Dave Dashaway and His Giant Airship; or A Marvellous Trip Across the Atlantic, Page 2

  CHAPTER I

  THE GIANT AIRSHIP

  “Is that your airship?”

  “Not exactly, but I am in charge of it.”

  “The _Gossamer_, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Belongs to the Interstate Aero Company?”

  “You’re pretty well posted, I see.”

  “Ought to be. I’m close to the Interstate people, so I’d like to lookthe machine over. In fact, if you’ve got an expert aviator on hand, Ithink I’ll take a little flight.”

  John Grimshaw, ex-balloonist and battered-up aeronaut, regarded thefoppishly dressed young man before him quizzically.

  “Oh, you do, eh?” he observed, very dryly. “Well, it won’t be on thisoccasion. As to an expert aviator, we’ve got Dave Dashaway.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of him.”

  “Most everybody has, I reckon. He’s here on business though, and thatsign is for outsiders, yourself included.”

  Old Grimshaw pointed to a sign on the big gates of the high boardenclosure outside of which he stood on guard. It read: “No Admittance.”The visitor had come strolling from the direction of some summercottages near a pretty lake close by. Grimshaw surmised that he was oneof the smart set spending an outing there.

  “Humph!” observed the young man, with a shrug of his shoulders and ascowl. “Pretty independent, aren’t you? I think you’ll change your tuneshortly.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I fancy. I’ll bring somebody with me who will do what he chooses withyour precious old airship, and send you about your business, if he feelslike it.”

  The young man turned on his heel, mad as a hornet, as he spoke. Justthen the gate was pushed open, and a bright-faced, athletic young fellowstepped into view.

  “What’s the trouble, Mr. Grimshaw?” he asked, pleasantly.

  “Another of those pestiferous nuisances, who want to pry into otherpeople’s business, and think they own the world,” grumbled the veteranaeronaut.

  “What did he want?”

  John Grimshaw told his story.

  “Oh, you might have gratified his curiosity and let him look around alittle.”

  “See here, Dave Dashaway,” bristled up Grimshaw, “you’ve seen in thepast what taking in a stranger led to. You’re here for a specialpurpose, and no Jerry Dawson, or fellows of that stripe, are going toget a chance to trick us again.”

  “That’s so, Mr. Grimshaw, we can’t be too careful, I will admit,” agreedthe young aviator.

  He was a rather unassuming young fellow for a person of his merits andrecord, was this active lad who inside of three months had made his wayfrom humble circumstances to the very front rank of American airmen.

  Dave Dashaway looked back over the past twelve weeks of his young careerwith pride, pleasure and satisfaction. There were dark spots, of course.The Jerry Dawson old Grimshaw had mentioned was one of them. Enviousrivals there had been, too. Danger, scheming, cunning had more than oncethreatened.

  That bright, breezy afternoon, however, the accredited pilot of thelatest monoplane on exhibition, Dave Dashaway felt like a general whohad won a hard-fought battle and was resting on his laurels.

  Those who have read the first volume of the present series, entitled,“Dave Dashaway, the Young Aviator; Or, In the Clouds for Fame andFortune,” will recall how humble and difficult was the start in lifemade by the bright young aeronaut. The father of Dave had been a notedballoonist. Dave was of tender age when he died. For years the boy wasmade a drudge by a miserly old guardian. The finding of a prize medaland other valuables accidentally lost from an airship, sent Dave on histravels seeking their owner, Robert King, a noted airman, who gave Davea job.

  It seemed as though air sailing was born in Dave. He took to aviationlike a duck does to water. The youth did several helpful things at thevarious aero meets for Mr. King that won his confidence and friendship.Dave studied all the books he could get hold of on airships, andGrimshaw, a crippled and retired balloonist, took him into his school.

  From the initial run made on a dummy aeroplane along the ground, to hisfirst aerial flight in a monoplane with Mr. King, Dave showedintelligence, skill and ambition. Then came his first brilliant flightin the _Baby Racer_, a show biplane. So well did the young aviatormanage the _Racer_, that its owner, the Interstate Aero Company, made acontract with him for regular exhibitions.

  Dave did not disappoint his liberal employers in his efforts. He wonseveral prizes, gave a big lift to a chum, Hiram Dobbs, in the aerofield, and made old Grimshaw proud of so apt a pupil.

  In the second volume of the present series, called, “Dave Dashaway andHis Hydroplane; Or, Daring Adventures Over the Great Lakes,” is told howDave advanced another important step up the ladder of fame and fortune.The company employing him started him at exhibiting their modelhydroplane. This was a new venture for Dave, but he industriouslymastered its details and made a great hit at an aero meet near Chicago.

  All along the line Dave had been forced to oppose the envy and malice ofunprincipled business rivals. By thinking straight and acting straight,however, he had won out on every occasion, as an honest, deserving ladalways does. He and his young protege, Hiram Dobbs, by making a hundredmile record flight one dark and stormy night, got a big order for theInterstate Aero Company ahead of a competitor. Then Jerry Dawson, hisfather and a smuggler stole the hydro-monoplane, _Drifter_, and locatedacross the Canadian border. Dave and his friends began a wonderful chasein another machine. They had some stirring adventures, ending in thediscovery of the _Drifter_.

  That incident shut out the Dawsons from later aero meets, but, as theyhad not been prosecuted, they became hangers-on at circus and countyfair exhibitions. Dave heard of them once in awhile, but they seemedunlikely to injure him any farther.

  Dave and Hiram were finely rewarded by the Interstate people for theirsuccess. The company wanted Dave to make a two-year contract to exhibittheir machines. Dave, however, was obliged to decline the offer.

  There was a strong reason for this—a reason that was enough to set onfire the enthusiasm of any live, up-to-date boy.

  As related in the preceding volume, Dave had discovered an old friend ofhis dead father, one Cyrus Dale. This gentleman was wealthy, had nofamily, and had been a fellow balloonist of Mr. Dashaway, years before.A boy who had stolen some papers from Dave had succeeded in palminghimself off on Mr. Dale as Dave Dashaway.

  Mr. King had unmasked the imposter. The latter, with some friends, hadthen kidnapped Mr. Dale. The veteran aviator, Robert King, had rescuedMr. Dale from their clutches. The gratitude of the latter for this act,together with his warm interest in Dave, had led to the three comingtogether in a most friendly way. It was this ideal situation which hadresulted in the carrying out of a long-cherished plan of Mr. King.

  This was nothing less than a scheme for crossing the Atlantic in a giantairship. It had been the pet idea of the skilled aviator for years—thehope and dream of every ambitious airman in the world.

  Of all men in the field, Mr. King had the ability to direct such aproject. Mr. Dale was not only willing but ready to supply the capital.As to Dave and Hiram, they talked constantly of the enterprise daytimesand dreamed of it nights.

  The plan of the veteran aviator, however, was one that involved time,skill and expense. His plans for building the great airship were veryelaborate. A month had now gone by, and only the skeleton of the mammothair traveler had so far been constructed.

  A temporary aerodrome had been constructed on the edge of a large cityabout twenty-five miles from Lake Linden, where we find the youngaviator at the opening of the present story. There Mr. King, Mr. Daleand some skilled workmen were energetically pushing forward their work.If their plans did not go awry, before the end of August the giantairship would start out on the strangest, grandest trip ever attemptedin the field of aeronautics.

  In the meantime the Interstate Aero Company had prevailed on Dave togive th
em a month’s special service. This comprised the exhibition oftheir latest hydro-monoplane, the _Gossamer_, at Lake Linden. Thedistrict was one visited every summer by men of wealth from New York,Boston and other large cities. The Interstate people had secured whathad once been a small private park. Here Dave, Hiram and Mr. Grimshawhad been located for over a week.

  The object of their exhibitions was to influence a sale of theInterstate machines among the rich men visiting Lake Linden. Many ofthem were aero enthusiasts. Besides that, the proprietors of the resortpaid the company quite a large fee for making occasional flights as anattraction to popularize the lake.

  Dave glanced after the man who had just had the verbal tussle with Mr.Grimshaw. He did not like his trivial looks any more than the oldballoonist had. They had many curious visitors at the enclosure,however, and Dave forgot the strange brag of the latest one, as helooked down the road in the direction of the town of Linden.

  “It’s strange Hiram doesn’t get back with the carryall,” remarked theyoung aviator.

  “Yes, I heard the train come in half an hour ago,” replied Grimshaw.“Expecting quite a crowd, aren’t you, Dashaway?”

  “Why, yes, according to the message the Interstate people sent me,” saidDave. “It seems there is a special party of foreign airmen our New Yorksalesman has interested. Some of them have come over to take a try atthe meets in the Southern circuit, and want to buy machines.”

  “They’ll find ours the best,” asserted Grimshaw.

  “I think that, too,” agreed Dave. “That’s why I’ve got everything spickand span inside there. The _Gossamer_ looks as if she was just waitingto float like an eagle at the word.”

  “She’s a beauty, and no mistake,” declared Grimshaw, and like someardent horseman gazing at a fond pet, he pushed open the gate, and fixedhis eyes on the hydro-aeroplane in the middle of the enclosure. “She’sthe last word in airships,” boasted the old enthusiast. “That trialflight of yours yesterday, Dashaway, was the prettiest piece of air workI ever saw.”

  Intimate as the young aviator was with the _Gossamer_ and every detailof her delicate mechanism, he could not resist the fascination oflooking over the most beautiful model in the airship field.

  The _Gossamer_ had proven a revelation, even to skilled airmen. It hadbeen constructed in strict secrecy. The public had known nothing as tothe details of the craft until it was taken out on Lake Linden to testits balance and speed.

  It was equipped to carry four passengers, was driven by a fortyhorse-power motor, and made the tremendous speed of fifty miles an hourin the water and sixty miles an hour in the air. With its two propellersdriven by clutch and chain transmission, and its new automatic starterand fuel gauge, it was a marvel of beauty and utility, as readily sentup from the confined deck of a warship as from the broadest aero field.

  “She’s a bird, sure enough,” declared old Grimshaw, admiringly.

  “Wasn’t she sort of built for a bird?” challenged Dave, with a smile.

  “That’s so. Ah, I hear the wagon. Hiram is coming.”

  The two went outside the enclosure, and the man looked keenly down theroad in the direction of the village.

  “Why Dashaway,” he exclaimed, “it’s Hiram, but he isn’t bringing theparty you expected.”

  “That’s queer,” commented the young aviator.

  “He’s all alone—oh, no, he isn’t. He’s got one passenger aboard—a girl.”

  “A girl?” repeated Dave, staring somewhat mystified at the approachingvehicle.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s queerer still,” remarked the young aviator.