News of the Goliath’s victorious battle against the most severe storm of the spring was spread on the front page of every newspaper in the country the next day and special writers and correspondents for the big press associations besieged the military patrol at Bellevue. Venturesome photographers even attempted to fly over the plant and snap pictures of the hangar but the army planes soon put an end to that stunt.
The insistence of the reporters compelled the attention of Andy’s father and Captain Harkins, and they called Andy into their conference. He advised that reporters be escorted through the hangar and taken on a thorough trip over the dirigible.
“We want the public to have faith in the Goliath,” counseled Andy, “and the reporters must have the facts if they are to write intelligently.”
“I believe you’re right,” agreed his father and Captain Harkins added a word of approval.
Andy and Bert were designated as the tour conductors and they met the reporters at the hotel. Nine men and two women were in the group they escorted to the plant.
Andy was amused by their exclamations of wonder at the size of the Goliath and he was pleased at their open praise of the beauty of the great ship. The inspection tour required two hours that afternoon for they went into every part of the dirigible, even up to the observation cockpits on top and several of the more daring reporters walking along the upper catwalk.
When they returned to the main cabin, they found that Captain Harkins had ordered the steward to serve tea. It was late afternoon by the time the reporters departed, but they left highly elated over their expedition and promised that glowing stories of the Goliath would appear in their papers and on the press association wires.
When they had gone, Andy and Bert sat down on the steps of the hotel. The tension of fighting with the Goliath through the storm of the night before had carried them along but now they relaxed and an enveloping cloak of fatigue settled over them.
“I’m so tired I can hardly wiggle,” groaned Bert.
“I’m just about that bad,” agreed Andy. “Believe me, I’ll go to bed early tonight.”
“Wonder what’s happened to Harry and the Neptune?” said Bert. “I managed to roll out this morning in time to tune in at eight o’clock but I didn’t get even a peep out of him.”
“I must have been sound asleep when you got up,” said Andy, “for I didn’t hear a thing.”
“I came back to bed after failing to get in touch with Harry,” replied Bert. “I’ll try again tonight at eight. Hope I have better luck. I wouldn’t trust one of those tin fish as far as I could throw my hat. They don’t look safe to me.”
“I expect a sailor feels the same way about an airship,” said Andy. “It all depends on what you’re used to.”
After dinner that night Andy’s father announced that special tests would be made the next week, including the attaching of a plane to the Goliath while in flight. This had been successfully accomplished by the Akron and they expected no difficulty. The special rigging was already at Bellevue and it would be only the matter of a few days to complete the installation. The Goliath differed from the Akron in one capacity. Where the Akron could carry a single plane slung underneath in a special carriage, the Goliath had a special hold midships where the planes could be raised and stored. It could accommodate four fast pursuit ships, launching them as it sped through the air at one hundred miles an hour. It was from this viewpoint that the Goliath held unusual value to the army officers.
Shortly before eight o’clock Andy and Bert went to the radio room, where Bert tuned up his receiver for a talk with Harry, now far out to sea in the Neptune.
He turned on the power at eight o’clock and waited patiently for a signal from the submarine. When it failed to come he tried calling Harry but even then failed to get a reply.
Bert worked for an hour hoping that he could get some answer from the Neptune but at nine o’clock was forced to admit defeat.
“I’m getting worried,” confessed Bert. “It was too stormy to make contact last night so it’s been nearly 36 hours since we’ve heard from Harry and anything can happen out there in mid-ocean.”
“Don’t let your imagination run away with you,” counseled Andy, who admitted to himself that he was afraid some accident had befallen the Neptune. “They’ve probably run into a streak of bad weather and may have submerged to try and ride it out.”
“I’ll try again the first thing in the morning,” said Bert. “We’ve just got to hear from Harry,” he added desperately.
In spite of their fatigue, Andy and Bert passed a restless night and they were up with the first sign of the dawn. Without waiting for breakfast they hurried to the radio room where Bert tuned in on the wave length used for communication between the station at Bellevue and the Neptune.
“Someone’s on the air,” he said quickly. “I can hear the hum of his transmitter; sounds like Harry’s set.”
“Hello, Neptune,” said Bert. “This is the station at Bellevue, Ky., calling for the submarine Neptune, now en route to Plymouth, England. Hello, Neptune, hello!”
Andy bent close to the loud speaker, waiting eagerly for the ether waves to bring a reply to Bert’s call.
It failed to come and Bert repeated his call. Still there was no answer and the call went out a third and then a fourth time.
“I can’t understand his failure to reply,” said Bert. “His set is running.”
“Try it once more,” urged Andy. “Maybe we’ll have better luck.”
Bert repeated his call and then gazed at Andy incredulously as Harry’s familiar voice replied almost immediately.
“You must be a prophet,” Bert told Andy. “Where in the dickens have you been for the last two days?” he asked Harry. “We’ve been scared stiff for fear your tin fish might have sunk.”
“No such luck,” replied Harry. “I’ve been so seasick I couldn’t even sit up. This is my first message since I last talked with you two days ago.”
“Been running into rough weather?” asked Andy.
“I never dreamed the ocean could be so nasty,” replied Harry in a hollow voice. “We’ve been tossed around like a cork and half the crew has been under the weather. This morning is the first time in 48 hours we could cruise on the surface with any degree of comfort.”
“Don’t blame us for your predicament,” said Bert unfeelingly. “I warned you to keep out of the submarine. But, no, you knew best.”
“Listen,” replied Harry. “I couldn’t let you go to the North Pole and slip one over on me so when I heard the Neptune was going to make the trip I signed up. You fellows wait until old man weather gets a real good shot at you and you won’t think it is quite so funny.”
“We’ve had our turn,” said Andy, and he told Harry in detail of the events which had occurred on their return from New York and of their strenuous battle against the elements.
“Looks to me like the Goliath and the Neptune proved their ability at about the same time,” said Harry. “After the last two days in the Neptune, I’ve got every confidence in it.”
“I called you for fifteen minutes before you answered,” said Bert. “Your transmitter was on the air but I couldn’t get any reply.”
“The answer is simple,” replied Harry. “I wasn’t here. As I said before, I’ve been feeling pretty rocky. Well, I came up to the radio room and turned on the set, intending to call you. Then I got shaky again and had to go back and lie down. Guess I forgot to turn off the set and it kept buzzing away.”
“How much longer will it take you to reach Plymouth?” asked Andy.
“With the delay we’ve encountered on account of the storm, it will take nearly another week,” replied Harry, “and here’s hoping that we’ll have fair weather from now on.”
They signed off a few minutes later after agreeing to talk again that night at eight o’clock.
The remainder of that day and the rest of the week was devoted to the installation of the special landing apparatus which would snare a plane out of mid-air and haul it safely into the inner hold of the Goliath.
Andy and Bert talked with Harry every day and learned that the Neptune, aided by favorable weather, was making good progress. The sea had steadied down and Harry had found his sea legs and his appetite had returned.
“Which means,” laughed Bert, “that the cook aboard that sub is going to have a man-sized job keeping Harry filled with food.”
Air corps officers from various posts flew in to inspect the Goliath while the members of the official board which had accompanied the airship on its flight to New York remained at hand for further tests. It was Tuesday of the following week before the installation of the special gear had been completed and the Goliath pronounced ready for further tests.
The pursuit ship of Lieutenant Crummit was also fitted with special rigging and when this was completed they were ready for another trial.
Tuesday was an ideal spring day with plenty of sunshine and only a slight breeze from the south. The Goliath was walked out of its hangar and, with Captain Harkins at the controls and Andy at his side, made its third trip aloft.
When they were well under way, Andy went back midships to supervise the contact with the pursuit plane.
Lieutenant Crummit buzzed nervously about the Goliath in his fast single-seater. The airship gradually stepped up its speed until it was doing a hundred miles an hour, going fast enough for the contact to be made.
Back in the cavernous hold of the Goliath a tense crew was waiting to leap to its task. Andy’s father came back to watch the operation.
A great arm hung beneath the dirigible and from this arm extended a V-shaped coupler into which the coupler on the plane would fit. Synchronization of speed was the main thing upon which success depended and it was up to Lieutenant Crummit to creep up under the Goliath at just a trifle more than a hundred miles an hour.
From the observation windows in the keel Andy watched the approach of the pursuit plane. Lieutenant Crummit was coming in as slowly as he dared, maneuvering carefully in an attempt to make the coupling on the first contact.
The triangular coupling mounted on the upper wing of the army plane slipped into the “V” of the arm below the Goliath. There was a slight jolt at the shock of contact and Lieutenant Crummit, assured that the coupling was fast, cut the switches on his motor and looked up expectantly.
Andy threw over the switch on the main control. The large trap door at the bottom of the Goliath rolled back. Simultaneously the arm which held the army plane fast in its grip moved upward rapidly, bringing the pursuit ship with it. In another thirty seconds the army fighter was deposited safely in the hold, the trap door was back in place and the powerful crane, or arm, which had caught and lifted the plane, was back in position.
Lieutenant Crummit leaped from the cockpit and ran toward Andy.
“That’s the greatest aerial stunt I’ve ever seen,” he said. “Why, it’s as simple as falling off a log. I couldn’t miss that big ‘V&r............