Airship City

Chapter 24

On the way up to the deck, Mo explained that he sometimes helped the mechanics who looked after the squadron of Spitfire fighter planes that Aeropolis used for air defence.

“I’m good mates with one of the pilots. Andy Rowan. His dad owns the engineering firm where my uncle is the foreman. He sometimes takes me up in the Spitfire trainer, if he’s not busy.”

“So you’ll let me go in your place?”

Mo nodded. “Looks like you haven’t got anything else to do, with Harry working.”

“Thanks, Mo. I really appreciate this.” Joseph was actually feeling a bit apprehensive about the flight, but he wanted to encourage Mo’s latest behaviour.

“Ah, it’s nothing really. To be honest, I’m a bit bored of flying now.” Mo gave a short laugh. “Anyway, when we get to the hangars, just let me find Andy first and have a chat with him, all right?”

Joseph nodded his agreement, and waited on one side of the enormous main hangar opening. After a few minutes, a pilot in a flyer’s jumpsuit came striding up, beaming at him.

“Hello, young man. I’m Andy Rowan. Are you ready to do some flying?”

Joseph put out his hand in greeting. “Joseph Samson, sir. Pleased to meet you!”

“Please call me Andy,” replied the young ace, with a grin. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

Joseph nodded happily, trotting to keep up as Andy walked rapidly across the deck towards a Spitfire that had an extra canopy behind the usual one. A double ladder gave access to the open cockpits.

“Climb in the front seat,” said Andy, as he made his way up the rear ladder. When Joseph got the top of his ladder, Andy was waiting to help him in.

“There’s no floor, Andy!” The interior of the cockpit was an incomprehensible collection of functional controls, pipes, switches, and indicators, and below the seat was nothing but the exposed structure of the airframe.

“Just step down onto the seat, then put your feet onto the rudder pedals as you sit down. You don’t need a floor!”

Joseph did as he was told, placing his feet in the silver stirrup-like structures that he presumed must be the pedals. Soon he was strapped into the front seat. It was a tight fit, and his head, clad in a leather flying helmet, only just barely cleared the canopy when it slid closed. 

“You should have a good view from there,” said Andy, squeezing in behind him. “Just don’t touch any of the controls! Move your feet lightly when you feel the pedals move.” He slid his own canopy closed. With a whine from the starter motor the Rolls-Royce Merlin engine clattered into life, and they were taxiing towards the runway threshold. 

After lining up on the runway centre line, Andy braked the aircraft to a smooth halt. Then the loping idle of the big V-12 rose to a roar, the whine of the supercharger clearly audible in the cabin, as the airflow from the propeller whooshed over the canopy. The little aircraft was vibrating, shaking, virtually straining at the leash. Then Andy released the brakes, and Joseph was pressed back into his seat by the sudden acceleration. The fighter raced off down the runway, nose pointing at the sky until the tailplane reached flying speed and lifted the tail off the deck. 

Then Joseph could see the end of the runway, approaching at alarming speed. But Andy held the plane firmly on the deck. Faster and faster they went, racing headlong to the edge, and beyond it was nothing but blue sky. Joseph’s heart hammered in his chest. Seemingly at the last possible second, Joseph saw the stick move back sharply between his knees, and the plane rotated nose up and zoomed off the deck like a homesick angel.