Dave Dashaway
and His Giant Airship
Or
A Marvellous Trip Across the Atlantic
BY
ROY ROCKWOOD
AUTHOR OF “DAVE DASHAWAY THE YOUNG AVIATOR,” “THE
SPEEDWELL BOYS SERIES,” “THE GREAT
MARVEL SERIES,” ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOKS FOR BOYS
BY ROY ROCKWOOD
THE DAVE DASHAWAY SERIES
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
DAVE DASHAWAY THE YOUNG AVIATOR
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS HYDROPLANE
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS GIANT AIRSHIP
DAVE DASHAWAY AROUND THE WORLD
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS SERIES
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS ON MOTORCYCLES
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR RACING AUTO
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR POWER LAUNCH
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS IN A SUBMARINE
THE GREAT MARVEL SERIES
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
THROUGH THE AIR TO THE NORTH POLE
UNDER THE OCEAN TO THE SOUTH POLE
FIVE THOUSAND MILES UNDERGROUND
THROUGH SPACE TO MARS
LOST ON THE MOON
IN A TORN-AWAY WORLD
CUPPLES & LEON CO. PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
-------------------------------------------
Copyrighted 1913, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
--------------
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS GIANT AIRSHIP
Printed in U. S. A.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE GIANT AIRSHIP 1
II. “FOR MOTHER’S SAKE” 11
III. A NARROW ESCAPE 21
IV. IN BAD COMPANY 36
V. “THE RIGHT KIND” 44
VI. A MYSTERIOUS FLASH 53
VII. AT THE AERODROME 62
VIII. THE RIVAL AIRSHIP 69
IX. IN THE LEAD 76
X. THE HAUNTED AERODROME 84
XI. A GRAND SUCCESS 91
XII. ADRIFT IN THE STORM 103
XIII. A FIRST LANDING 110
XIV. LOST 123
XV. “THE TERRIBLE MACGUFFINS” 129
XVI. IN FRIENDLY HANDS 137
XVII. A TRUSTY GUIDE 144
XVIII. IN A BAD FIX 149
XIX. A MYSTERIOUS FRIEND 154
XX. THE STOWAWAY 160
XXI. THE HAUNTED AIRSHIP 166
XXII. FIRE AT SEA 176
XXIII. THE FORLORN HOPE 187
XXIV. GOAL! 192
XXV. CONCLUSION 199
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DAVE DASHAWAY
AND HIS GIANT AIRSHIP
CHAPTER I
THE GIANT AIRSHIP
“Is that your airship?”
“Not exactly, but I am in charge of it.”
“The _Gossamer_, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Belongs to the Interstate Aero Company?”
“You’re pretty well posted, I see.”
“Ought to be. I’m close to the Interstate people, so I’d like to look
the machine over. In fact, if you’ve got an expert aviator on hand, I
think I’ll take a little flight.”
John Grimshaw, ex-balloonist and battered-up aeronaut, regarded the
foppishly dressed young man before him quizzically.
“Oh, you do, eh?” he observed, very dryly. “Well, it won’t be on this
occasion. As to an expert aviator, we’ve got Dave Dashaway.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of him.”
“Most everybody has, I reckon. He’s here on business though, and that
sign is for outsiders, yourself included.”
Old Grimshaw pointed to a sign on the big gates of the high board
enclosure outside of which he stood on guard. It read: “No Admittance.”
The visitor had come strolling from the direction of some summer
cottages near a pretty lake close by. Grimshaw surmised that he was one
of the smart set spending an outing there.
“Humph!” observed the young man, with a shrug of his shoulders and a
scowl. “Pretty independent, aren’t you? I think you’ll change your tune
shortly.”
“Is that so?”
“I fancy. I’ll bring somebody with me who will do what he chooses with
your precious old airship, and send you about your business, if he feels
like it.”
The young man turned on his heel, mad as a hornet, as he spoke. Just
then the gate was pushed open, and a bright-faced, athletic young fellow
stepped into view.
“What’s the trouble, Mr. Grimshaw?” he asked, pleasantly.
“Another of those pestiferous nuisances, who want to pry into other
people’s business, and think they own the world,” grumbled the veteran
aeronaut.
“What did he want?”
John Grimshaw told his story.
“Oh, you might have gratified his curiosity and let him look around a
little.”
“See here, Dave Dashaway,” bristled up Grimshaw, “you’ve seen in the
past what taking in a stranger led to. You’re here for a special
purpose, and no Jerry Dawson, or fellows of that stripe, are going to
get a chance to trick us again.”
“That’s so, Mr. Grimshaw, we can’t be too careful, I will admit,” agreed
the young aviator.
He was a rather unassuming young fellow for a person of his merits and
record, was this active lad who inside of three months had made his way
from humble circumstances to the very front rank of American airmen.
Dave Dashaway looked back over the past twelve weeks of his young career
with pride, pleasure and satisfaction. There were dark spots, of course.
The Jerry Dawson old Grimshaw had mentioned was one of them. Envious
rivals there had been, too. Danger, scheming, cunning had more than once
threatened.
That bright, breezy afternoon, however, the accredited pilot of the
latest monoplane on exhibition, Dave Dashaway felt like a general who
had won a hard-fought battle and was resting on his laurels.
Those who have read the first volume of the present series, entitled,
“Dave Dashaway, the Young Aviator; Or, In the Clouds for Fame and
Fortune,” will recall how humble and difficult was the start in life
made by the bright young aeronaut. The father of Dave had been a noted
balloonist. Dave was of tender age when he died. For years the boy was
made a drudge by a miserly old guardian. The finding of a prize medal
and other valuables accidentally lost from an airship, sent Dave on his
travels seeking their owner, Robert King, a noted airman, who gave Dave
a job.
It seemed as though air sailing was born in Dave. He took to aviation
like a duck does to water. The youth did several helpful things at the
various aero meets for Mr. King that won his confidence and friendship.
Dave studied all the books he could get hold of on airships, and
Grimshaw, a crippled and retired balloonist, took him into his school.
From the initial run made on a dummy aeroplane along the ground, to his
first aerial flight in a monoplane with Mr. King, Dave showed
intelligence, skill and ambition. Then came his first brilliant flight
in the _Baby Racer_, a show biplane. So well did the young aviator
manage the _Racer_, that its owner, the Interstate Aero Company, made a
contract with him for regular exhibitions.
Dave did not disappoint his liberal employers in his efforts. He won
several prizes, gave a big lift to a chum, Hiram Dobbs, in the aero
field, and made old Grimshaw proud of so apt a pupil.
In the second volume of the present series, called, “Dave Dashaway and
His Hydroplane; Or, Daring Adventures Over the Great Lakes,” is told how
Dave advanced another important step up the ladder of fame and fortune.
The company employing him started him at exhibiting their model
hydroplane. This was a new venture for Dave, but he industriously
mastered its details and made a great hit at an aero meet near Chicago.
All along the line Dave had been forced to oppose the envy and malice of
unprincipled business rivals. By thinking straight and acting straight,
however, he had won out on every occasion, as an honest, deserving lad
always does. He and his young protege, Hiram Dobbs, by making a hundred
mile record flight one dark and stormy night, got a big order for the
Interstate Aero Company ahead of a competitor. Then Jerry Dawson, his
father and a smuggler stole the hydro-monoplane, _Drifter_, and located
across the Canadian border. Dave and his friends began a wonderful chase
in another machine. They had some stirring adventures, ending in the
discovery of the _Drifter_.
That incident shut out the Dawsons from later aero meets, but, as they
had not been prosecuted, they became hangers-on at circus and county
fair exhibitions. Dave heard of them once in awhile, but they seemed
unlikely to injure him any farther.
Dave and Hiram were finely rewarded by the Interstate people for their
success. The company wanted Dave to make a two-year contract to exhibit
their machines. Dave, however, was obliged to decline the offer.
There was a strong reason for this—a reason that was enough to set on
fire the enthusiasm of any live, up-to-date boy.
As related in the preceding volume, Dave had discovered an old friend of
his dead father, one Cyrus Dale. This gentleman was wealthy, had no
family, and had been a fellow balloonist of Mr. Dashaway, years before.
A boy who had stolen some papers from Dave had succeeded in palming
himself off on Mr. Dale as Dave Dashaway.
Mr. King had unmasked the imposter. The latter, with some friends, had
then kidnapped Mr. Dale. The veteran aviator, Robert King, had rescued
Mr. Dale from their clutches. The gratitude of the latter for this act,
together with his warm interest in Dave, had led to the three coming
together in a most friendly way. It was this ideal situation which had
resulted in the carrying out of a long-cherished plan of Mr. King.
This was nothing less than a scheme for crossing the Atlantic in a giant
airship. It had been the pet idea of the skilled aviator for years—the
hope and dream of every ambitious airman in the world.
Of all men in the field, Mr. King had the ability to direct such a
project. Mr. Dale was not only willing but ready to supply the capital.
As to Dave and Hiram, they talked constantly of the enterprise daytimes
and dreamed of it nights.
The plan of the veteran aviator, however, was one that involved time,
skill and expense. His plans for building the great airship were very
elaborate. A month had now gone by, and only the skeleton of the mammoth
air traveler had so far been constructed.
A temporary aerodrome had been constructed on the edge of a large city
about twenty-five miles from Lake Linden, where we find the young
aviator at the opening of the present story. There Mr. King, Mr. Dale
and some skilled workmen were energetically pushing forward their work.
If their plans did not go awry, before the end of August the giant
airship would start out on the strangest, grandest trip ever attempted
in the field of aeronautics.
In the meantime the Interstate Aero Company had prevailed on Dave to
give them a month’s special service. This comprised the exhibition of
their latest hydro-monoplane, the _Gossamer_, at Lake Linden. The
district was one visited every summer by men of wealth from New York,
Boston and other large cities. The Interstate people had secured what
had once been a small private park. Here Dave, Hiram and Mr. Grimshaw
had been located for over a week.
The object of their exhibitions was to influence a sale of the
Interstate machines among the rich men visiting Lake Linden. Many of
them were aero enthusiasts. Besides that, the proprietors of the resort
paid the company quite a large fee for making occasional flights as an
attraction to popularize the lake.
Dave glanced after the man who had just had the verbal tussle with Mr.
Grimshaw. He did not like his trivial looks any more than the old
balloonist had. They had many curious visitors at the enclosure,
however, and Dave forgot the strange brag of the latest one, as he
looked down the road in the direction of the town of Linden.
“It’s strange Hiram doesn’t get back with the carryall,” remarked the
young aviator.
“Yes, I heard the train come in half an hour ago,” replied Grimshaw.
“Expecting quite a crowd, aren’t you, Dashaway?”
“Why, yes, according to the message the Interstate people sent me,” said
Dave. “It seems there is a special party of foreign airmen our New York
salesman has interested. Some of them have come over to take a try at
the meets in the Southern circuit, and want to buy machines.”
“They’ll find ours the best,” asserted Grimshaw.
“I think that, too,” agreed Dave. “That’s why I’ve got everything spick
and span inside there. The _Gossamer_ looks as if she was just waiting
to float like an eagle at the word.”
“She’s a beauty, and no mistake,” declared Grimshaw, and like some
ardent horseman gazing at a fond pet, he pushed open the gate, and fixed
his eyes on the hydro-aeroplane in the middle of the enclosure. “She’s
the last word in airships,” boasted the old enthusiast. “That trial
flight of yours yesterday, Dashaway, was the prettiest piece of air work
I ever saw.”
Intimate as the young aviator was with the _Gossamer_ and every detail
of her delicate mechanism, he could not resist the fascination of
looking over the most beautiful model in the airship field.
The _Gossamer_ had proven a revelation, even to skilled airmen. It had
been constructed in strict secrecy. The public had known nothing as to
the details of the craft until it was taken out on Lake Linden to test
its balance and speed.
It was equipped to carry four passengers, was driven by a forty
horse-power motor, and made the tremendous speed of fifty miles an hour
in the water and sixty miles an hour in the air. With its two propellers
driven by clutch and chain transmission, and its new automatic starter
and fuel gauge, it was a marvel of beauty and utility, as readily sent
up from the confined deck of a warship as from the broadest aero field.
“She’s a bird, sure enough,” declared old Grimshaw, admiringly.
“Wasn’t she sort of built for a bird?” challenged Dave, with a smile.
“That’s so. Ah, I hear the wagon. Hiram is coming.”
The two went outside the enclosure, and the man looked keenly down the
road in the direction of the village.
“Why Dashaway,” he exclaimed, “it’s Hiram, but he isn’t bringing the
party you expected.”
“That’s queer,” commented the young aviator.
“He’s all alone—oh, no, he isn’t. He’s got one passenger aboard—a girl.”
“A girl?” repeated Dave, staring somewhat mystified at the approaching
vehicle.
“Yes.”
“That’s queerer still,” remarked the young aviator.