Airship Over Atherton

by Christopher Cummings

  “It’s that big lump just behind the centre of gravity,” Stephen said. The others laughed and Willy sniffed. He looked around. He was level with the roof of the shed and could see out over the treetops. To the south west he had a vista that swept off for thirty or forty kilometres; past the end of the Lamb Range and across the tablelands to Walsh Bluff and beyond. He drank in the view in a state close to rapture. Clear blue skies, morning sun on the jungle covered mountains, a bracing climate. It was good to be alive. He sighed with pleasure.

  Noddy’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Don’t just sit there Willy. Do something.”

  Willy looked down. “Great view.”

  “You didn’t need to build an airship to get it,” Stephen called sarcastically. “You could have just climbed the mango tree.”

  Willy’s father called up: “Hang on while we pull you down lower. Then I want you to practice moving.”

  He and Stick took hold of the mooring rope and pulled him down till he was just over their heads.

  “OK Willy, test the rudder,” his father commanded.

  Willy did so.

  “Now pedal.”

  The propeller whirred. Willy began to really enjoy himself.

  “Now rudder and pedal at the same time.”

  Willy did as he was told. He began to pedal faster and faster. The airship pulled forward until the mooring rope was pulled taut. Then the nose dipped down until the frame almost touched the ground.

  “That’ll do. Stop pedalling. Now, climb forward to the end of the frame, as though you were checking a guy rope.”

  Willy moved gingerly to obey. The bike and frame wobbled and he found it an awkward clamber to get up on the handlebars. The airship and guy ropes quivered and moved alarmingly and the nose dipped sharply as he edged out along the frame.

  “Keep going. We will catch you,” his father said. “We need to know how she will behave before we do any flights.”

  Even though he was only a metre above their heads Willy felt scared. Everything wobbled and shook. Nothing felt solid. He got his shoes tangled up in the guy ropes and had to back up.

  His father pointed. “Stand up and grab hold of those guy ropes, then move around them onto the frame,” he suggested.

  “They might not be strong enough,” Willy replied. But he took hold of one and tested it. He looked up at the seemingly huge envelope above.

  His father snorted: “Rot! That nylon rope has a breaking strain of about one tonne and the shear strength of those snap-catches is nearly the same. If it won’t take really robust handling at this altitude there is no way it goes any higher.”

  That thought spurred Willy into movement. He grasped the guy rope and put all his weight on it while he reached past the handlebars. The airship appeared to wobble and sway so much Willy feared it was rolling over and crashing. He froze and looked up at it.

  His father shook his head. “Keep moving! Of course it will sway and tilt,” he chided.

  Willy forced himself into movement. He swung his leg up onto the frame, striking a ballast container so hard that it crumpled. As he moved forward the whole frame tilted down so that the front touched the ground. Willy feared the whole contraption would roll right over.

  “Keep moving. It’s alright,” his father encouraged. Willy gripped the frame with his feet and hands but felt very awkward and he had trouble not falling forward.

  “I’ll have to turn around,” Willy said. He managed this with difficulty, getting the safety harness caught up between his legs as he did. Finally he untangled it. “It needs a deeper frame for me to hold on to so I can get a grip with my feet,” he said.

  Willy edged backwards and after a minute of clambering along the wobbling frame he reached the end guy rope. With a determined effort he turned around to grasp them.

  “That was hard to do. We need some improvements.”

  “You can do it though,” his father pointed out. “And you will only be doing it in an emergency.”

  Stick pointed. “What about a hand rope above the frame so you can walk along the frame with your feet inside it,” he suggested.

  “Be too unstable. I’d fall off. Besides, what would you fasten it to?” Willy asked.

  “To the guy ropes, at about chest height,” Stick replied.

  Willy’s father nodded. “Hmmm. Maybe. We could put two of them and you could squeeze along between them with them under your armpits. OK Willy, climb back to the seat, then go to the rear of the frame.”

  Willy grasped a guy rope and pulled himself up, then crawled awkwardly back along the frame. “These ballast bottles get in the way,” he complained.

  “You have to be able reach them easily to let the water out,” his father pointed out.

  Willy found it even harder to climb past the propeller and out to the stern. He had to unclip the safety harness and re-attach it to the frame further back. The airship again tilted alarmingly but the frame did not quite reach the ground. Willy turned and made his way back to his seat.

  His father then had him climb over the side to adjust one of the chain drives. The Willy had to stand on the seat to pretend to fix the propeller and to reach the gas release valves in the balloons overhead. To do this he had to haul the guy ropes down to reach the netting.

  “Too hard,” he puffed. “We need a rope ladder.”

  “One rope with knots in it will do. We will add it,” his father commented. “Now, let’s test your safety harness. Climb over the side and jump.”

  Willy gulped. “It will hurt.”

  “It will not. You will land on the ground first,” his father laughed.

  Willy climbed over the side and jumped, landing on his feet.

  “OK, let out the mooring rope till Willy comes just off the ground.”

  They eased the airship upward. Willy felt the harness tighten around his waist and suddenly his feet came off the ground and he dangled painfully, kicking at thin air.

  “This hurts!” he cried.

  “Not as much as going ‘splat!’ from a hundred metres up,” his father replied. “Now climb up the rope and get back into your seat.”

  Willy tried. “I can’t. My hands keep slipping. The rope is too thin,” he complained.

  Stephen scoffed. “You are too weak you mean,” he said.

  “Pull him down. We will tie knots in the rope,” Willy’s father ordered.

  This was done, then the airship again eased upwards until Willy again dangled under it. The rope was only three metres long, just long enough for him to reach the end of the frame from the seat but it took all his strength to struggle up it from knot to knot. With relief he grasped the frame and hauled himself up onto it, puffing and perspiring. He flopped down in the seat to get his breath back. Only then did he realize that the wobbling of the seat and frame hardly seemed noticeable.

  “Whew! That was hard work,” he gasped. “That is enough testing dad. Can I go for a flight now?”

  “No. Untie that spare anchor rope, throw it down, then haul it up, roll it up and stow it,” his father called back.

  Willy did as he was told. In spite of his impatience he was enjoying himself.

  “Now let go all of the ballast.”

  Willy crawled along the frame unscrewing the lids of the containers and tipping them up. Water gurgled and splashed out, causing those below to retreat with some laughter.

  “OK, reel him in and we will refill the ballast,” his father ordered when Willy regained his seat.

  “It’s not a very good system dad. I had trouble screwing the lids back on and I’ve dropped one,” Willy said as the frame was pulled down to the ground.

  “OK, we will think about a better method. Now, you hop off and go with Stephen to refill the water. Stick, you get some of that yellow nylon rope for hand-ropes. Marjorie, Noddy, Shona; you help me hold this. I’ll just put a few knots in these mooring ropes and the anchor rope. Don’t let go, because I am going to untie the airship from the tractor.”

  They set to
work with a will. Fifteen minutes later all was complete.

  “OK Willy, climb aboard.”

  CHAPTER 20

  FIRST FLIGHT

  Willy wouldn’t have believed he could rise to a higher pitch of excitement but he did. He clambered onto the frame with his heart hammering faster even than Marjorie had managed to make it. Then he was disappointed.

  His father shook his head. “Not yet Willy. We will test all the improvements first,” he said. “Ease out on the mooring line.”

  There was an abrupt jerk. Willy slipped and clutched at the handlebars. The airship rose so rapidly he thought it must have broken loose. He tried to focus his eyes to discover the problem. Another jerk caused the airship to sway and bump. Down below the airship Stephen and Noddy were yelling at each other and Marjorie had her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with alarm.

  “I thought you had the rope,” Noddy said.

  Stephen pushed his glasses back up his face. “And I was sure you had it!” he yelled back.

  “That will do both of you!” Willy’s father snapped. “Now pull the airship back down again.”

  Willy relaxed and gave his mother a rather sickly grin. That had been a fright. When he was only three metres above the ground they repeated the earlier tests. Willy found that, by standing up and using the hand ropes he was able to walk forward, except that it all sagged and wobbled so much he nearly fell off. Finally he had to bend down and clutch the frame to grip something solid.

  “No good,” he said. “It is all too loose.”

  “What about a foot rope under the frame,” Stick suggested. “Like they have under the yard-arms of sailing ships. Then you could use the frame to steady yourself.”

  “That’s a better idea. We will try it in a minute,” Willy’s father agreed.

  Willy fidgeted with impatience. “Please Dad. Can I have a flight now?”

  “Yes, but you stay tethered.”

  “Aw Dad!” Willy groaned. But he knew it was no use grumbling so he called down. “Righto Steve, let the rope right out.”

  This time the airship was eased up until it tugged at the rope. It was ten metres down to the top of the tractor and that seemed like a long way. Willy sat and did a visual check:- netting, balloons, guy ropes, frame, chains, propeller, rudder- ready. He wiped his hands, took a firm grip on the handlebars, and began to pedal.

  The airship began to move immediately. There was almost no breeze and Willy found he could make headway even by pedalling at half-speed. The ground slid away under him and he whooped with delight. From below came cheers and he looked down and waved.

  Because the mooring rope was tied to the tractor all Willy could do was go round in small circles but even that was fun. He tried pedalling at various speeds and experimented with the steering.

  Suddenly he felt the airship tilt and begin sinking. He looked down in alarm, but it was only Stick and Stephen hauling him down.

  “Time someone else had a turn,” his father said.

  Willy didn’t dispute. He happily clambered off and ran over to his mother. “It’s fabulous Mum. It is the most tremendous fun. Thanks ever so much.”

  His mother smiled but still looked doubtful. Aunty Isabel shook her head: “I’ve never seen the likes of it,” she said. “I think I’ll go and cook breakfast so I don’t have to watch it crash.”

  Willy laughed. He found Marjorie beside him and without thinking took her hands and began to dance in a circle. They all smiled and laughed at his pleasure. When he stopped dancing Marjorie kept hold of his hand and he did not want to hurt her feelings by shaking her off.

  The others had agreed on who was to take each turn. Stick was next. He climbed aboard and was eased up a few metres. Then Willy’s father got him to test the pedals and rudder before ordering the rope eased up to its full extent. Stick then pedalled around in circles for five minutes, never saying a word but obviously enjoying himself.

  It was Marjorie’s turn next. Willy led her forward but she was nervous and reluctant. “I don’t know. I’m scared. Someone else can have my go,” she said.

  “You will be alright. It is fun,” Willy reassured her. She looked doubtful, but urged on by Stick and Shona she fastened the safety harness and awkwardly clambered aboard. As the frame wobbled and shook she cried out in alarm and went very pale.

  “You’ll be alright,” Willy said, giving her hand a squeeze as she settled on the seat. “We will let you up a few metres only till you get used to it.”

  Marjorie looked at him and tried to smile. She bit her lip and nodded. Willy held the frame and signalled. The rope was let out until she was just above their heads.

  “Just sit there for a minute and relax,” Willy instructed. “Then try out the pedals and rudder.”

  Marjorie nodded tight-lipped. She did as she was told and then said: “That is enough. I will hop off now.”

  “No. Have a go. You are doing fine,” Willy encouraged.

  Stephen sneered and called out: “I thought you were an air cadet? If you aren’t game then give me a go.”

  Marjorie blushed. Willy smiled at her and motioned to Stick and Noddy. They began to let the rope slide slowly through their hands. Marjorie sat rigid and appeared to shut her eyes.

  “Pedal Marjorie,” Stick called, when the airship was at its maximum height. Marjorie looked down and visibly blanched.

  “Pedal,” Willy called. “It is quite safe. Just hang on.”

  Marjorie appeared not to hear him. Willy’s father shook his head. “Bring her down,” he ordered.

  They went to haul the airship down but Marjorie sat up, her face a mask of determination, and her feet began to move. Slowly the propeller began to spin. The airship moved. Marjorie pedalled faster and the propeller became a whirring disc. The airship moved forward and around. Willy cheered loudly and the others joined in. As the airship went around in its circle and Marjorie’s face came into view again she managed a lopsided grin.

  She stopped pedalling. “That will do for the moment. Pull me down please.”

  They hauled the airship down. Marjorie climbed off and stood visibly trembling. Willy impulsively stepped forward and hugged her. “Brave girl,” he whispered. She put her arms around him and clung tight. He patted her back and stroked her hair till she stopped shivering.

  Stephen was next. He scrambled aboard and was soon up, pedalling furiously and yelling: “Yipee!” and “Yeehaa!” and laughing.

  “Bloody good fun that!” he cried when he hopped off ten minutes later.

  “Your go Noddy. On you get,” Stick said.

  Noddy hesitated. “Nah! Don’t feel like it.”

  “What! Not another air cadet scared of flying?” Stephen jeered.

  “Shut up Steve,” Willy growled, releasing Marjorie.

  Stephen sneered. “Argh! What a mob of weakies you airheads are!”

  “You are the airhead!” Stick retorted. “It’s a wonder you don’t lift off the ground with all that hot air in your skull.”

  “It’s not hot air; it is a vacuum,” Willy added. “That’s why soldiers have such thick skulls; to stop the air pressure crushing them in.”

  “That will do!” Willy’s father ordered. “Do you want a go Noddy, or not?”

  Noddy looked sick. He swallowed and nodded. Stephen’s jibe had clearly hurt. He licked his lips and nervously climbed on. The safety harness was clipped on and he adjusted his position.

  “Let him up a few metres,” Willy’s father said. “OK Noddy, start testing.”

  Noddy pedalled and turned the steering. He looked very pale and his freckles stood out. He did not look down or smile.

  “OK, ease him up.”

  Stephen had the rope. He suddenly let go. The airship rose rapidly. Noddy cried out in fear: “Stop it! Help! Pull me down!” he shrieked. To Willy’s surprise Noddy scrambled from his seat.

  “Sit down Noddy. Hang on! It’s quite safe!” Willy yelled.

  Noddy paid no heed. As the airship rose he jumped. H
e almost reached the ground before the safety rope stopped his fall with a vicious jerk. The airship trembled, then resumed its rise. Noddy screamed in pain and fear. He kicked wildly and clawed at the air.

  Stick and Willy both ran to the mooring rope. They had to clamber up onto the tractor. Willy’s father joined them a moment later. They hauled Noddy down. By the time his feet touched the ground he was nearly hysterical. Marjorie ran forward and helped him to his feet and Shona ran in and unbuckled the harness.

  Shame and anger instantly replaced fear. “You mongrel Steve!” Noddy shouted. He ran at Stephen who turned and bolted. As he ran Stephen called back: “You did it to Willy. Can’t you take your own medicine, you big sook?”

  Stephen ran around the tractor with Noddy in pursuit. Willy’s father stepped between them.

  “That will do! Stop it! Stephen, that was a silly thing to do. No more safety problems or we pack it all up and go home.”

  “Yes sir,” Stephen replied, apparently contrite.

  Willy’s father looked around. “OK, who else want a go on the airship? What about Shona? Not allowed? Too bad. Mother?”

  Willy’s mother shook her head firmly.

  “You have a go dad,” Willy said.

  “OK.” His father climbed aboard and they released the rope slowly. The airship seemed very sluggish and only rose five metres to float with a slack cable.

  “You are too heavy dad. Let out some ballast,” Willy said.

  His father released water ballast until the airship rose in slow stages to the full height of the rope. Then he pedalled around for a while, making enthusiastic comments as he did so.

  “Your dad’s a bigger kid than you are Willy,” Stephen said.

  “He’s a good dad!” Willy snapped fiercely. Stephen made no reply and looked away.

  After they had hauled Willy’s father down Willy asked: “Dad, can I have a go with the airship free?”

  “Untethered? Oh, I don’t know.”

  Stick looked puzzled. “How will you control it Willy? I mean, it will go up but how will you get it to come down again? It hasn’t got any elevators to push it down like real airships do.”