approval.
Andy and Bert were designated as the tour conductors and they met the
reporters at the hotel. Nine men and two women were in the group they
escorted to the plant.
Andy was amused by their exclamations of wonder at the size of the
Goliath and he was pleased at their open praise of the beauty of the
great ship. The inspection tour required two hours that afternoon for
they went into every part of the dirigible, even up to the observation
cockpits on top and several of the more daring reporters walking along
the upper catwalk.
When they returned to the main cabin, they found that Captain Harkins
had ordered the steward to serve tea. It was late afternoon by the time
the reporters departed, but they left highly elated over their
expedition and promised that glowing stories of the Goliath would appear
in their papers and on the press association wires.
When they had gone, Andy and Bert sat down on the steps of the hotel.
The tension of fighting with the Goliath through the storm of the night
before had carried them along but now they relaxed and an enveloping
cloak of fatigue settled over them.
“I’m so tired I can hardly wiggle,” groaned Bert.
“I’m just about that bad,” agreed Andy. “Believe me, I’ll go to bed early
tonight.”
“Wonder what’s happened to Harry and the Neptune?” said Bert. “I managed
to roll out this morning in time to tune in at eight o’clock but I
didn’t get even a peep out of him.”
“I must have been sound asleep when you got up,” said Andy, “for I
didn’t hear a thing.”
“I came back to bed after failing to get in touch with Harry,” replied
Bert. “I’ll try again tonight at eight. Hope I have better luck. I
wouldn’t trust one of those tin fish as far as I could throw my hat.
They don’t look safe to me.”
“I expect a sailor feels the same way about an airship,” said Andy. “It
all depends on what you’re used to.”
After dinner that night Andy’s father announced that special tests would
be made the next week, including the attaching of a plane to the Goliath
while in flight. This had been successfully accomplished by the Akron
and they expected no difficulty. The special rigging was already at
Bellevue and it would be only the matter of a few days to complete the
installation. The Goliath differed from the Akron in one capacity. Where
the Akron could carry a single plane slung underneath in a special
carriage, the Goliath had a special hold midships where the planes could
be raised and stored. It could accommodate four fast pursuit ships,
launching them as it sped through the air at one hundred miles an hour.
It was from this viewpoint that the Goliath held unusual value to the
army officers.
Shortly before eight o’clock Andy and Bert went to the radio room, where
Bert tuned up his receiver for a talk with Harry, now far out to sea in
the Neptune.
He turned on the power at eight o’clock and waited patiently for a
signal from the submarine. When it failed to come he tried calling Harry
but even then failed to get a reply.
Bert worked for an hour hoping that he could get some answer from the
Neptune but at nine o’clock was forced to admit defeat.
“I’m getting worried,” confessed Bert. “It was too stormy to make
contact last night so it’s been nearly 36 hours since we’ve heard from
Harry and anything can happen out there in mid-ocean.”
“Don’t let your imagination run away with you,” counseled Andy, who
admitted to himself that he was afraid some accident had befallen the
Neptune. “They’ve probably run into a streak of bad weather and may have
submerged to try and ride it out.”
“I’ll try again the first thing in the morning,” said Bert. “We’ve just
got to hear from Harry,” he added desperately.
In spite of their fatigue, Andy and Bert passed a restless night and
they were up with the first sign of the dawn. Without waiting for
breakfast they hurried to the radio room where Bert tuned in on the wave
length used for communication between the station at Bellevue and the
Neptune.
“Someone’s on the air,” he said quickly. “I can hear the hum of his
transmitter; sounds like Harry’s set.”
“Hello, Neptune,” said Bert. “This is the station at Bellevue, Ky.,
calling for the submarine Neptune, now en route to Plymouth, England.
Hello, Neptune, hello!”
Andy bent close to the loud speaker, waiting eagerly for the ether waves
to bring a reply to Bert’s call.
It failed to come and Bert repeated his call. Still there was no answer
and the call went out a third and then a fourth time.
“I can’t understand his failure to reply,” said Bert. “His set is
running.”
“Try it once more,” urged Andy. “Maybe we’ll have better luck.”
Bert repeated his call and then gazed at Andy incredulously as Harry’s
familiar voice replied almost immediately.
“You must be a prophet,” Bert told Andy. “Where in the dickens have you
been for the last two days?” he asked Harry. “We’ve been scared stiff
for fear your tin fish might have sunk.”
“No such luck,” replied Harry. “I’ve been so seasick I couldn’t even sit
up. This is my first message since I last talked with you two days ago.”
“Been running into rough weather?” asked Andy.
“I never dreamed the ocean could be so nasty,” replied Harry in a hollow
voice. “We’ve been tossed around like a cork and half the crew has been
under the weather. This morning is the first time in 48 hours we could
cruise on the surface with any degree of comfort.”
“Don’t blame us for your predicament,” said Bert unfeelingly. “I warned
you to keep out of the submarine. But, no, you knew best.”
“Listen,” replied Harry. “I couldn’t let you go to the North Pole and
slip one over on me so when I heard the Neptune was going to make the
trip I signed up. You fellows wait until old man weather gets a real
good shot at you and you won’t think it is quite so funny.”
“We’ve had our turn,” said Andy, and he told Harry in detail of the
events which had occurred on their return from New York and of their
strenuous battle against the elements.
“Looks to me like the Goliath and the Neptune proved their ability at
about the same time,” said Harry. “After the last two days in the
Neptune, I’ve got every confidence in it.”
“I called you for fifteen minutes before you answered,” said Bert. “Your
transmitter was on the air but I couldn’t get any reply.”
“The answer is simple,” replied Harry. “I wasn’t here. As I said before,
I’ve been feeling pretty rocky. Well, I came up to the radio room and
turned on the set, intending to call you. Then I got shaky again and had
to go back and lie down. Guess I forgot to turn off the set and it kept
buzzing away.”
“How much longer will it take you to reach Plymouth?” asked Andy.
“With the delay we’ve encountered on account of the storm, it will take
nearly another week,” replied Harry, “and here’s hoping that we’ll have
fair weather from now on.”
They signed off a few minutes later after agreeing to talk again that
night at eight o’clock.
The remainder of that day and the rest of the week was devoted to the
installation of the special landing apparatus which would snare a plane
out of mid-air and haul it safely into the inner hold of the Goliath.
Andy and Bert talked with Harry every day and learned that the Neptune,
aided by favorable weather, was making good progress. The sea had
steadied down and Harry had found his sea legs and his appetite had
returned.
“Which means,” laughed Bert, “that the cook aboard that sub is going to
have a man-sized job keeping Harry filled with food.”
Air corps officers from various posts flew in to inspect the Goliath
while the members of the official board which had accompanied the
airship on its flight to New York remained at hand for further tests. It
was Tuesday of the following week before the installation of the special
gear had been completed and the Goliath pronounced ready for further
tests.
The pursuit ship of Lieutenant Crummit was also fitted with special
rigging and when this was completed they were ready for another trial.
Tuesday was an ideal spring day with plenty of sunshine and only a
slight breeze from the south. The Goliath was walked out of its hangar
and, with Captain Harkins at the controls and Andy at his side, made its
third trip aloft.
When they were well under way, Andy went back midships to supervise the
contact with the pursuit plane.
Lieutenant Crummit buzzed nervously about the Goliath in his fast
single-seater. The airship gradually stepped up its speed until it was
doing a hundred miles an hour, going fast enough for the contact to be
made.
Back in the cavernous hold of the Goliath a tense crew was waiting to
leap to its task. Andy’s father came back to watch the operation.
A great arm hung beneath the dirigible and from this arm extended a
V-shaped coupler into which the coupler on the plane would fit.
Synchronization of speed was the main thing upon which success depended
and it was up to Lieutenant Crummit to creep up under the Goliath at
just a trifle more than a hundred miles an hour.
From the observation windows in the keel Andy watched the approach of
the pursuit plane. Lieutenant Crummit was coming in as slowly as he
dared, maneuvering carefully in an attempt to make the coupling on the
first contact.
The triangular coupling mounted on the upper wing of the army plane
slipped into the “V” of the arm below the Goliath. There was a slight
jolt at the shock of contact and Lieutenant Crummit, assured that the
coupling was fast, cut the switches on his motor and looked up
expectantly.
Andy threw over the switch on the main control. The large trap door at
the bottom of the Goliath rolled back. Simultaneously the arm which held
the army plane fast in its grip moved upward rapidly, bringing the
pursuit ship with it. In another thirty seconds the army fighter was
deposited safely in the hold, the trap door was back in place and the
powerful crane, or arm, which had caught and lifted the plane, was back
in position.
Lieutenant Crummit leaped from the cockpit and ran toward Andy.
“That’s the greatest aerial stunt I’ve ever seen,” he said. “Why, it’s
as simple as falling off a log. I couldn’t miss that big ‘V’ and the
next thing I knew the plane was being whirled upward.”
Army officers who had watched the operation from the control room came
back to interview the lieutenant and get his report. It was decided to
repeat the maneuver, only this time the plane would be set into flight
from the Goliath.
The large crane was lifted back into the hold and made fast to the
plane. When Lieutenant Crummit signalled he was ready, Andy opened the
trap door and dropped the plane through. The army flyer switched on his
inertia starter, the warm motor caught the first time over and the
propeller went into its dazzling whirl.
Lieutenant Crummit threw up his left arm as a signal for the release and
the big crane relinquished its grip on the pursuit ship. The army plane
dropped down and away from the Goliath, then climbed and raced wildly
around the mother ship. The Goliath had passed another one of its
exacting tests successfully and Andy returned to the main control room
and relieved Serge, who had taken his place during his absence in the
hold.
Instead of heading back for Bellevue, the Goliath swung north and Andy
looked inquiringly at his father, who had just returned from a
conference with the army men.
“We’re going to give Cincinnati a treat,” said the vice president of the
National Airways. “We can make the trip up there and be back home before
dark.”
With Lieutenant Crummit’s plane and another army craft as escorts, the
Goliath roared northward at a hundred miles an hour, knifing its silver
hull through the lazy, fleecy clouds.
The Ohio river, heavy-burdened with a spring flood, rolled ahead of them
and just beyond was the haze which hung over Cincinnati. It was a
surprise visit but the townspeople were not long in hurrying into the
streets to glimpse the king of the air. They wheeled and turned over
Cincinnati for a half hour before heading back for Bellevue.
Bert, who had left his radio room, leaned out a window and looked down
at the swollen Ohio.
“There’s plenty of water rolling down to the Gulf,” he told Andy, “and
from all reports the Ohio isn’t the only river on a rampage. Almost
every large tributary of the Mississippi is at flood stage, which means
plenty of trouble for people living down in the lower river country. It
will take several days for the flood waters to get there, but when they
do the country is going to forget about the Goliath and think about the
flood.”
“You’re a cheerful sort of a soul,” smiled Andy.
“Just mark my words,” insisted Bert. “I predict a big flood on the lower
portions of the Mississippi.”
They returned to Bellevue as twilight was draping its mantle of soft
purple over the valley and it was dark, by the time the Goliath was in
its berth.
There were minor adjustments and changes to be made on the Goliath and
the next three days were busy ones for the officers and members of the
crew.
Bert’s prediction was coming true, if the stories appearing in the
papers were not exaggerating the situation. From Memphis down the
Mississippi was on a rampage, crashing through the man-made barriers
that had been erected to keep it in its channel and spreading death and
destruction over large areas of fertile land.
The Friday morning paper, which reached Bellevue by bus shortly after
noon, emphasized the need for relief measures, stressing that refugees
were without proper clothes or food. The national Red Cross had stepped
in and was making every effort to relieve the situation but it was
impossible to reach some of the more isolated regions and women and
children were believed to be in want.
“What they need is a dirigible,” said Andy. “Why, we could load the
Goliath with tons of food and clothing, cruise over that area at a low
altitude, and drop supplies for hundreds of refugees.”
“Why don’t you suggest it to your father?” said Bert.
“I’ll do it right now,” said Andy, and he started toward the hotel.
Charles High heard his son’s story without comment and when Andy was
through, spoke with his characteristic decision.
“I’ll put through a call to the national Red Cross office in
Washington,” he said, “and if the need is as serious as you feel, we’ll
start before dawn.”
The national headquarters of the Red Cross confirmed the emergency and
welcomed the offer of the National Airways to send the Goliath into the
flood region. Arrangements were made to bring in supplies on a special
train from Cincinnati and the loading of the Goliath was set for shortly
after midnight.
The special train arrived an hour late and the crew of the airship
worked with feverish haste to transfer the clothes and food from the
express cars to the Goliath. The task was completed at four o’clock and
with the first tints of dawn in the sky, the Goliath was taken out of
its hangar and started on its errand of mercy.
Captain Harkins held the big ship at a steady eighty miles an hour and
by mid-forenoon they were well below Memphis and swinging over the flood
area. The Mississippi had turned its valley into an immense brown lake.
The waters had swilled through towns, inundating streets and sweeping
houses from their foundations.
Many of the towns had been deserted while others, on higher ground, were
completely cut off by the flood. It was to the latter that the Goliath
was directed.
Bert kept in touch with the latest radio reports on the conditions and
the Goliath swung from one village to another. Andy, back in the hold,
superintended the dropping of food and clothes. The food was put into
bundles of clothes and then dropped overboard, the Goliath descending
until it was a bare fifty feet above the towns to which it brought
relief. With motors shut off, it was possible for Andy to carry on a
conversation with the marooned people and ascertain their needs. Serge
was with Andy and they directed the crew in the relief work.
Through the morning and afternoon they worked and their supply of food
and clothing dwindled at a surprising rate. Two more towns to serve and
they would be through. They dropped food and clothing to the first one
and hurried on to supply the second. After that they would start for
home.
Lieutenant Crummit and another army flyer had stuck with them all day
long, leaving only when it was necessary to fly to some city and
replenish their fuel supply, but one of the army pursuit ships had
always been on duty.
A scene of complete desolation greeted them as they neared the last town
to which they were bringing assistance. Flood waters were pouring
through every street and the inhabitants who had not escaped were
huddled on house tops. More than fifty men, women and children were
congregated on the flat roof of a garage, the largest building in the
town. Out of the northwest a chill wind was presaging a raw, bitter
night and Andy shivered as he thought of the suffering which the little
band on the rooftop would undergo before rescuers could reach them by
boat.
“Why don’t we drop down and take them aboard?” suggested Bert. “With
much more exposure some of those people will have pneumonia.”
“It might be possible,” agreed Andy. “We’ll see Captain Harkins.”
They presented their suggestion to the commander of the Goliath, and,
after a careful survey, Captain Harkins agreed. Orders were given for
the descent of the Goliath and Andy went back midships to supervise the
dropping of a flexible steel ladder. The Goliath could not land directly
on the roof, but would hover just above it. The refugees would have to
climb the ladder to safety.
With a megaphone in his hands, Andy directed the rescue work. The
Goliath, its motors turning over just enough to hold it above the roof,
hung almost motionless. The excited townspeople grasped the ladder,
which four men held fast to the rooftop. The ladder was none too steady
but the refugees, preferring the climb to the airship to another night
on the rooftop, bravely made their way aloft. Women came up alone with
the boys and girls following them. Babes in arms were carried up by the
men. In fifteen minutes the transfer had been completed, the ladder was
drawn up, the command given to proceed and the refugees hurried forward
into the main cabin where it was warm and where the stewards had
prepared a hot meal.
It was a grateful group that came into the control room later to express
their thanks to Captain Harkins, but the commander referred them to
Andy, saying:
“You can thank Andy High, assistant pilot, for he was the one who
directed the rescue.”
They made the run back to Memphis without difficulty but it was well
after dark when they soared over the city. Bert had radioed the story of
the rescue and the news that they would stop at Memphis and leave the
refugees. The airport was aglow with lights and when the Goliath nosed
down for an easy landing, police were taxed to the utmost to keep back
the cheering throng.
Flashlights boomed as newspaper photographers snapped the refugees as
they disembarked. The Red Cross was on hand to care for the unfortunate
townspeople and after ascertaining that the weather was fair, the
Goliath continued its homeward journey.
The next month was a succession of busy days with further tests for the
giant airship. Reports from Harry indicated the daily progress of the
Neptune toward its goal in the Arctic, first to Plymouth, England, on to
Bergen, Norway, then toward the Arctic with the last stop at King’s Bay,
Spitzbergen.
Preparations at Bellevue were now centering on the flight to the Arctic.
Special oils for the motors were arriving as well as equipment and
clothing for the officers and crew. Insulation of the engine rooms and
the gondola was increased to stand the colder temperatures of the
northland. The tentative date for the start of the flight was set for
July 10th and the month of June rolled away as though on magic wheels.
Harry radioed from King’s Bay that the Neptune was about ready to start
the final dash to the pole. On the 20th of June he reported that they
were nosing out of the bay, running on the surface. A few hours later
came the news that the Coast of Spitzbergen was disappearing over the
horizon and that the Neptune was headed north into the land of eternal
ice and snow.
The exchange of mail by the Goliath and Neptune had attracted the
attention of stamp collectors in all parts of the world and extra mail
clerks were brought to Bellevue to handle the hundreds of letters which
had been sent there for mailing aboard the Goliath, which would transfer
the pouches when it met the Neptune at the North Pole. The amount of
mail had been limited to five tons, a total which was reached long
before the date for closing the pouches was reached. A special
cancellation stamp had been devised to show that the letters had been
sent by the Goliath.
With the Neptune definitely slipping through the broken ice of the
Arctic, the importance of Bert’s task of keeping in touch with the
Neptune increased and he almost lived in the radio room of the Goliath.
The days marched by in a steady procession. Daily reports from Harry
indicated that ice conditions were most favorable and that the Neptune
was finding much clear water. Occasionally it was necessary to dive
under some particularly stubborn ice field but this had not happened
often.
Then things changed; high winds prevailed in the northland; progress was
retarded; ice jammed in front of the Neptune; static set up a wall of
interference that was almost impossible to break through; messages from
Harry were few and far between, and lines of worry deepened as Bert and
Andy waited anxiously in the radio room.
On the 28th of June a wave of static turned back every query sent into
the Arctic. On the 29th the same conditions prevailed. When the static
cleared on the 30th of June, Bert called in vain for the Neptune but
there was no answer.