The Dirigibles of Death

by A. Hyatt Verrill

  Well, that's about all I can tell. Only it seemed that by using the ray Bob had discovered they could photograph the sky at night and spot the blimps. But there was something else they didn't get until I asked them what had caused the two blimps to blow up.

  "By Jove!" exclaimed Sir Kenyon, and "By Jove!" cried the Chief, and "By Jove!" said Mr. Landon, all in one breath.

  Then—"Mr. Nash," says Sir Kenyon, "I have always been a great admirer of Yankee ingenuity and brains, but I have never hitherto had such a convincing demonstration as at the present moment. The explosion! By Jove! Of course—it was the ray! Mr. Nash, you and your associate, Mr. Johnson have, I believe, saved England."

  Major Leighton Resumes

  I was still working day, and most of the night, on the mechanisms of the dirigibles, without having gotten much nearer a solution of their puzzles than ever, when—about eleven o'clock one night—I was ordered to report in London with all possible speed.

  Within the hour I was in Whitehall, and entering the offices of Sir Kenyon McDonald—to whom I had been instructed to report—I found him in earnest conversation with General Sir Edward Brassington and a young red-headed, freckle-faced chappie who, I felt sure, was an American.

  "Ah! Here you are!" exclaimed General Brassington, scarcely acknowledging my salute, and leaping to his feet. "Lost no time en route, I see. Good! Major Leighton, let me introduce Mr. Nash of New York, a young man to whom the British nation owes a debt it never can repay, and who—if I am not vastly mistaken—has saved England."

  I stared at the fellow, Nash, in amazement. What, I wondered, was Sir Edward talking about? What was all this about this youngster saving England, et cetera? He was a jolly-looking chappie, but hardly more than a boy, and was blushing furiously as he shook hands and the general spoke. And I must say he did not appear in the least like a saviour of the country, a hero or a master-mind, you know. Still I knew there must be something back of it all, for General Brassington and Sir Kenyon would not be here at this ungodly hour and would not have summoned me from Aldershot and would not be talking with young Nash, unless something important was in the air.

  “Now, Major," continued Sir Edward, "take a cigar and a chair and listen to the most amazing thing that's happened yet, eh, Sir Kenyon?"

  Sir Kenyon nodded and the general cleared his throat

  "As you know," he began, "we've been keeping a strict censorship on all outgoing and incoming mails, cables, radio and telephone messages. In doing so, we came upon several communications addressed to Mr. Nash which, to us, appeared a bit suspicious and puzzling. Among them a cable mentioning 'shots' and advising Nash to 'try a night shot.' Quite naturally we kept a pretty sharp eye on our young friend here. Detective Sergeant Landon being assigned to his case. No use in going into irrelevant details, but suffice to say that this evening—no, last evening—Nash was seen to place some sort of a mechanism in his window. It resembled a cinema camera, but Landon, who was watching from a distance, observed that it emitted a faint pinkish glow. The next instant there was a terrific detonation from the sky. As Landon had noted that one of our scouts was patrolling overhead, his first thought was that the airplane had blown up, but to his amazement the hum of the motor continued. Feeling certain that Nash and his machine had some connection with the explosion, Landon hurried to the nearest call-station to report, and then dashed off to Nash's place—a residential hotel in Earl's Court. He was informed that Nash had been called by telephone from New York, and at once cut-in on the wire and overheard a portion of the conversation that astounded him. The voice from America informed Nash that it had got the shot —Westminster Tower, Big Ben, trees, houses, et cetera, and up in the sky three big planes. Then it asked 'What the devil were those two black blimps that exploded?'

  "As a result, Sergeant Landon interviewed Mr. Nash at once and learned that the mechanism was a newly-invented apparatus for transmitting radio television, that Nash had been testing it out, and that, owing to a newly discovered light or ray, the device could transmit night scenes as clearly as though they were in daylight. In proof of this he exhibited several photographs that he had taken—so he declared—at night by means of the ray. It was all most extraordinary and amazing, but Landon was convinced of the truth of the astonishing story, for he had heard the voice in New York stating that the scene had been received and mentioning three planes and the two explosions, which could not, by any possibility, have been known to him, if he had not received the transmitted view as Nash claimed. At all events, Nash brought the apparatus to Sir Kenyon here, and had explained the entire device to us both, and we are both fully convinced that not only does this seemingly magical ray have the power of rendering visible these objects that otherwise are invisible in the darkness, but that it also possesses some inexplicable, but nevertheless actual power to destroy the damnable enemy's airships at a distance. You can see, Major Leighton, what a tremendously important thing it is. Not only can we now detect all the ships arriving during the night, determine where they are about to land and thus be in readiness to give them a warm reception, but we can do more—we can annihilate them—destroy them utterly in the air. Do you not agree with me that the British nation owes Mr. Nash an inestimable debt of gratitude?"

  "I can understand that the invention will prove of real value in revealing the whereabouts of the airships," I replied. "But I do not have any faith in the device exploding the ships. You see, Sir Edward, they are filled with helium gas which, as everyone knows, is non-explosive."

  "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "By Jove! But in that case. Major, how do you account for the explosion over London last night?"

  "Probably merely a coincidence," I replied. "I don't believe this little device"—I indicated the apparatus standing near—"had anything to do with it. I cannot believe a tiny light—no brighter than a radio tube— could possibly have any effect upon an object thousands of feet distant."

  General Brassington smiled and stroked his moustache, and his eyes twinkled with amusement. "H-mm, but my dearMajor Leighton, if helium gas is non-explosive, how could the blasted things explode even if they were not affected by Mr. Nash's device, but went off merely by coincidence?"

  I flushed. The general had me in a bit of a corner, so to say. "Perhaps," I suggested, "those particular ships were not filled with helium gas. Possibly the makers are running short of helium and are resorting to hydrogen. And with such a mass of electrical devices liable to produce a spark or a short circuit, a hydrogen-filled ship would be exceedingly likely to go off."

  "I cannot say that I agree with you," he stated. "But at all events we are simply wasting valuable time by discussing theories and suppositions. What I desire is a positive test—that is why I sent for you, Major. I want you to take Mr. Nash and his device to the vicinity of the nearest of the recently arrived ships— the one that came down two days ago near Chiselhurst is the most accessible I believe, and determine once and for all if it can be exploded by his ray. Have him set up the device at a safe distance—say a thousand yards —and start it going. If no result follows, we will know it had no connection with the explosion last night; but if, on the other hand—off with you, Major, for I shall remain here until you return and I'm getting damnably sleepy."

  I must confess that I felt a bit excited as we stopped the car about eight hundred yards from the dirigible, whose dim bulk could be seen against the sky looming above the alder thicket in which it had landed. It was an excellent subject for our tests, for there were no houses in the vicinity and it was fully a half-mile from the main road with no chances of any human beings being in the vicinity. For that matter, no one ever went near one of the things—everyone gave them a wide berth, for the dread of disease and their gruesome character kept everyone off.

  Young Nash seemed perfectly cocksure of himself and chattered on in his extraordinary slangy way as he set up the device upon which so much depended. I really liked the lad, he was so effervescent and friendly, and throughout our trip from town, he h
ad kept me jolly well laughing all the time with his quaint observations and original comments on his experiences in England. Presently the apparatus was adjusted and ready. "Here she goes!" Nash exclaimed. "Gee, I wonder if Bob happens to be looking into the receiver just now. Gosh won't he get a kick out of it if he is? Hold your ears, Major, because there's going to be an all-fired big bang in about ten seconds. Are you ready? One, two, three—go!"

  There was a faint pinkish glow in the front of the apparatus, a low hum like a badly tuned-in radio and then—a volcano seemed to burst into eruption, the entire earth seemed to shake, the whole country was lit up with a vivid glare, and I was deafened by the terrific detonation as the airship exploded with the report of a sixteen-inch gun. Then silence, darkness. Awed and astounded, I remained for a moment gazing transfixed with amazement at the spot where, a moment before, the ovoid form of the ship had loomed against the sky. Not a trace of it remained; the alder thicket had vanished. Nash's voice broke the spell.

  "Some bust-up, I'll tell the cock-eyed world," he remarked. "Well, Major, what do you know about the little old ray now?"

  I grasped his hand, patted him on the back, fairly waltzed him about in the delirium of my delight. Helium or not, whatever was in that huge metal container had been exploded by the invisible force emanating from the tiny pink glow in the machine. England was saved! I could visualize hundreds, thousands of the devices, each sending out its invisible, terrible rays, forming a barrage over the entire country, a screen of rays that would instantly destroy any of the airships that might approach.

  I drove back to London at breakneck speed and burst into the room where General Brassington and Sir Kenyon were awaiting us.

  Very evidently my face told the story, for the general grinned and rose.

  "Aha!" he exclaimed. "So helium gas is explosive after all, Major! I can see the test was most successful. Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to get an hour or two of sleep. I'm not as young as I was once, and I find late hours—no—" with a laugh—"early hours— tell on me. Good night—er, rather, good morning, Sir Kenyon and Major Leighton, and—er—Mr. Nash."

  Tired as I was and late—or early—as was the hour, I slept little, for my mind was filled with what I had witnessed and was busy planning the campaign to follow. Of course, the most essential and all-important matter was to manufacture tens of thousands of the ray-producing devices. But here we were, literally up a tree, as the Americans say. Nash himself hadn't the most remote idea of how the ray was produced or the chemicals used in its production. It was in fact, a secret known only to his friend, Johnson, and Johnson was in New York. Ponderous machinery can, however, move with rapidity in an emergency, and before I had left Sir Kenyon, long messages in code had been sent to the British Ambassador in Washington; all ordinary communications had been ordered off in order to permit Nash to carry on an hour's telephone conversation with his partner in New York, and arrangements had been completed for Johnson to be rushed to England by our fastest cruiser in American waters.

  It would be at least four days before he could arrive, but the time would not be entirely wasted by any means. Although we did not know the secrets of the ray, for we dared not permit Johnson to divulge them over the telephone or by any other form of message that might be intercepted, yet the mechanical portions of the device were obvious, and orders had been issued for every available factory to commence immediately the production of such parts of the apparatus as could be duplicated, and to work night and day to full capacity.

  By the time Johnson arrived we had a stupendous supply of the devices completed and all ready and waiting for the installation of the ray-producing materials. Fortunately there was an abundant supply of the necessary chemicals and minerals on hand, and two days after Johnson reached England the first of the ray machines were being set up. These were located in Devon and Sussex, for by checking up on matters we had ascertained that the majority of attacks had been made in these two counties. Here I might mention the rather curious fact, though easily explainable, that not a single one of the ships had ever landed in or near a large town or a city. Of course, it was evident that one of the damnable things landing in a city would instantly be discovered and that its occupants would have practically no chance of living long enough to do any material damage. But it served to prove most conclusively that the dirigibles were not dropped, hit or miss, on England, but were guided or controlled from a distance with such nicety and precision that out of the hundreds that had landed, no error had been made; no two had dropped in or even near the same spot, and, as I said, none had descended on a town or for that matter in a densely populated area.

  In one way this made the installation of our destructive ray machine easier, but on the other hand, it made the work more difficult, a seemingly paradoxical statement to be sure, but plain enough when one comes to think of it. As we could feel reasonably certain that none of the things would descend near the large cities or in their suburbs, we could leave such areas unprotected. In fact, as General Brassington pointed out, to bring down or to explode such of the ships as might be passing over a city en route elsewhere would be highly dangerous to the city and its inhabitants. On the other hand, the fact that no two ever landed in the same spot made it impossible for us to foresee where the next ones would appear.

  Of course, this problem was a problem only during those few days when our supply of ray machines was limited. But within a very short time we had so many thousands of the devices that a complete screen of invisible rays was spread over the entire southern half of England, and nightly the whole country was illuminated by the glare of exploding dirigibles in the sky and the detonations sounded like a barrage of heavy gunfire. And the fact that the things continued blindly to run into our destructive ray-screen proved that even if the fiends who were sending them could plot out their prospective landing places with such nicety, they had no means of ascertaining whether or not the ships reached their destinations. So successful and complete was the protection afforded by the Johnson ray, that we were enabled to trust to the devices to protect southern England, and turned all attentions and concentrated all efforts upon the northern, eastern and western shores, upon Wales and Ireland and finally upon Scotland.

  But despite the tremendous success of the rays and their inestimable value as a protection to our country and our people, still it did not get at the root of the matter, the question of whence came the damnable black dirigibles with their frightful cargoes, the solution of the mystery of the identity of the enemy who had resorted to the diabolical plan of destroying a nation. I mentioned this to Sir Kenyon one day and asserted that, in my opinion, more energetic steps should be taken to determine who was our invisible and unknown enemy.

  For a time he remained silent, deep in thought, pondering on the matter, his bushy brows drawn together, his fingers tapping on the desk before him.

  Finally he glanced up, smiled and lit a cigar. "Possibly, Major Leighton, you are not fully cognizant of all that transpires in my department," he observed. "In fact," he continued, "I should consider I had completely failed in my duty and in the trust reposed in me if you, or anyone else, knew all or even a small portion of what took place in the department under my supervision. But I am now in a position to assure you that we are very near the point of descending upon the arch-enemy—or better, the arch-fiend—who has brought this dire calamity upon England, but which, thanks to God and our loyal people and—yes, I must not forget them—those two remarkable young Americans, Nash and Johnson, has not succeeded to the extent our enemy expected, and which, I trust, will soon be nullified completely.

  "Try and think, Major, what enemy it could be. What enemy have we who could have put this horrible idea into practice? What enemy has reason to wish to reduce our man-power, to so disrupt our organization at home that we could not defend our possessions, much less dream of sending expeditionary forces elsewhere, could not even fulfill international pledges as allies nor give heed to matters transpiring overse
as? What country possesses helium gas? What enemy could secure thousands, tens of thousands of negroes for his hellish purpose? Use a process of elimination and see if you cannot answer some of those questions, Major Leighton."

  I racked my brains. "Obviously it is a tropical country whence the ships come," I replied. "Evidently some spot inhabited by a tremendous negroid population. Only two localities on earth, as far as known, possess helium gas in any quantities—the United States and— my God, Sir Kenyon—Andaya! But—but that's impossible! Andaya is a tiny state—it's hidden in the wilds of Africa and it possesses no great cities, no facilities for making such complicated machines in such countless numbers. To do that would require a great and powerful country, a great government—one of the Powers. And besides, Andaya is not an enemy—not at war with England."

  Sir Kenyon smiled. "In the game of policies and politics there are endless wheels within wheels," he informed me. "Andaya, to be sure, is a tiny principality, a buffer state, as we might say, with limited resources and, as you say, tucked away in the heart of Africa. But you forget—or perhaps I should say, you don't know, that back of Andaya is one of the greatest, most powerful of the world's Powers; that that Power is and always has been an enemy of our country, and that it would gain immeasurably by our destruction—even by reducing our status to a point where we would no longer be of value as an ally to another Power, that hitherto has been the wall that has protected us from becoming involved in open warfare with the first-mentioned Power. Can't you see that if, by machinations and promises, this Power could induce Andaya to fall in with its diabolical plan to injure, to destroy us, that its way would be cleared for a declaration of hostilities? And can you not see that—in case suspicion were directed at the great Power, we could not possibly prove that it had any hand in the affair? Its statesmen could and would deny all knowledge of the events. The entire blame would be thrown upon Andaya, and even if we wiped Andaya completely off the map, no one would greatly object. Besides, Andaya has its own personal grudge against us. Do you not remember that, five years ago, we used drastic measures to suppress the beastly slave trade that was the most lucrative source of income for the country? The greatest factor in that slave trade, the man who was the head of it all, who practically controlled it and who had amassed an incredible fortune from it, is the nominal ruler of Andaya and—what is more significant, he is a native of the country I hinted at,"