CHAPTER IV--THE DEPARTURE
"Will next Monday suit you fellows to take on officially?" enquiredFosterdyke, as the chums prepared to depart. "I want a trial flight onthat day, and if it proves satisfactory, I'll make a formal entry atonce. M. Chauvasse stipulates that all entries must reach him inwriting by noon on the thirtieth. That leaves us with only eight daysclear."
"Monday it is, sir," replied Kenyon, promptly. "We'll have everythingfixed up as far as our private business is concerned before then. Infact, we could arrange to join earlier--couldn't we, Peter?"
Peter Bramsdean signified his agreement.
"Hardly necessary," observed Fosterdyke. "But if anything unforeseentranspires before then I'll wire you."
During the next few days there was much to be done in "squaring up" themotor transport work. Notices were issued stating that the principals,Messrs. Kenyon and Bramsdean, would be away for six weeks, during whichtime all orders could be safely entrusted to their works manager. Eventhat individual had no inkling of the nature of his employers'forthcoming absence. The secret, jealously guarded, had not yet leakedout.
On the other hand, the Press published a report of M. Chauvasse's offerand stated that three entries other than British had been received. Thelack of enterprise on the part of British airmen was commented upon andan appeal issued to sportsmen to make an effort to prevent yet anotherrecord passing into the hands of foreigners.
On the day following this journalistic jeremiad came the report that aBritish airship of unique design was approaching completion at a privateaerodrome near Blandford, and that the Air Ministry had giveninstructions for all facilities to be afforded to its crew in theirattempt to circumnavigate the globe within a space of twenty days.Details, both erroneous and exaggerated, were given of the mysteriousairship, together with plans that were as unlike those of the "GoldenHind" as those of a modern dreadnought would be compared with those ofDrake's famous ship.
"That will rattle the Old Man," declared Kenyon, when he read theannouncement.
It did. Fosterdyke sent a wire asking his two assistants to join him atonce. That was on the Friday morning. At 2.30 P.M.--or in Air Forcephraseology 14.30--Kenyon and Bramsdean arrived at Air Grange, to find avast concourse of would-be spectators congregated round the gates,backing up the efforts of a knot of persistent Pressmen who cajoled,bluffed, and argued--all in vain--with the imperturbable Hayward andfour hefty satellites.
The grassy slopes outside the formidable fence resembled Epsom Downs onDerby Day. Momentarily motor-cars were arriving, while at frequentintervals heavily laden char-a-bancs rumbled up and discharged theirhuman cargo. Motor-bicycles, push-bikes, traps and carts added to thecongestion. Thousands of people arrived on foot--from where goodnessonly knows! Hawkers and itinerant purveyors displayed their wares;photographers, both amateur and professional, elbowed their way towardsthe forbidden ground; while three brass bands and at least a dozenindividual musicians added to the din. On the outskirts temporaryplatforms had been erected, while hirers of telescopes, field and operaglasses did a roaring trade, people willingly paying to gaze at theimpenetrable barrier of fir-trees in the vain hope of catching a glimpseof the mysterious airship.
It took Kenyon and Bramsdean the best part of an hour to literally forcetheir way through the throng. By dint of shouting "Gangway, please,"they continued to make a certain amount of progress until their arrival,coupled with the ex-sergeant's efforts to make the crowd stand aside,attracted the attention of the representatives of the Press.
For five minutes the latter bombarded the chums with questions, gettinginconsequent replies that put the reporters on their mettle.
"If we aren't allowed in, we'll take jolly good care you won't be,"shouted one of the Press representatives, evidently mistaking Peter andKenneth for favoured spectators.
There was a rush towards the gates. The half a dozen policemenassisting Hayward and his men were almost swept off their feet. Thingslooked serious. If Kenyon and his companion succeeded in getting pastthe gate it would only be in the midst of an excited mob.
Just then Sir Reginald Fosterdyke appeared. Some of the localinhabitants recognised him, and the report of his identity quicklyspread. So when he raised his hand to enjoin silence the crowd surgingaround the gate ceased its clamour.
"By preventing my navigating officers you only defer your own ends," heexclaimed in ringing tones. "The airship is not yet ready for flight,nor is she open to inspection. A trial flight has been fixed for Mondaynext. On that day the aerodrome will be thrown open to publicinspection. And," he added, with a disarming smile, "there will be nocharge for admission."
Almost instantly the demeanour of the crowd changed. There were callsfor cheers for Sir Reginald Fosterdyke. Someone started singing: "Forhe's a jolly good fellow."
The baronet turned and hurried away precipitately. Publicity he hated.Kenneth and Peter, taking advantage of this diversion, slipped insidethe barrier and found Fosterdyke awaiting them beyond the bend of thecarriage drive.
"Good old British public," he exclaimed. "By Jove! They put the wind upme. I thought that they would be swarming like locusts over the 'GoldenHind.' We'll have to circumvent them. Only last night some of the crewfound a fellow prowling round the shed. Goodness only knows what for.He pitched some sort of yarn, and since we aren't under the Defence ofthe Realm Act I couldn't detain him. But this crowd scares me. We'llget out to-night, even if we have to drift, and they can have the run ofthe place on Monday, as I promised. But I said nothing about theairship being here or otherwise. Where's your kit?"
"Somewhere between here and Blandford railway station," replied Peter."We saw we'd have our work cut out to force our way through, so we toldthe taxi-driver to take it back to the station. It isn't the first timewe've parted with our kit, eh, Kenneth?"
"I'll send for it when the crowd thins," decided Sir Reginald. "Now Isuppose you're wondering why I telegraphed for you?"
"The swarm outside offers a solution," said Kenyon.
"To a certain extent, yes," agreed Fosterdyke. "Apart from that,there's a reliable report that Captain Theodore Nye, of the UnitedStates Army, is starting from Tampa, Florida, to-morrow in one of thelarge airships of the 'R' type that the Air Ministry sold to Americarecently. That forces our hand. We'll have to be at thestarting-point--1100 miles away--by to-morrow mid-day, so as toreplenish petrol and commence the competition flight before midnight."
"And how about the Boche, sir?"
"Count Karl von Sinzig? Not a word. He's apparently out of it. Noteven one of the 'also rans.' Our formidable rivals are the Yankee and aJap--a Count Hyashi--who will reach his Nadir somewhere in Uruguay. Let'em all come--the more the merrier."
All hands, including the workmen and mechanics who were notparticipating in the voyage, assembled in the large dining-hall for animpromptu farewell dinner, and to them the baronet broached the subjectof the hurried departure of the "Golden Hind."
The meal over, the task of getting the huge airship out of her shedbegan. Even though the wind was light the work was by no means simple.Incautious handling or a sudden change in the direction of the aircurrents might easily result in disaster. The operation had to becarried out after sunset and with the minimum of artificial light,since, for the present, the "Golden Hind's" departure was to be keptsecret.
With her ballonets charged sufficiently to give her a slight lift, theairship rose until the base of the fuselage was a bare three feet fromthe ground. The crew were at their stations, Kenyon assistingFosterdyke in the wheelhouse, while right aft Peter Bramsdean directedthe movements of the "ground-men" holding the stern, securing, andtrailing ropes.
Inch by inch, foot by foot, the leviathan of the air emerged from theshed until her entire length, straining gently at the rope that tetheredher to mother earth, lay exposed to the starlit sky.
"All clear, sir!" reported Bramsdean through a speaking-tube.
Curt but precise orders rang
out from the navigation-room. The slighthiss of the brodium being released from the metal cylinders was barelyaudible above the sighing of the wind in the pine-tops until the gaugesregistering the "lift" of the airship indicated thirty-eight tons.
Armed with a megaphone, Fosterdyke leant out of the window of thenavigation-room.
"All ready? ... Let go!"
Simultaneously the twenty men holding the airship released their hold.That was where training and discipline told, for terrible to contemplatewould have been the fate of an unwary "ground-man" had he retained hisgrip on the rope. But without an accident to mar the momentous event,the "Golden Hind" shot almost vertically into the air, attaining in avery short space of time an altitude of six thousand feet.
Not a cheer rang out to speed the departing competitor for thestupendous contest. Unheard and unseen save by the loyal band of helpersat the aerodrome, Sir Reginald Fosterdyke's airship was on her way tothe starting-point of her voyage round the globe.