CHAPTER III

THE AIRSHIP

“It’s wonderful, Uncle John! It’s almost beyond belief!” Mavis had walked the whole length of the vessel on the under deck in silence. Her husband’s arm was about her waist, her face was radiant, flushed with excitement. Alan, too, was bereft of words; even his wildest dreams had never imagined a vessel so perfect, so magnificent, so sensitive to touch that two men could manage it with comfort and ease, and should necessity arise, even one man could manipulate the tiny levers and navigate it.

With a torpedo body some nine hundred feet long, its nose narrowed to three feet, giving it a grace unusual in such a monster aircraft. The entire body was composed of an alloy of aluminium, the formula of which was discovered by much hard work and research by Sir John and Masters. An upper and lower deck ran round the entire ship, about six feet wide, which was covered with a fibre, and had bulwarks of aluminium.

At intervals round the deck, hatches were open, leading to the hold, which contained the tank for the reserve propelling spirit, the water-tank, larders and cold storage. Three ladders on each side and one at either end led to the upper deck. The bow of the vessel was covered with a kind of thick glass and formed a comfortable smoking room where one could sit in comfort in wet or windy weather and gaze into space. There was a dining room, a drawing room, and five bedrooms; all most beautifully upholstered and furnished with the maximum of comfort. The inside walls were polished like burnished silver, and the windows of the same thick glass were hung with pale blue silk to match the upholstery. There was everything for use and comfort; telephonic communication from every room to every part of the ship—electric light—electric fans—electric stoves—a pianola and there was even a gramophone on board.

Sir John had also remembered a good library of books, novels and serious works, and a wonderful supply of writing materials.

“Why, you have forgotten nothing,” said Mavis. “Uncle John, I think you have been wonderful.”

Perhaps the kitchens furnished Mavis with most interest. They were so well planned out. In one corner stood an electric cooking stove, and on the wall hung everything necessary for the success of the culinary art. A pipe led from the water tank to the kitchen and there was a very ingenious arrangement by which all waste matter was emptied into an electrically heated tank which reduced everything first to a pulp and then to steam, which escaped through a pipe to the outer side of the ship.

“How much water can we carry?” asked Mavis.

“Well, in cubic feet, my dear—” commenced Sir John.

“No! no! Uncle John! I don’t understand cubic feet. Tell me how long our water would last.”

“With the utmost care we can carry enough water to last six people two months.”

“As long as that?”

“Yes, and then, should any unforeseen circumstances arise, by which we were unable to renew our water supply, I could fall back on a wonderful discovery I have made. See, my dear.” and he opened a small press. There, on shelves, were packed row upon row of transparent blocks, perhaps an inch square.

“What ever is it?” said Mavis, laughing. “Why, it’s camphor!” Alan picked a piece up and examined it. It was certainly like camphor to look at, but was odourless and of an intense coldness. “It’s done me. What is it?”

Sir John made no reply but took from a little stand a small electric heater. Upon this he placed a quart metal bowl, into which he put the little cube. “Very gentle heat at first, my dears,” said he. “Ah!” as it began to melt. “Now I think it’s safe to put on full pressure.”

Fascinated, they watched until the vessel became full of a sparkling, bubbling liquid. Turning on another electric switch, he plunged a metal needle into the fluid. It belched forth a cloud of steam, hissed violently and then calmed down.

“What ever is it?” asked Mavis. For answer, Sir John poured the liquid into three glasses and handed one to each.

“Try it,” he suggested. “It’s quite cold. That was an electric needle which generates a coldness below freezing point.”

“Another invention?” this from Desmond.

“Yes.”

“There’s no smell,” said Mavis, as she delicately wrinkled her pretty nose.

“And no taste,” averred Alan.

“It reminds me of something,” said Desmond. “I’m sure I’ve tasted something like it before.”

“What is it, Uncle John? Do tell us,” pleaded Mavis.

Sir John laughed. “Water, my dear, just plain water. Desmond is quite right, he has tasted it before.”

“Water,” said Alan in bewilderment, “but surely frozen water has a greater bulk than when it is in a liquid form?”

“So it has, my boy. But I call this ‘concentrated essence of water.’ There is enough in that cupboard to last eighteen months. Of course we should never want such a quantity, but the experiments pleased and cheered an old man in his loneliness.”

He then opened another press and showed that it was packed with concentrated tea, concentrated essence of beef and chicken, concentrated essence of milk; it had everything in it that had been devised for reducing food bulk to the minimum with a maximum amount of caloric value.

“Eighteen months’ provisions,” he chuckled. “The Argenta could withstand a siege.” The boat was sailing beautifully, ten thousand feet up; it was a glorious day, cloudless and fine.

“Now for the chef d’œuvre,” said Sir John. “Why, where is Masters? This is his work.” He telephoned through: “All going well?” he asked.

“Splendidly, Sir John.”

“What speed?”

“About three hundred an hour. We’ve just sighted Plymouth.”

“Plymouth,” said Mavis in amazement. “Why, we have only just left Scotland.”

“Come along to us, Masters. I want you to demonstrate the working of the atmospheric shutters.”

“Will you come into the compressed air room?” said Masters as soon as he arrived.

They found it was quite a small room which held no furnishings of any kind. Levers and switches and strange electrical contrivances were everywhere, and on one side of the room were twelve levers, very like those in a signal box on the railways.

“My idea was this,” began Masters. “We have ten engines on board, of which we use only one at a time; the others are reserve stock, as it were, or would be useful if we came up against very nasty weather and needed a stronger power to use against the elements. At the time I worked out my theory, Sir John had no interest in life. You two young gentlemen we believed were dead, and I have neither kith nor kin. It struck us, that one day we might try and reach the outside of the earth’s atmosphere for experimental purposes. I needn’t go into exact figures now, it would not interest Mrs. Forsyth, but you all know after a certain distance up life becomes impossible. Should we ever reach that height, we should have recourse to these levers,” and as he spoke he pulled them down one after the other. “Now we will put the electric light on, and I would be glad if you would step out on to the upper deck.”

Mavis gave a cry of amazement. Gone was the view of the sky; gone the heavens above and the earth beneath. The entire ship was covered in with an awning of metal.

“Do explain,” said Alan.

“This covering works almost on the principle of a Venetian blind,” went on Masters. “There are really two coverings, with a space of thirty inches between. The levers release the metal and it unfolds and clips into position by means of strong clasps. By means of another lever we fill the cavity between with a mixture of gases—ether is the chief component, and this makes our little home absolutely air proof and rain proof; and above all it makes the inner vessel impervious to atmospheric pressure or gravitation. We hope later on, by the aid of an electrical device we are still working upon, to generate an atmosphere of our own, outside the vessel, which will enable us to propel ourselves through infinite space, and thus we should be independent of the atmospheric peculiarities around us.”

“But how can we breathe?” asked Mavis the practical.

“Masters thought of that contingency also,” said Sir John.

“In the little room we have just left are dynamos for generating our own electricity; there is also another dynamo for generating an inexhaustible supply of air.”

“You have left nothing to chance,” said Alan.

“Nothing, my boy. Remember this is the culmination of over thirty-five years of study and experiment, and the last five years have seen us progress by leaps and bounds.”

“Our absence had its good side, after all,” said Alan. “Had we been allowed to remain, you might never have got this machine to such perfection.”

“I’d rather not have had those years of sorrow, all the same,” said Sir John softly. “I’d rather have destroyed the Argenta with my own hands, and never built her up again, than you should both have left me for those long years,” and the old man turned away with a sigh. “Now about our air supply,” he went on, recovering himself. “As the used up air sinks to the ground, it is attracted into pipes, and by the aid of tiny electric fans is driven to a large cylinder. There it undergoes a kind of filtering process. The purer portions go into circulation again, while the carbonic acid gas is taken down pipes which run along the whole side of the ship to an outlet where it can escape into space. To guard against the extrance of any unknown noxious gases, this pipe has a trap in every foot, which closes mechanically as the gas passes through. The mechanism of these traps makes it impossible for any foreign air to enter. No matter where we are, or through what poisonous air we may pass, we are protected from its entrance by this device; while it is impossible for the ship to collapse while it is protected by its envelope of ether.”

“Then you could live as long as your provisions lasted on the Argenta?” asked Desmond. “You are not dependent on the outer world for anything?”

“We are dependent only on ourselves,” replied Sir John.

“Why, it’s like a fairy tale,” said Mavis.

“Tea,” said a voice from behind them. “Tea, Mrs. Forsyth.” It was Hector. Masters had unobtrusively left while they were all talking, and Hector had turned cook.

“Tea is served in the Bows,” said Hector again.

Masters had drawn back the shutters, and once again the little room was flooded with sunshine. The telephone bell tinkled. “Well, Masters?”

“We are passing over Whitby, sir. Do you wish to cut across country direct for Dalmyrnie, or will you go right round by the coast?”

“Time is getting on. I think we had better make straight for home.”

“Very good, sir.”

“It’s been a wonderful success,” said Alan. “More wonderful than I could have dreamed possible.” Sir John beamed at the praise. “But, Uncle John, leave your atmospheric experiments until I come back from Kalvar. I’d love to accompany you on your adventures.”

“Would you really?”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”

“Look,” said Mavis presently. “We are over Loch Tay. How beautiful it looks from here. Why there is still a suspicion of snow on Ben Lawers.”

“We are very near home, now,” said Desmond, looking at her fondly.

Within a very few minutes the great vessel tilted ever so slightly, and then with a graceful movement, slanted her nose to earth. There was only the faintest suspicion of a jolt as she touched the ground, and then ran smoothly along the field, coming to a standstill at almost the very spot she had left a few hours before.

The trial was over! The machine had proved her worth.

Science had won yet another brilliant victory.