by Karen Garvin
“We can deal with a few clouds,” said Davies. “After all, we won’t be putting in to port during the race if we happen across bad weather, now will we?”
There was a general murmur of assent, and then the captain delivered a short, rousing speech, looking around the control room and taking the measure of each man, holding each one’s eyes for a moment and instilling a sense of confidence that grew palpably stronger by the minute. When he was done speaking the crew cheered heartily before going off to their duty stations to prepare the Nares for the start of the race. Samuel passed Edward on his way out of the room and nodded curtly, intent on a task of his own.
With nearly four hours until the start time and very little to do, Edward found the tension unbearable. He was not used to being an observer. He was used to doing things.
Noon came and went, and promptly at one o’clock the race officials fired their signal cannon. Its boom could be heard echoing off the hills in the countryside. It was a lonely sound.
And then the mooring ropes were cast off and the race was on!
* * *
The Nares glided along smoothly, the only sound a barely audible thump-thump of her engines. As the ship gained altitude, they were the first to emerge above the somber clouds into a sparkling blue sky.
The Bernardino was the next vessel to emerge from the cloudbank, quickly followed by the French entry, the Lafayette, still decked out in her tricolor bunting, which trailed below the ship like the tail of a kite. Then the other six airships came into view, spreading across the sky like a formation of giant albino bumblebees. Edward thought that the airships looked ridiculous, but he knew that the Nares was Meade’s pride and joy, so he kept his opinion to himself.
They quickly passed over the coast and headed southwest over the English Channel. Edward could see whitecaps on the waves and as he watched, people streamed out of buildings along the shore to wave as the airships passed overhead. They were too high for the people’s cheers to reach them, and watching them move in silence was like being enmeshed in a sort of dream. Edward pressed his face against the control-room window, hypnotized by the ebb and flow of the water against the rapidly receding beach.
“Mr. Grey!” Meade’s voice was sharp.
Edward jumped and bit back a rude exclamation. He realized that Meade had been addressing him for some time, but he hadn’t heard a word that the professor had said. “Er, I’m sorry, professor. I wasn’t listening.”
A smile twitched at Meade’s lip. “You like the view?”
“Yes. Amazing.” Edward mentally shook himself. Meade hadn’t invited him along on the trip to look out the window all day.
“I have some things for you to do, Mr. Gray.”
Edward took the sheet of paper that Meade held out. It was a task list, mostly concerned with making sure that the men handling the Hekatite didn’t use too much of the fuel at a time.
“I’m no engineer,” protested Edward. “I already told you that.”
“You did indeed. However, you understand enough to make sure that these fellows don’t waste the fuel. Keep an eye on the inventory and make sure they follow the instructions carefully so we don’t run out of Hekatite. There are collier ships posted along our route, so if we must resort to taking on coal, we won’t be out of the race. But I do not want to have to change fuels unless there is absolutely no other choice.” Meade took a deep breath and surveyed the room. “We will prove the value of the Hekatite, one way or the other.” He nodded to Edward and moved away, dismissing him.
Edward headed for engineering. His first task, after introducing himself to the crew men, would be to make sure they understood that he would be the one giving orders. He hoped that Meade would back him up on anything that he told the men.
* * *
Five days out from England, one of the ships started losing altitude. Meade pressed a pair of binoculars to his eyes and scanned the horizon. “It’s the Belgian entry, the Astrid.”
Edward strained to see the disabled airship, which at this distance was a mere smudge against the horizon. “Is it going down?”
“Yes, but slowly. They’ll have life boats aboard, of course, and I think the chase vessels will pick up the crew before long. No need to worry.” Meade turned away from the window and went back to monitoring the navigation charts.
Samuel came into the control room to deliver a telegram to Meade and then joined his uncle by the window. “One down,” he said in a low voice.
Edward looked askance at his nephew, assessing the young man’s mood. “Is it my imagination, or are you taking a certain amount of joy in that?”
Samuel shook his head. “No, of course not. I want to win the race, but not because everyone else drops out. But I didn’t think we’d lose a competitor so fast.”
“What happened to it?” asked Edward. “You’re the radio operator, can’t you get news from the other ships on that equipment?”
Samuel nodded. “Yes, we’ve been monitoring each other’s status. Apparently the stitching on one of the gas bags split. It’s not something they can repair at sea, and now they don’t have enough helium to remain buoyant.”
“Isn’t the whole thing a gas bag?”
“No, there’s the big outer bag, called the envelope, and inside of that are the living areas and three smaller bags called ballonets. Those are what hold the helium. The Belgian ship has lost gas in one ballonet, so a third of its lifting power is gone. They can’t continue on that.”
Edward looked out at the Astrid, which had sunk farther toward the ocean. The airship showed no indication that it was in trouble, and he tried not to think about what it would be like to be stranded in a small room like this one in the middle of the sea, with no rescue ship in sight.
* * *
After the initial excitement of the race, lethargy began to creep in as the crew became bored. The unending waterscape below offered little in the way of distraction, and the ship was too small for the men to have room for exercise. Despite Meade’s attempts at rousing their spirits, they went about their tasks with little enthusiasm.
One day, Meade approached Edward and asked if he would play the role of King Neptune in a line-crossing ceremony for the men. Edward was on the verge of turning down the offer until Samuel intervened and convinced him that it would improve morale and make the men more amenable to doing things for him.
Grumbling all the while, Edward allowed Samuel to adorn him with a clean mop head for a wig, over which he placed a cut-paper crown. Then Samuel wound a length of rope around Edward’s shoulders before escorting him to the control room, where the entire crew of twenty men stood waiting for his arrival. They honored him with short bows, trying not to laugh too hard at the portly king and his makeshift costume.
Meade gave a short speech about crossing the Equator, and at ten seconds out Meade began a countdown. The men chimed in.
“Three – two – one!” A chorus of shouts and whistles greeted the equatorial crossing, which was unremarkable except for the sudden noise.
Edward moved to take his “throne,” a chair that had been covered with a blanket to make it look plush, and tried to look regal. But he stepped on the end of the dangling rope and tripped. Samuel burst out laughing and Edward swatted him with his mock trident. The men howled with laughter and thumped each other on the back as Edward sat down with a flourish and adjusted his wig.
“I’m sorry there is no rum,” said Meade. “As you know we don’t have room for many provisions.” Hoots greeted this announcement, along with sly glances in hope that someone may have smuggled a few private flasks onboard. But if anyone had, they weren’t in the mood for sharing.
The party lasted the entire afternoon. Edward left halfway through and got rid of his costume and headed to engineering. Since he was the only one in the storeroom, Edward decided it was a good time to take an inventory. He counted the unopened boxes, but when he shifted an open box, it slid off the stack and slammed, knocking him against the wall. Edwar
d slipped to the floor and the contents of the crate fell out.
Hastily, Edward righted himself. The refined fuel had been pressed into bricks so it would be easier to handle, but Edward knew that the toxicity of the material was unaffected. He did a quick search for gloves, but finding none, he picked up the bricks of Hekatite with his bare hands. Almost immediately he felt a burning sensation in his hands. Edward tried to ignore the pain, pushing himself to hurry and get the fuel back into its crate.
Then a white-hot jolt of pain seared his arm. He screamed.
* * *
“Uncle Edward!”
Edward blinked his eyes open. Samuel was leaning over him, and he looked frightened.
“What is it?” Edward’s voice came out in a croak.
“You’re in the infirmary. You touched the Hekatite, didn’t you?”
“Had to,” mumbled Edward. “It fell out.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” admonished Samuel.
But his tone of voice was gentle. Too gentle. Edward wondered if that meant he was going to die, but he didn’t want to ask. Some things were better left unsaid.
“How long have I been here?” Edward struggled to sit up, and when he pushed the blanket away he saw that his arms were swathed in linen wraps.
Samuel glanced at the bandages. “Your arms were coated with the nodules and the doctor put salve on them.”
“They’ll go away on their own.” Edward tugged at one of the bandages until it unwound. Samuel tried to stop him, but Edward pushed his hands away and unraveled the cloth. His arm was clear, and he showed it to his nephew. “See?”
“You’re still sick, Uncle.”
“Bah!” Edward unwrapped his other arm. There was no trace of the nodules or even a rash.
At that moment someone knocked on the door. Samuel opened the door a crack and then swung it wide. The doctor came in, closely followed by Meade.
“Good morning, Mr. Gray. I’m glad to see that you are up,” said Meade. “I need your help.”
“Wait just a moment!” said the doctor. “I haven’t given my patient permission to leave the infirmary!”
“I’m fine,” said Edward, sliding out of bed. “Where the hell are my clothes? Samuel?”
Samuel grudgingly handed Edward a stack of clothes that had been neatly folded and placed on a lower shelf of a small table next to the infirmary bunk.
“We’re having an issue with the Hekatite,” said Meade. “It’s not burning cleanly and it gummed up the engine. The engineer was overcome by gas before we could evacuate it from the engine room. I need you to fix the problem.”
“I’m not giving him permission to get up!” said the doctor.
“I’m not an engineer,” protested Edward, pulling on his socks.
“Are you even listening to me? I have not given you permission to leave the infirmary!” The doctor glowered at Edward, but Edward waved him away. The doctor turned on Meade and they had a hushed argument, after which the doctor stormed out of the cabin.
Meade turned back to Edward. “You are the only one who is familiar with the Hekatite besides the engineer. I need you to take a look at the fuel.”
“But Professor,” said Samuel. “My uncle should rest. He’s been poisoned…”
“You, too?” growled Meade. “I am well aware of your uncle’s condition. I wouldn’t ask this if it wasn’t necessary, but the gas being given off by the Hekatite is a danger to everyone on this airship. I need his help, and I need it now. We can’t afford a delay.”
Samuel pressed his lips together and looked at the floor. Edward could see him swallow convulsively and knew that his nephew had taken the reprimand to heart.
“I’ll go,” said Edward. “I don’t know what I can do about the engine, but I’ll take a look at it.”
“I’d like to go with him, if I may?” asked Samuel.
“Yes, I think under the circumstances that would be wise.” Meade turned toward the door. “I’ll be in the control room. Let me know what you find out as soon as possible.”
Edward finished dressing and they left the infirmary. He glanced up at Samuel as they walked the short distance to engineering. “Not sure the old man is up to the task, eh?”
“Uncle, you’ve been sick. The doctor was right to expect you to take it easy for a few days.”
“I am taking it easy, Samuel. This isn’t exactly what I’d call hard work.” Edward stepped into the cramped engineering room, which ran the width of the gondola. The windows on both sides had been opened to allow for a cross-breeze, but a haze of purplish smoke remained, wispy curlicues trailing along the ceiling. Two crewmen with handkerchiefs wrapped around their faces were fanning the smoke toward the windows.
Edward sidled past Samuel to reach the instrument console. He’d seen enough during the trip to understand fuel pressure and air pressure. The ship was losing power. Without engines, the Nares would be blown off-course. The collier ship was at least a day behind them and it would require another day to offload the Hekatite and replace it with coal. They could not afford to lose two or three days in the race.
Edward beckoned to a crewman. “Show me what’s happened to the engines.”
The engineer’s mate led him up a ladder to the catwalk that ran the length of the airship. They headed aft, where the engines were located. Drive shafts exited the canvas sheathing of the outer envelope and connected to the twin propellers that drove the Nares.
The man opened the cover on the starboard engine. The Hekatite had oozed out and coated the metal. Swearing to himself, Edward asked for a rag and pulled a lump of the coagulated goo off of the engine. It was dry and brittle and it crumbled at his touch.
“Do you have any tools?”
The crewman fetched a canvas tool bag and placed it at Edward’s feet.
He’s not much help, thought Edward, wondering how the man had managed to secure a berth on the airship. My cat knows more about engines.
Edward cleaned the dried Hekatite off the cowling until he could see metal. A gasket had ripped and a blob of wet fuel was oozing from the tear. “Here’s the problem,” said Edward. “Take this apart and replace the gasket. You know how to do that, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Edward examined the other engine, but it was clean, so he left the mate to get the repairs done and returned to engineering. He climbed down the ladder slowly, his legs feeling as though they would give out under him.
“Well?” prompted Samuel.
“A torn gasket,” said Edward. “The engineer’s mate can fix it.”
“Are you sure he can handle the Hekatite alone?”
Edward snorted. “He’s not an infant. I’m going to go to my cabin and get some rest. Will you tell the professor what I’ve found?”
“Yes, of course. Uncle...”
Edward waved his hand to cut off Samuel’s protest. “I’m just tired.”
When he reached the cabin, Edward sat down heavily on his bunk. His head was pounding and he felt nauseated. He took off his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves. The rash had returned, but this time it was far worse. It seemed as though each time he came into contact with the Hekatite the rash intensified. With shaking hands, Edward tugged down his sleeves. He couldn’t tell anyone about this.
* * *
While the Nares was undergoing repairs the other airships had overtaken her, but with the engines restored to full power she gained ground until they were within sighting distance of the race leaders. Only the Lafayette and the Italian entry, the Garibaldi, were still ahead. For an entire week the airships held their relative positions, but slowly, slowly, the Nares closed the gap with the Lafayette until she was alongside the French ship.
Meade barely moved from the control room and would stand for hours at a time watching the other airships through his binoculars. Samuel’s energy levels rose as they crept past the Lafayette, but Edward felt increasingly lethargic until he could barely get out of bed. But he pushed himself to act norma
lly, fearful of what impact his illness might have on Samuel, and also because he didn’t want to spend the rest of the voyage in his cabin or the infirmary.
Another three days and the Nares overtook the Garibaldi. The crew cheered and waved at the Italians as they pulled ahead. Now only the open sky lay before them, while the other airships receded into smaller and smaller dots on the horizon.
The days dragged. Now that the other ships had fallen behind there was little to see except the sky and the gray ocean. Edward lost interest, and, as the pain in his hands and arms became unbearable, he told everyone that he had a headache and holed up in his cabin for three days, refusing to answer the door even when Samuel threatened to kick the door off its hinges. When the rash faded again and the throbbing in his head subsided, Edward went back to work.
Samuel cornered him immediately, asking about his health until Edward lost his temper and began shouting. The two crewmen in engineering drifted surreptitiously out into the corridor to give them space.
“I’m fine, Samuel. I had one of those bad headaches that wouldn’t go away. You know how I get them,” said Edward defensively. That much was true. He was prone to headaches that lasted for days, and there was little he could do for the pain except try to sleep as much as possible. “How are we doing in the race? Still ahead of the others?”
Samuel’s doubtful expression didn’t change, even as he warmed to the new subject. “Professor Meade says that we are close to New Zealand and should make landfall tomorrow. Once we get there, we’ll have a forty-eight hour mandatory stopover and take on fresh supplies. There’ll be time to get out and stretch your legs, Uncle.”
* * *
Early the next morning a dark sliver of land appeared on the horizon. Edward joined Meade at the front window and watched as it grew into a larger shape and eventually spread to fill his field of vision. Meade deftly navigated the airship and they reached their destination before noon. As soon as the Nares was securely tethered to the mast, Meade gave Edward and Samuel permission to leave the ship.
