Captain Harkins’ announcement that the Goliath would make its first long test flight the next morning meant hours of work ahead for Andy but the assistant pilot of the airship threw himself into the task with his usual unfailing energy. He had able assistants in Serge and Bert.

The visit to Washington was to be a complete surprise and every effort was made to keep the news from getting out from Bellevue. If all went well the first intimation the capital would have of the visit of the new sky king would be when the rising sun silvered the nose of the Goliath with its rays.

Andy received detailed reports from each of the engine rooms on the performance during the trip over the field and found them highly satisfactory. Fuel consumption had been less than he had anticipated. Supplies for the flight the next day must be ordered and placed aboard for breakfast and lunch would be served to the army officers and to the members of the crew. Serge volunteered to attend to that task while Bert kept his radio busy getting the latest weather reports. He asked the Washington bureau for a special report at two o’clock the next morning and Washington came back with:

“What’s up? Are you chaps going to make a trial flight at that hour of the night?”

Bert refused to give the curious operators at Washington any information but secured the promise that he could have a special meteorological report at the desired hour.

Preparations for the flight were completed by early evening and members of the crew were ordered to bed by nine o’clock. They would be aroused shortly after two if the weather report at that hour was favorable for their plans.

At eight that night the three young friends gathered in Bert’s radio shack to talk with Harry, now well out to sea in the Neptune. They picked up Harry’s signal on time to the minute and learned that the Neptune had been having a bad time of it.

“I’ve been sick most of the day,” said Harry miserably. “The sea got mighty choppy this morning and we’ve been tossed all over the inside of this tin fish. The air’s bad, too, and it’s been so rough we couldn’t have eaten much if we had felt like it.”

“That’s too bad,” replied Bert, “but it’s just what you get for gallivanting around the world in a cast-iron cigar.”

“When is the Goliath going to test its wings?” asked Harry.

“Can’t tell you,” replied Andy, who had picked up the microphone.

“You mean you won’t tell me,” said Harry.

“I guess that’s it,” admitted Andy, “but the first long flight is supposed to be a surprise trip and if I told you where and when we were going to take the air someone with a low wave set might pick it up and the newspapers would spread it all over their front pages.”

“I get you,” replied Harry. “When shall I come on the air again.”

Andy turned to Bert, cutting off the mike temporarily.

“We ought to be over Washington around six o’clock,” he said. “How about having Harry tune in then and we’ll talk to him while we’re circling over the capital?”

“Fine idea,” replied Bert enthusiastically. “Make it six o’clock and I’ll make a note of it now and put it on my instrument board on the Goliath. If I don’t I may get so excited I’ll forget to call Harry and he’ll be sitting around out there in the ocean wondering what has happened.”

Andy cut in the mike again.

“Turn on your juice tomorrow morning at six o’clock, eastern standard time,” he told Harry. “I’m going to sign off now. We’re rolling out early in the morning and I need a little ‘shut-eye’.”

Andy, accompanied by Bert and Serge, made a final inspection of the Goliath. Everything was in readiness for the early morning flight. They returned to their rooms at the hotel but sleep was a long time in coming for Andy. He had worked so many long months over the plans and on the actual construction of the Goliath that their realization had seemed, until now, an almost unattainable dream. But now the Goliath was ready to claim its place as the king of all the man-made crafts which cruised the heavens for only that afternoon the great dirigible had tested its wings and found them strong and reliable. On the morrow it would sail away into the eastern sky on its first long trip.

Andy finally fell asleep but in his ears was the steady beat of the Goliath’s engines, the sweetest music of all to him.

Bert had left a call at the hotel desk for 1:45 o’clock and he was at his receiving set promptly at two for the special meteorological report from Washington.

The report promised fair weather with a light west wind and an unlimited ceiling.

Bert copied the report in triplicate, placed one copy in his own files for a record and hastened back to the hotel with the other two. He awakened Andy and read the report to the assistant pilot.

“That means we sail at three,” said Andy, as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and hurriedly got into his clothes.

“I’ll go wake Dad and Captain Harkins,” he added.

“Here’s a copy of the report for them,” said Bert as he handed Andy the third tissue he had made.

Andy awakened his father and the commander of the Goliath and they agreed that weather conditions were ideal for the flight to Washington.

By two-thirty the hangar was ablaze with light as the members of the crew, their eyes still heavy with sleep, hurried to their posts. Motors were given a final going over, rigging was thoroughly checked, the water ballasts tanks and the water condenser at the top of the big bag were inspected. Finally the Goliath was pronounced ready to go.

At two forty-five the big doors at the end of the hangar started to roll back on their tracks and Andy, from his post in the control room, could hear the roar of engines as the army pilots, assigned to fly with the Goliath on any of its longer trips, warmed up their craft. Four of the army planes under the command of Lieutenant Crummit would accompany the Goliath on the trip to Washington.

The air corps board which was to pass on the performance of the dirigible climbed aboard. Captain Harkins took his place at the main control station and Andy’s whistle shrilled for the ground crew to take hold.

The whistle sounded again and the tractor-truck with the portable mooring mast lurched into motion and the Goliath moved slowly ahead. The big ship was walked out into the soft moonlight, which bathed it with its radiance.

Andy gave a general order for the 12 engine rooms to stand by. Then followed the order to start the engines and the night was broken by the subdued roar of the powerful motors.

“All lights out except the riding lights,” said Captain Harkins and Andy turned to the bank of switches to carry out the command. Only the shaded lights over the instruments in the control room and those in the engine rooms were left on.

Down the field Andy could see the sputtering stream of fire from the exhausts of the four army planes which were to escort them on the flight to Washington. They would take off as soon as the Goliath was clear of the field.

Reports checked back to Andy from the engine rooms indicated that every motor was functioning perfectly and Andy relayed the report on to Captain Harkins.

Bert, who had kept tuned in on Washington, hurried into the control room, a hastily penciled message in his hand.

Captain Harkins took the message, held it down under one of the shaded lights, and read it aloud so that everyone in the control room could hear.

“Weather from Kentucky east to Atlantic seaboard fair; light west wind; unlimited visibility.”

“The weather reports continues favorable,” said Captain Harkins. Then, turning to Andy, he said:

“Give the signal for the ground crew to let go.”

Andy stepped to the open window. In the moonlight below he could see the line of workmen stretched back into the shadows under the great hulk. His whistle shrilled the release signal. The ground crew let go their hold on the great gas bag and at the same moment the operator of the mooring mast released the automatic coupling.

There was only the slightest tremble as the Goliath started upward. The ground dropped silently away. Below Andy could see the streaks of flame from the exhausts of the fast army planes. A few lights glowed in Bellevue itself but the rest of the country seemed asleep. The Goliath rose to a level with the hills which enclosed the valley and drifted steadily upward, the beat of its engines muffled by the interior engine room as the powerful motors waited for the command to start driving the dirigible through the air.

“Tell the engine rooms to stand by,” said Captain Harkins. A moment later Andy got the command of slow speed ahead and he felt the Goliath gather itself for the trip through the night. The big ship felt steadier with the power on and he leaned from his window to listen to the steady monotone of the muffled exhausts.

Lights of the field drifted out of sight and they slipped over the hills on the start of their surprise visit to Washington. Gradually the speed was stepped up. Forty, fifty, sixty miles an hour they pushed their way through the moonlit sky, soaring through the heavens. The altimeter showed a steady climb and Captain Harkins kept the nose of the Goliath up until they had reached the ten thousand foot level. At that height the muffled sound of the airship’s engines could not be heard on the ground and it was doubtful if anyone would see the great silver craft slipping through the sky.

The army planes caught up with them, circled around once or twice, and then climbed five thousand feet above the Goliath, riding the high heavens in unceasing vigilance.

Bert came into the control room again and spoke to Captain Harkins.

“Washington wants to know what’s up,” said Bert. “What shall I tell them?”

Captain Harkins looked at his watch. It was three-thirty.

“Tell them they’ll have a surprise for breakfast,” he said, and Bert returned to his radio cubicle to dispatch the message.

The army inspectors were busy going over the Goliath, checking every detail of the airship’s operation, rate of climb, maneuverability, speed, engine performance, fuel consumption and the hundred and one specifications which Uncle Sam had decided must be met by the Goliath before it would be acceptable and the remainder of the federal appropriation paid to the National Airways.

With the engines thoroughly warmed to their task. Captain Harkins increased the speed until the Goliath was racing along at an even 100 miles an hour. There was no sense of motion or undue speed; only the ground slipping away beneath in an ever-changing pattern of lights and shadows. Occasionally the streaking lights of a train would be visible or a larger town could cast its reflection upward, but Captain Harkins shifted his course to avoid the larger cities. Some enterprising newspaperman might catch the muffled beat of the engines and take the surprise element out of their visit to the capital.

Andy checked their position on the map and stepped over to Captain Harkins.

“We’ll be over Washington about five-thirty if we maintain our present rate of speed,” he said.

“That’s too early,” replied the commander. “Order the engines down to half speed. We can speed up later if we find we’re a little behind.”

Andy phoned the order to the engine rooms and the Goliath slowed down to a steady fifty miles an hour, with the distance slipping off its silvered sides like magic miles.

The assistant pilot got permission to leave his post and make a tour of inspection. He stopped at Bert’s cubby on his way back into the interior.

“Washington is about crazy with curiosity,” grinned Bert, who had a headset on, “He knows we’ve left the field because our signals are stronger but he doesn’t believe we’re on our way east. Bet he stretches his neck when we arrive.”

“A good many thousand people are going to have Stiff necks before the day’s over,” smiled Andy. “See you later. I’m going to make a swing around this big weiner.”

All lights in the main gondola, except those in the control and radio rooms were out, but enough moonlight came through the windows of the promenade deck for Andy to see his way clearly back to the main catwalk in the interior. The catwalk was well lighted and he passed along under the towering gas cells, filled with the precious helium. The stress and strain meters showed that the duralumin framework was reacting even more favorably than they had dared hope to under the test of actual flight.

Andy continued on until he was in the middle of the ship where the great cargo hold was located. It yawned an empty, dimly lighted space. In the fore part were the quarters for the members of the crew and officers and Andy stepped into the tiny cabin he shared with Bert. The night had been raw when he started and he had put on an extra jacket of heavy brown suede but it was not needed now for with their approach to the eastern seaboard the temperature was climbing steadily.

After leaving his cabin, Andy ran up one of the ladders which led to the top of the dirigible and its observation cockpits. He saw the shadow of someone ahead of him and discovered that Serge, who had been making a trip through the interior, could not resist the temptation and had also gone up top.

“You Americans should be very proud of the Goliath,” said Serge. “I have never dreamed of anything so complete. It is a Pullman of the air; every comfort thought of and anticipated.”

“The thing that pleases me,” said Andy, “is that the ship is so far exceeding every specification set for it. The army men haven’t said very much but I can tell that they are highly pleased.”

They remained up top for ten of fifteen minutes as the new king of the skies slid through its domain. The sky was reddening in the east with the approach of the new day. The mountains were in the west, smeared with the sullen shadows of a night which seemed reluctant to leave. Before them stretched the smoother country of Virginia.

“We’re climbing again,” said Andy. “Captain Harkins must be going up so high we won’t be heard or seen on the ground.”

The army planes, faithful guardians through the night, circled far overhead.

“I don’t envy those chaps,” grinned Serge. “We are moving so slowly they must find it hard to stay anywhere near us. Lieutenant Crummit told me their low cruising speed was 100 miles an hour. Look how they zig-zag back and forth.”

“They’ll leave us when we get over Washington and drop down on Bolling field to refuel,” said Andy. “By the time we get back to Bellevue they’ll be pretty much all in. Handling one of those delicate pursuit ships for eight or ten hours is no picnic.”

The red disk of the sun popped into view and Andy and Serge left the observation cockpit and returned to the control room. Captain Harkins had hardly moved since leaving Bellevue but now he turned the main controls over to Andy.

“The course is north, northeast,” he said. “Hold her as she is and at 12,000 feet.”

“North by northeast,” replied Andy, “and at 12,000 feet. Yes sir.”

The steward had been busy for the last hour and a hot breakfast was served to the army observers and officers of the dirigible in the main dining salon while the crew had its breakfast in the dining room midships.

Bert brought Andy a cup of coffee and a sandwich but the assistant pilot was too interested in the way the Goliath handled to think of asking for relief so he could go back and have the hot cereal, toast and jam that the others enjoyed.

He was master of their dirigible, the king of the skies, the greatest airship ever built by man! Andy’s hands firmly grasped the wheels which controlled the elevators and the rudder. The Goliath responded easily and he swung it a point or two off course to see just how it handled.

Captain Harkins returned from breakfast while Andy was bringing the Goliath back on course.

“Experimenting a little to see how the big boy handles?” asked the commander.

“I couldn’t resist,” replied Andy.

“I know how you feel,” smiled Captain Harkins. “I did a little of it myself while we were over the mountains.” He turned to Serge.

“Step up here and take control,” he told the young Rubanian, whose mission had once been the destruction of the craft in which they now rode in comfort and security.

Serge smiled gratefully as he accepted Captain Harkins’ invitation. It had been months since he had stood at the controls of a dirigible. The last time had been early in the winter when he had guided one of the large Blenkkos over Kratz, the capital of Rubania. The day following that trip he had been ordered into the Gerka and then put on the long distance planes, with the result that he was now in the United States, a member of the crew of the Goliath. It all seemed like a vague dream, his long flight across the ocean, his acceptance at Bellevue as a civilian observer from Friedrichshafen and the final discovery of his identity by Andy and the downfall of Alex Reikoff, dictator of Rubania. Within the hour he would soar over Washington, the capital of the United States, and he felt his body glow with the happiness and contentment that was his.

Captain Harkins checked the position of the Goliath and ordered a slight increase in speed. The sun cleared away the morning mists and the entire countryside lay below them, clothed with the green freshness of the spring.

The commander took over the controls and Andy returned to his station at Captain Harkin’s right where he was in a position to relay instantly orders to the engine crews.

Andy, watching ahead intently, was the first to catch the white gleam of the Washington monument and a minute later the dome of the capitol was sighted. The Potomac curved lazily below and they soared over Alexandria, Va; In order to reach Washington at six, Captain Harkins had dipped further into Virginia than he had first intended and approached Washington from the south and east.

The assistant pilot of the Goliath had made many air trips to Washington but he had never viewed the city from that height and he marveled at the beauty of the capital; its great, gleaming white buildings, its broad boulevards and its stately memorials.

It was just six o’clock when Bert hurried out of the radio room.

“Harry just came in on the air,” he said. “Can you get off a minute and we’ll say good morning to him?”

Serge relieved Andy at the phones and the assistant pilot accompanied Bert back to the radio cubby, where he was handed a headset.

“Harry wants to know what’s up?” chuckled Bert.

“All right,” grinned Andy. “Cut him in and then listen to him explode.”

Bert made the necessary adjustments and Andy heard Harry’s familiar voice.

“Hello, hello, hello,” said Andy. “This is the dirigible Goliath, now over the city of Washington, in a special broadcast to the Arctic submarine Neptune, en route from Brooklyn, New York, to Plymouth, England, on the first leg of its trip to the North pole where it will be met this summer by the Goliath for an exchange of mail. This is a beautifully clear spring morning with a light west wind. We are paying a surprise visit to the capital after an unannounced departure this morning at three o’clock from the Goliath’s home field at Bellevue, Ky.”

Andy heard an excited exclamation and then Harry, now far out to sea in the Neptune, started plying him with questions.

“Are you really over Washington now? How is the Goliath behaving? Why didn’t you tell a fellow what you were going to do?”

One by one Andy answered them and before he signed off Harry gave three stirring cheers for the Goliath and the success of its first long flight.

“The weather is still bad,” he said as he signed off, “and if you don’t get me at eight tonight, don’t worry. I’m more than a little seasick and I may not feel up to talking with anyone but I’ll be on sure tomorrow morning at eight.”

Andy met his father on the way back to the control room and found him jubilant.

“The army board is more than enthusiastic about the performance,” he told Andy, “and there is no question but what we will get an immediate approval and payment of the balance of the government appropriation.”

“I’m mighty glad to know that, Dad,” replied Andy, “for I realize how much the success of the Goliath means to you. It will prove the practicability of these big ships for commercial service and mean we can build more of them for National Airways.”

When Andy returned to his post in the control room, they were circling over the heart of the city and losing altitude rapidly for Captain Harkins was coming down to give the early morning risers a close view of the world’s largest airship.

They swung out over the Potomac and the crew of the night boat, up from Norfolk, Va., which was just steaming into the tidal basin, waved as the Goliath drifted overhead, its speed now cut down to a mere thirty miles an hour. They cruised over the city at a thousand feet.

News of the Goliath’s arrival spread rapidly and hundreds of people flocked into the streets to see the big airship.

Captain Harkins headed for the White House and dropped the airship down to seven hundred and fifty feet. Back of the White House a group of men ceased their game of medicine ball to gaze up at the great silver hulk.

Andy nudged Serge and pointed downward.

“There’s the president and his ‘medicine ball’ cabinet,” he said.

“What kind of a cabinet is that?” asked Serge.

“It’s the group of men with which the president plays medicine ball,” explained Andy. “They get together every morning for their exercise. There’s usually the president’s personal physician, at least one of his private secretaries and several cabinet members and usually a justice of the supreme court.”

Officers and crew of the Goliath lined the windows as they passed over the White House and waved at the group below, which returned the greeting enthusiastically.

Captain Harkins dipped the bow of the airship in salute and then threw over the elevator controls and sent the Goliath to a safer altitude. For an hour they cruised over the capital and its environs, now swinging down into Virginia, idling slowly over Arlington and then back over the capital.

Several of the army officers had been in the radio room, getting in touch with their superiors. When they returned they went into a conference with Captain Harkins and Andy’s father. The assistant pilot caught snatches of the conversation. He heard Baltimore, New York and Philadelphia mentioned and his heart leaped as Captain Harkins turned to him and handed over the controls.

“Make one more circle over the city,” he said, “and then set your course for Baltimore.”

“Yes sir,” said Andy. “After Baltimore do we start home?”

“Not yet,” replied Captain Harkins, his fine eyes twinkling. “The army men are anxious that New York and Philadelphia get a glimpse of the Goliath so we won’t be home until night.”

They made a final circle of the city and Andy set the course for Baltimore. Serge, at the telephone, relayed the order for the engines to increase their speed to eighty miles and hour and in less than half an hour they were within sight of the city that made the oyster famous.

News that they had headed toward Baltimore had preceded them and the streets were thick with thousands of people craning their necks to see the sky king. They gave Baltimore a half hour view at two thousand feet and by that time the air was full of planes which circled around them. The faithful army ships had rejoined them and had a busy time chasing newspaper planes whose ambitious photographers insisted on getting too close to the Goliath.

The ever-growing procession left Baltimore and headed north for Philadelphia, which was also given a half hour view of them before they proceeded on toward New York.

Captain Harkins took charge again and set the speed so the Goliath would reach the metropolis during the noon hour when the thousands of down town workers would be out to lunch and free to watch the maneuvers of the airship.

Bert stuck his head out of the radio room and called to Andy.

“I’ve just picked up a message from Washington to Lakehurst,” he said. “The Akron and the Los Angeles are being ordered out to join us in a parade over New York.”

“I’d almost like to be on the ground to see it,” said Andy, “but I guess I’ll be contented and stay here.”

The sun mounted toward its zenith as New Jersey unfolded below them and the hangars at Lakehurst grew from tiny dots into good-sized mushrooms, outside which two silver ships were starting to take the air. By the time they were over the home of the naval aircraft, the Akron and Los Angeles were at the two thousand foot level and Captain Harkins radiophoned to both ships to decide on the formation. It was agreed that the Los Angeles would lead with the Akron next and the Goliath, the giant of them all, bringing up the rear, a pageant of the progress of aircraft.

The Los Angeles, slimmer and more graceful than the bulkier Akron or the giant Goliath, took the lead and the other two ships fell in behind.

It was a magnificent fleet that paraded over the Jersey flats that spring morning. To the east rolled the sparkling waters of the Atlantic while ahead of them loomed the spires of Greater New York.

The aerial argosy swung out over the bay, dipped in salute as it circled the Statue of Liberty, and then proceeded over the Battery and up the man-made canyon that is known the world over as Broadway.

Whistles of tugs and ferryboats blended in a concerted shriek of welcome and the streets below were thronged with humanity. Traffic in down town New York was at a standstill, tied up so hopelessly that it took hours to get it moving again.

They passed the mooring mast atop the Empire State at fifty miles an hour and then dipped slightly to the west to look down on Times Square. Central park displayed its greenery ahead of them and in another minute they were over Riverside drive and the Hudson.

Captain Harkins shifted the course and they turned and cut across Manhattan to give Brooklyn a view of the Goliath. For an hour and a half the three dirigibles zig-zagged back and forth over the metropolitan area. At one-thirty the command was given to start for home and with the final scream of whistles in their ears, the crew of the Goliath watched the mighty buildings of Manhattan disappear behind them.

Lunch was served while they were on the return to Lakehurst, where the Los Angeles and the Akron left them and they proceeded on toward Bellevue accompanied only by the four army planes.

Captain Harkins set a bee-line course that took them over New Jersey, west of Philadelphia, and across the heart of the mountains to their sheltered valley home in Kentucky.

Bert had obtained a mid-afternoon weather forecast from Washington, which he handed to Andy. The prediction was none too favorable. A storm had swept down off the Great Lakes and was now over Ohio. If it continued its present rate and course it would bisect the path of the Goliath. Andy passed the forecast on to Captain Harkins, whose lips tightened into a firm, straight line.

“Looks like we’ll be in for some nasty weather before we get home,” observed the commander of the Goliath. “Keep in touch with Washington, Bert, and advise me at once of any changes in the weather report.”

Captain Harkins ordered the speed stepped up until they were doing an even ninety an hour. In calm weather they would have been averaging a hundred but a westerly wind cut them down ten miles an hour.

Clouds rolled out of the west and the sun was obscured by the drifting banks of gray.

Bert came back to the control room to say that weather reports now indicated spotty weather all of the way home with local showers and thunderstorms.

They ran under a bank of rain clouds and the Goliath got its first taste of dirty weather, but it rode through the shower without difficulty, the rain shooting off its metalized sides in steady sheets.

Dusk found them two hundred miles from Bellevue with storms all around them. Lightning was flashing steadily in the northwest and the sky was full of wind squalls with the clouds rolling and twisting in an ominous manner.

“Just the kind of a night for a tornado,” Andy heard his father tell Captain Harkins in a low voice. The Commander of the Goliath, his face lined with worry, nodded.

The storm was thickening. It would break at any minute. They had stuck to their course as long as they dared before Captain Harkins gave the orders to run before the storm. The Goliath heeled sharply as a vicious gust of wind caught it broadside while it was circling. Then they were running into the southeast with the storm behind them.

Electrical interference was so heavy that it was impossible for Bert to communicate with the Washington weather bureau and learn the conditions they were running into. They simply had to take the course of the least resistance and hope that they could escape the fury of the elements.

For half an hour the Goliath sped through the heavy night. Rain beat against its silvered sides and flashes of lightning cast their glare over the boiling clouds. If the big airship returned to Bellevue without mishap it would certainly have won its laurels on its maiden flight.

The weather was getting thicker and Captain Harkins ordered Andy and Serge into the observation cockpits on top of the big bag.

“Keep in constant touch with me,” he ordered. “If you see a break in the storm let me know and we’ll try and run through it.”

From their lonely posts atop the dirigible Andy and Serge, clad in oilskins, braced themselves against the heat of the rain and the rush of the wind. With headsets on their ears and transmitters slung across their chests, they kept in touch with the main control room. All around them was a sea of churning clouds, rolling thunder, bolts of glittering blue and through it all the steady beat of the powerful engines as they drove the Goliath on through the night.

They were at the seven thousand foot level and Captain Harkins warned them he was going to attempt to get above the storm. The nose shot skyward and they pushed their way up through the clouds. Eight, nine and ten thousand feet dropped away, but even at that level the storm raged. There was no escape. Flickers of static played along the runway atop the Goliath and Andy was grateful that the gas cells were filled with the non-explosive helium.

At ten thousand feet the Goliath was making the fight for its life. Grim-faced engineers watched over their engines while in the control room Captain Harkins and Andy’s father stood side by side as they guided the great airship through the storm. The army officers, grouped close behind, watched every move for their lives hung in the balance that fateful night. Would the storm rip the Goliath asunder and drop it, a broken, lifeless thing, like it had the Shenandoah? Would their fate be the same? Those questions were in the mind of every man.

The storm increased in violence and Andy, atop the dirigible, felt the frame trembling under the terrific blows from the wind. He looked about desperately for some break in the clouds that would let them through to safety. The Goliath was making a brave battle but it was only a question of how long it could stand such a battering.

Bert, down in the control room, was on the other end of the phone, and the news he gave Andy was none too encouraging. No. 5 engine had cut out. The crew reported a burned out bearing, which meant that the engine was disabled for the remainder of the trip. Ten minutes later No. 9 on the opposite side developed trouble and had to be shut down. They were cruising with 10 motors running, ample power for any average storm but this spring disturbance of the weather was anything but usual.

An occasional brilliant glare of lightning would reveal Serge at his observation post further back along the top and Andy wondered how the young Rubanian was faring. If they could only locate a break in the clouds. Andy’s eyes swept the darkness again but it was to no avail.

The Goliath heeled savagely and he clung to the edge of the cockpit. They were knifing off to the right. The speed of the motors had increased. Could the men in the control room have sighted a break or had Serge’s eyes been keener than his own?

The Goliath was running for its life, pulsating to the throbbing power of the engines. They must be doing well over a hundred, thought Andy.

The clouds ahead thinned; the rain lessened, the force of the wind abated and in ten more minutes they were out of the main storm, sailing through a light spring shower. Andy dropped down on a seat in the observation cockpit. He was exhausted for he had fought every step with the Goliath and now that safety was at hand he felt a great wave of fatigue sweep over him.

After a five minute rest he descended into the heart of the dirigible and then made his way forward to the control room. Captain Harkins was still at the controls but the lines of his face had softened.

“We’re through the worst of it,” he told Andy. “We’ll loaf along here until the weather north and west of us clears enough so we can get back to Bellevue. You take charge while I go back for a bite to eat. I’m pretty much all in.”

All Andy knew was that they were somewhere over the western part of the Carolinas, and he let the Goliath ease through the night at a bare thirty-five miles an hour. The rain ceased and the moon was struggling to break through the clouds.

Bert had managed to get in touch with Washington and allayed the fears of officials at the capital. He also learned that the four army planes which had accompanied the Goliath had landed safely in West Virginia. This was good news to Andy, who in his concern over the safety of the Goliath had forgotten the army flyers.

Serge came down from his observation post and Captain Harkins praised him highly.

“It was Serge,” he told Andy, “who spotted the break in the storm. If it hadn’t been for his keen eyes one guess is as good as another as to where we would be now.”

By ten o’clock the storms had drifted away and they were free to start the return to Bellevue. The trouble on No. 9 motor had been repaired and with only No. 5 out, they sped toward home.

The lights of Bellevue came into view at eleven-fifteen and ten minutes later the Goliath drifted down to stick its squat nose into the automatic coupling on the portable mooring mast. Eager hands steadied the great ship as it was towed into the hangar and lodged securely in its berth.

Before leaving the hangar, a thorough inspection was made to ascertain if any sections had undergone damage during the storm. The outer fabric was in perfect condition and outside of the failure of No. 5 motor, the Goliath had won its laurels in its first long flight.