Evening star., 1918-07-28
By c. J. Cutliffe Hyne


and the huge airship quivered. Then
she swelled visibly. straining at her
covering till all wrinkles were lost In
chubbiness- The soaring seaplane
seemed to be dropping like stone be.
meath them. And then they swooped
up into a veil of cloud. dank and icy to
the feel. shutting them away from All
human sight. and spangling them with
instant dewdrops.
Keep her at that level. sir. for half
ear. "and 1 will change course
dozen points. Well soon shake on
our navy customer down below II only
this cloud doesn't thin out before we've
run our distance
Now. Capt. Sir Owen Kettle. X. c.
u. was beginning to find his naviga-
ton In tangle. At sea, come fair.
come gale. come night come fog. he
could nnd his way from port to port
with any expert who did business on
the great waters. The sextant and the
log were his cousins. the compass. with
its most cratic variations" was his
familiar friend.
But up here In the navigating posi-
tion Of the Zeppelin he was faced with
score of new problems. Height.
angle Of ascension, angle of descent,
wind drift. speed by engine evolution,
retardation due to increase In envel-
ope size. varying air friction and lee
way were all indicated on diafs and
recorders In front Of him. He took
these as accurate, to start with. but
soon convinced himself that many OF
them were recording fiction.
For while. too, he pinned his faith.
martner-fashion. on the reliability Of
the elaborate Thompson compass But
when. during a passage between two
notwithstanding clouds this in
strument emulated a windmill in full
working activity. he felt that one of
the had haan taken his
universe. Even his cigar in that rare
air burned abnormally.
Occasionally. very occasionally. he
got glimpse of the sun, and, COM
pairing this with his watch, was able
to get an approximate bearing. But
for the most part the Zeppelin travel
ed through a bank Of cloud. though
even this, most unfairly Che felt) was
not enough to conceal her.
Those envious dogs. the officers of
the British navy, who sailed the North
sea below in forty assorted craft, kept
spotting her outline.
Capt. Owen Kettle is, as has been
recorded many times, one of the few
really truthful men now alive, but
even he, when Mr.. Carnforth bawled
In his ear: Finding your way all
right?' snarled back: Think l don't
know my job"
You're making for the Texel, aren't
your
"As 1t happens, am"
''W course, my dear chap, l don't
question your navigation for one mo-
ment. but when the clouds pulled away
for moment just now, ! spotted one
of my own ships heading along the
same course as ourselves"
'.Well?"
''On, she's of to Norway, that's ALL"
by James, sir, are you trying to
teach me to navigator"
mot bit. not bit. Why should I?''
Because you know nothing about it.
either. up here. can get neither sights
Tor soundings and my compass is like
a tee-totum. You might think, Mr..
Carnforth, it is an easy thing to take a
hit Europe. Yesterday 1 would have
said a child could have done it. But
just now I'm free to own there are Diff
fculties. These auxiliary sky-wind-
tanners take bit more thinking out
than the ordinary seafaring man has
any idea of. But don't You get uneasy.
sir. You can carry in mind I've got to
do that Rhine tour or the Wharfe-
dale Particular Methodists will take
more handling than I care to talk
about"
A minute later Carnforth was tell
ing DIR. Mary Brown that he had
pulled his eminence's leg all right"
Nasty little wasp" said the lady.
Not a bit of it He's the best chap
in the eastern hemisphere. But / bet
you a bottle of eau de Cologne. my
dear, you can't guess what he's doing
just now"
''Oh. writing poetry. suppose.
MOT he. He's sewing at a skirt for
you. 1t will be made of canvas. He
cut 1t out with his pocket knife on tho
decakplanks. It's not one of those
nasty skinny ones, either. There will
be tons of room in 1t to cover all OF
you decentiy."
Now, ever since the start from that
lonely Yorkshire moorland, the port
engine of the Zeppelin had been Civ
ing trouble and naturally Carnforth
had given it most Of his attention 1t
was the .starboard engine that let
them down. fabrication failed at one
Of IL e fifty points; there was a smell
Of heated steel and scorching oil; and
before Carnforth, frantical1y search
ing, could find the sore, a gear box
bearing seized, and the whole of the
starboard machine stopped with a
squeal and a jar. incidentally one
huge propeller blade fiicked on into
space.
Good afternoon said Mr.. Martin
Carnforth, NJ. p, as he watched its
whirring fight. II wonder IL the old
bus has big enough helm to keep her
straight against the port engine alone.
Hullo, what's that? Yes. Oh, chasing
her tail, is she? II I slow down more
than q few revolutions she'll stop alto
gether. Aye. aye. sir; stop port engine
Is it,
Dusk was falling, and the huge gas.
bag .drifted as helpless derelict at the
same pace as the cloud which SUR