Frederick Brereton - The Great Airship - A Tale of Adventure.

"Wonderful!" he cried. "Why, I imagined there would be nothing but machinery – huge, oily engines thumping and thudding away at one's side, with just an odd corner for the captain and crew to rest in. This is magnificent; there's nothing better in all London."

It was at least flattering to Andrew Provost's taste, since he had been the designer of all this magnificence. But who could expect Dicky Hamshaw to take notice of rich carpets, of glittering silver, of famous pictures clinging to silk-brocaded walls, when there was food before him? He was ravenous. Had Alec had any doubts about the matter before, this smart and jolly young sailor soon set them at rest. He tackled that meal with the same dash and energy with which he had undertaken the task that had sent him post haste away in the steam pinnace. It was, perhaps, half an hour later when, having eaten to his own and Alec's content, he leaned back in his chair, accepted with a wonderful assumption of coolness the cigarette which Sergeant Evans offered him, and setting a flaming match to the weed, tossed his head back and sent a cloud of smoke upward. A moment later he had leaped to his feet with an exclamation of amazement. He might have suddenly come upon a pin-point by the cry he gave. But undoubtedly something of real importance had created this excitement. He stood with his head tossed back, his eyes fixed upward, and his lips parted.

"What's that?" he asked. "It startled me. I – I've never seen anything like it. One appears to be looking through an enormous window into space. What's the meaning of it?"

His excitement caused Alec to smile, though he, too, looked his admiration as he gazed upward.

"Wait a moment," he said. "I'll switch off the light here and then the effect will be greater. Now, how's that?"

Well might Dicky give vent to exclamations of surprise and even of admiration, for, as he said, he had never seen anything nearly like this before. Up till now he had been far too busy with his meal to take note of anything but his immediate surroundings. But now, when he quite by chance cast his eyes upward, it was to become aware of the fact that this saloon apparently boasted of no ceiling. If it had one, then it was transparent; while, more wonderful than all, the supporting gas bag of this airship, which he imagined must be above, had all the appearance of being non-existent. Far overhead there burned one single electric lamp, casting its rays far and wide, illuminating the interior of the saloon brightly. But it appeared to hang to nothing, to be supported by no beam or rod, while the saloon itself in which he stood was, so far as he could see, attached to nothing. It was merely floating in the air, riding in space in the most uncanny and inexplicable fashion.

"Jingo!" he cried, feeling that strange, creepy sensation down his back again. "We're – we're safe, I hope?"

"As a house," laughed Alec. "But it does give one the creeps, don't it? The first night we were aboard and I looked upward it gave me quite a turn, even though I knew all the ins and outs of this wonderful vessel. Looks as if we were hanging here from nothing, eh?"

Dicky admitted the fact, with something approaching a gasp.

"And yet you're as sure as sure can be that such a thing is out of the question, absolutely impossible?"

"Well, yes," admitted the young officer, not too enthusiastically, for that uncanny feeling that he was high in the air, and might easily find himself falling with terrible rapidity, assailed him. And who can blame the midshipman? Who that has found himself suddenly at the edge of a tall cliff and looked over has not been assailed by a sensation of uneasiness, by the natural desire to reach firmer and more secure ground, to retire from a spot which might easily be filled with perils? Then think of Dicky Hamshaw high above the sea, aboard a ship the size and shape and contour of which were unknown to him, standing in a gilded saloon to all appearances open to the sky, with no ropes, no beams – nothing, in fact, to show him how it was supported. No wonder he shivered. Even Alec forebore to smile. The situation was unpleasant and uncanny to say the least of it.

"Place your two hands together and look between them," said Alec, suiting the action to the word. "Don't stare at the light up there, for it's so bright that it half blinds you. Look well to one side. Now. Eh?"

He expected an answer, but Dicky failed to give it. Gasps of astonishment escaped his wide-parted lips, gasps denoting pleasure and admiration. For up above, now that he had shielded his eyes from the glare and looked away from the light, he could dimly make out huge girders stretching from left to right, criss-crossing and interlacing with one another. Here and there they ended apparently in nothing. Elsewhere they could be traced to their junction with other girders. And on beyond them, far overhead, he could even see stars, blurred a trifle by the material through which he observed them.

"Well, of all the wonderful things of which I have ever heard, this beats all!" he gasped at last. "What's the thing made of? There are girders above there heavy enough to carry a 'Dreadnought'. There's a huge framework that looks as if it were constructed of solid bars of steel; and yet, to look at them in a half light, which just throws out their outline, one realizes that they are made of something else, something transparent – yes, that's the term – for when one stares direct at the light, knowing full well that there are more girders in that direction, none of them can be detected. George, this beats everything! What's the meaning of it all?"

"The meaning of it all! Why, that Joe Gresson is about the smartest fellow you ever heard of, that he's had the courage to employ a substance for the framework, and almost every part of this ship, which the average engineer would treat with scorn. In short, he's the discoverer of a substance which he calls celludine, which isn't celluloid, nor common glass, nor talc, and yet which is wonderfully like all three substances. You'll hear more about it, my boy. You'll get the same idea of Joe that I and all the others have. Look here! Just rap your knuckles against the wall of the saloon."

Dicky did as he was bidden, though he was still so astonished at the news given him that he did not even trouble to ask the reason.

"Well, how does it feel? Of course, there's a silk covering. Under that is the celludine. There's the same stuff here under the carpet."

"Hard, and yet it gives," said Dicky. "Appears to be very thin, and yet, I imagine, is very strong."

"That's celludine," cried Alec triumphantly. "Every wall, every door and frame is composed of it. Only here, where there are cabins – and one doesn't want to be stared at all day long – it's coloured a milky white, and so isn't transparent. But the ceiling is, that's why you can look aloft and see the stars floating overhead. But come along. We'll take a breather. I'll lead you to a spot that'll raise your hair, but will give you a better idea of this airship than you can possibly have imagined."

They left the saloon at once, and passing along the gallery paused to look into a room on the far side. There they found Commander Jackson, Andrew, and Joe comfortably seated, smoking and chatting quietly.

"Ah, comfortably dressed and fed, my lad?" sang out the Commander.

"Yes, thank you, sir," smiled Dicky. "And, I say, sir, what a ship we've got to!"

"You'll say so to-morrow, when you've looked over her," came the answer. "Where are you two youngsters off to?"

"Aloft," sang out Alec. "I'm going to give him a scare, and get him used to the situation. But how's the foreigner, please?"

"Conscious and tucked up in a warm bed," answered Andrew. "There, cut along, you two. But no mischief, mind. I don't care if I'm responsible for Alec, but I'll not be having the Admiralty pouring all their indignation upon my unprotected head because of the loss of a midshipman."