A lovely little ditty.

Thanks for reading.

Keep your sightglass full, your firebox trimmed, and your water iced.

KJ

Secrets of the L49

Found this fascinating description of the interior of the downed German airship L49.

Enjoy
Keep your sightglass full, your firebox trimmed and your water iced.
KJ

From the ‘Nottingham Evening Post,’ 1st November 1917.


In the early hours of 20th October 1917, disorientated, suffering from airsickness, with only two engines working and attacked by Nieuports of Escadrille N.152, Zeppelin L49 came down in France.

It was examined in great detail by the British and French and an account of an inspection by an American “air expert” was published on 1st November 1917.

SECRETS OF THE L49.

FINDINGS OF AN AMERICAN EXPERT.

FROZEN WATER BALLAST.

An air expert of the Chicago Daily News, who visited the wrecked Zeppelin at Bourbonne-les-Bains, has communicated the following account of his impressions to the Press Association’s correspondent.

“Having just visited Zeppelin L49, which fell five kilometres from here, I have been struck by a number of facts. In the tanks there was still a large amount of petrol. The alcoholised water used for fluid ballast was frozen in the reservoirs, and in the 19 balloons of goldbeaters’ skin there was a great lack of gas. The only conclusion to be drawn from these facts was that the Zeppelin’s descent was caused by want of gas, and the impossibility of dropping ballast owing to the freezing of the water.

“Two meteorological authorities have informed me that the Zeppelin’s commander was, in all probability, deceived by the heavy wind like a mistral, which was more violent at the higher than at the lower altitudes. The highest altitude shown by the instruments was 7,000 metres, and rising to this height no doubt resulted in loss of hydrogen, and caused the liquid ballast to freeze. After descending to a lower altitude the commander was unable to reduce his ballast but went on in the hope of reaching Germany. French fighting machines, however, forced him to land. Hoping to set his machine on fire, the commander fired his pistol at the Zeppelin until stopped by a French sentinel. Fortunately he did not succeed. His only remark was ‘As you please, but I thought I had the right to destroy my machine when I surrendered.’

“COMFORTLESS CONVEYANCE.

“I went all over the captured airship from the turret platform to the cars. In the wireless telegraphy compartment I found some dry biscuits marked ‘Hanover,’ but was afraid to taste them for fear of poison.

“After all I had heard of Zeppelin comfort, I was surprised not to find much. On the contrary, I should not care to pass a night in one, even for the pleasure of bombing Berlin. The means of communication in the interior of the envelope consisted of an aluminium bridge 4½ inches wide of very fragile construction made of small pieces of aluminium and thin wood, with wire here and there to assist the passenger in keeping his balance. The sides of the bridge were merely waterproofed cloth – nothing else between the passenger and the ground beneath, but all, perhaps, that was necessary. But, still, I confess to being somewhat surprised at the makeshift appearance of the construction and workmanship, of which any English or French workman would have been ashamed.

“One notable exception, however, was the wireless room and installation, which closely resembled that of a transatlantic line of the latest type. According to a French expert who was sent to examine the apparatus, it included several new features of some importance. He assured me that in spite of the operator’s attempt to destroy the machinery before abandoning the ship, it would be possible to reconstruct the apparatus completely,

“Forward of the wireless room, the roomy bridge on the control station was furnished with a fibre mat, and with thick glass wind-shields on all sides. On the right and in the centre were two wheels for the elevating and directing rudders respectively, like those on a small motor yacht. A chart table stood on the right. Square stools, with rounded corners, made of thin wood, were used here elsewhere. They were so lightly made that when a French officer stood on one in order to reach the envelope it collapsed.

“IN THE ENGINE-ROOM.

“Aft of the wireless room stands the engine-room, where the largest of the five motors actuates the direct drive propeller. This is reached by a ladder which leads to a narrow path, 500 or 600 feet long, within the envelope. On the engine-room floor there was a folded parachute, which looked as though the engineer wore it attached to his shoulders until the moment when the commander decided to surrender.

“From this main motor-room, where the engine is twice the power of the others, I walked inside the envelope along a frail, narrow path of little sticks mounted on aluminium to a point where two diverging paths led to the nacelles.


“On the way I passed a tube of balloon cloth, enclosing an extremely light aluminium ladder, with rungs as far apart as possible, and leading to this was a wooden ladder reminiscent of those used for toy dog performances, but probably much less strong. I climbed uncertainly some 40 rungs to the top of the envelope, where was a small gun platform for two men and machine guns. I noticed here that the top of the envelope was almost white, shading gradually into black towards the lowest part.

“The aft nacelles, one on each side, were reached by ladders about eight feet long leading down from the interior of the envelope. Each of these contain two motors driving a single propeller – two motors being employed so that only one may be used on each side if it is desired to economise fuel.

“Inside the envelope are 19 balloons of goldbeaters’ skin, with smaller balloons built into them for the purpose of taking any overflow of gas, or if required they can be inflated by means of valves which are controlled from the navigation bridge forward.

“The envelope also contains water tanks of canvas, with a capacity of two hundred litres each, evenly distributed. This water ballast can also be controlled from the bridge. There are besides 16 petrol tanks of very solid construction, so arranged that any motor can be fed from any one tank. The rest of the contents include some spare parts, hammocks for the crew, which were probably not much used this last journey, and the aluminium framework that gives the envelope its shape.”
 
Image: 'The Sphere,' 3rd November 1917.

Madame Saffron Hemlock is proud to announce...

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Fill 'er up!

This photo shows the partially inflated gas bags of the British R33.

 From FB user Rick Zitarosa: "Gas lines at Lakehurst could provide 100,000 cubic feet per hour at 1-inch of pressure. Weather was a factor on working conditions and while the wartime-size ships could be inflated in a day or two Harold Dick advises that the inflation of the LZ129 commenced in mid January and took over 2 weeks. A critical juncture in the birth/life of a ship because in addition to having the riggers moving about attending to snags/folds/possible tears it was also necessary to ensure even inflation of adjacent cells and the proper addition and movement of sandbags, ballast, etc as the ship became buoyant."

Of course our ship, the HMAS Velvet Brush is inflated with steam, so while it wouldn't be quite so dangerous it would have been very hot!

The picture was posted on the awesome FB group Airships, Dirigibles and Zeppelins
There is an amazing collection of photos and expertise in that group.
Highly recommended is you are looking for an almost daily hit of Airship Wonderfulness.

Thanks for reading.

Keep your sightglass full, your firebox trimmed, and your water iced.
KJ

Dog and Pony...

Here is the third and last part of the Epilogue to my serial story Ice and Clockwork.

Previously, Lt Cmdr Maxwell MacDonald-Smythe (Max) having recently returned to England after being shipwrecked on the coast of Norway, as detailed in Lost at Sea,  has been given command of the Velvet Brush. However his ship is still undergoing refit at the EAD's airdock.

You can start from the beginning of the Epilogue here.

Enjoy Part III

Ice and Clockwork Epilogue

A serial story from The Airship's Messdeck.

Part III
  by Kevin Jepson

EAD London

Max enters the headquarters building of the EAD, brushing the dirty grey snow off his uniform greatcoat as he does so. It is a cold, snowy winter day in London. There has been no sign of the sun for a week and everything is chill, damp and grey. Max rubs his lame leg, which always aches in cold damp weather. The entrance hall of the headquarters building is busy with clerks, officers, and couriers heading into and out of the entrance hall.

Probably always like this nowadays, not like when we worked here all them years ago.

An orderly comes up to Max and salutes, "Lt Commander MacDonald-Smythe?"

"Aye that be me."

"This way Sir, they are waiting for you in the meeting room Sir"

Following the orderly as he threads through the rushing crowd, Max wonders who he is going to be meeting with this time.

The meeting room is a large office at the end of the corridor with a heavy oak and brass bound door. Two marine sentries stand guard beside the door and salute Max. The orderly opens the door and ushers Max inside.

The center of the room is filled with a large heavy table crowded with reports and papers. Admiral Wilcox is seated at the head of the table. Max comes to attention and salutes. The Admiral stands and says "Ah Gentlemen, and Ladies, Lt Commander MacDonald-Smythe has joined us. Please stand easy Commander and take a seat. The orderly will take your coat."

"Thank you Sir"

Max sits at the only empty seat at the table. Looking around he sees that the 10 or so men and women around the table are a mix of civilian contractors and Naval personnel. He recognizes the gruff lead of the dockyard hands, and the dockyard boffin who accepted the Velvet Brush from him more than a year ago now. Max smiles and gets a nod and smile in return. The officers seated next to Admiral Wilcox are full four stripe Captains, who Max does not recognize. At the end of the table are several ladies. one of them Max recognizes as Madame's cousin, the one with a clay pipe and bowler hat, she smiles at Max and gives the hand sign to 'fly level'. The same sign Mary had given him when he had been getting ready to present his report, in this same building, after the attack on the ship in Portsmouth two years ago.

So many miles under yer keel since then Max me lad.

Admiral Wilcox rises from his seat and says "Ladies and Gentlemen I want to thank you all for braving the cold and taking time from your extensive duties to join us. We need to make sure everyone is on the same page with respect to the status of the Velvet Brush. As you may know, Lt Commander MacDonald-Smythe has been given command and is currently collecting his crew. Their Lordships are anxious that we release the Velvet Brush back to the Admiralty as soon as we can do so. With that in mind I would like to call upon each of the department heads to make their reports please, starting with the Dock Master."

For the next hour and a half Max sits quietly as each section head presents their report on the status of the his ship, the Velvet Brush.

My Ship! Never thought I would ever get formal command being an engineer and all, but a command is a command, even if it is probably temporary till they assign another four striper.

As the meeting progresses it becomes apparent that it may still be some time before the Velvet Brush can be formally turned over to the Admiralty.

Well, more time to try and understand all the changes they've made to her I suppose.

When it is Max's turn he tells them that he has most of the old crew collected from their various postings, that the deck crew was being assembled and that the Marine contingent was mostly complete awaiting the return of its senior NCO from his "detached service" with Naval Intelligence.

After everyone has given their report Admiral Wilcox rises again and summarizes the reports for the clerks to record the status. He then dismisses everyone suggesting that they partake of the excellent luncheon laid on for them upstairs.

Max rises to leave as well but Admiral Wilcox calls out to him. "A word Commander if you please."

"Of course Sir."

"Since it appears that you will have to wait a while longer till you can get your fine ship in the air, there is another duty you will need to perform for us."

"Sir?"

"You have heard about the new 'Spread the Wealth' plan that her Majesty's government has devised?"

"No Sir, I have not been following the press I'm afraid Sir."

"Ah, quite, mostly drivel frankly, alas this is not. Somebody in the Government has decided that it is not right for Her Majesty's Military to keep all its technical discoveries to itself. So they have requested that we start releasing the results of our experimental work to the public."

"Is that wise Sir?"

Admiral Wilcox snorts. "No it is not! However the reasoning is not all bad, if our industry can make use of these developments then our Empire will still stay ahead of our competitors even if in the process we give up some of our military lead."

"What does that have to do with me Sir?"

Admiral Wilcox sighs. "We need you to start the process of releasing the information deemed no longer secret."

"Me Sir? How am I to do that."

"Dog and Pony show I'm afraid."

"Ah"

"Ha, don't look like you are going to a courts marshal commander, it isn't that bad. I understand you are an excellent speaker on technical matters. Sir Gordon told me of your presentation here after the attack on your ship in Portsmouth. You don't have to worry about what technical information you will give out, that has been prepared for you already. All you have to do is give the impression that we are complying with the Government's request."

"Impression Sir?"

"Dog and Pony commander, dog and pony. We are going to release information and technologies that we know are already compromised so we loose nothing but may actually gain if our businesses can make some use of it."

"Aye Sir, understood. I'll do my best Sir."

"Excellent. Your first event is at the London Air Services association Monday next. Faraday has all the details and the documentation for you. Now let us get some of that luncheon before everything is gone eh?"

"Aye aye Sir!"

You can read the transcript of Max's speech here.

==========================

Thanks for following along with the adventures of Max and his crew from the Velvet Brush.

I hope you have enjoyed them.

There are many adventures yet to tell.

Thanks for reading and as always...
Keep your sightglass full, your firebox trimmed, and your water iced.
KJ

The Message

Previously, Max was called to the EAD for a meeting with the current head of that organization.
Max and his crew have only been in England for a short while after being rescued from their adventures as told in my serial tale Lost at Sea.

Here is part two of the Epilogue.

Enjoy
Keep your sightglass full, your firebox trimmed, and your water iced.
KJ

Ice and Clockwork Epilogue

A serial story from The Airship's Messdeck.

Part II
  by Kevin Jepson

Max enters his room at the Officer's Hostel and closes the door behind him. It is the same room he had before taking the old Doris north in the dead of the previous winter. He drops the folder with his orders, and the envelope from Mary, down on the desk and sits on the bed. Somebody had set a fire in the small grate so the room is just warm enough to be comfortable.

Well here we are again Max you old salt, back in the same hostel waiting to get on with another mission and just as confused as before.

He takes off his jacket and cap and tosses them onto the chair, lies back on the bed and stares at the tin ceiling. The dim watery light of a winter London day gives the room a slightly misty look.

It's as if I never left for God's sake, like all that happened was a dream or something. I half expect to see the rat ticking on the window sill.[1] But you are sitting up in Scapa Flow where I left you when we sailed out into the North Sea in the the Argo all those months ago. I wonder if yer still ticking you little clockwork bugger.

Some things had changed though. The young seaman Jones had been assigned to a cargo airship carrying supplies up to that same base at Scapa Flow, and the old pensioner had gone to his rest some months before.

Max smiles as he remembers Jones in all his finery striding off to meet Daphne for tea at Lady Formingham's London house...

Max looks over at the thick folder of paper on the desk and sighs.

Ah, Mary... Well, nothing for it, best find out what you has to say.

He gets up and pulls the envelope out of the folder. Looking at it carefully he can see that the doodle of the pelican crosses the seal of the envelope.

Clever Mary, nobody could open this without me knowing. Not that Admiral Chicheley's boys couldn't read it through the paper and all. No, if they had gotten their hands on this I would never have received it. Unless they want me to get it that is. Odd that Admiral Wilcox would give me this while telling me that I am still forbidden any contact!

Taking a letter opener from the desk he carefully opens the envelope and takes out the letter and begins to read it.
----
My Dear Maxwell
I do not know if you will ever see this.
I fear that you may be lost in that awful storm, the worry is horrible.
Gordon has been almost frantic about it too. He would send everything he has to find you if he could but there are so many lost his resources are strained to the limit.
I have sent this note by Daphne's beau, the young lad you so graciously helped to make a good impression before you left. He flies on the supply ships that bring us our regular supplies. I told him to give this to Sir James if he could and no other.
Sir James is an old friend of Gordon's and though he is constrained as much by Naval Intelligence as anybody he can be trusted to pass this along if you ever return.
On that wondrous and happy day I hope you can read this safely and know that I have not stopped thinking of you since you sailed away on that old trawler.
Your friend always.
Mary

P.S.
I know that SHE can read this but perhaps others may not, even the pelicans on the Thames can keep their secrets.
RjIj* ufnJ* mABh* aKxt* lFrv* ztey* jnfn* OtGi* wisy* wlyx* qDuy* )iIp* Fpfx* ucuv* ueIx* umrp* fDxx* orps* Awha* AqDl* yxmz* pfzx* wisH* !Eiv* uFys* sBcx* wJmA* Dwat* Ewsn* wuwD* llCk* bHpy* txvf* nMmA* BhaG* Jwuw* jtnJ* mqHc* qIBq* ljuf* nqqE* xciI* Cfz&* cUvu* Dlvd* znKx* qiBp* IpgG* Ccuv* uDlv* dznD* tFif* bFue* rxua* MEzl* jvaW* piA&* cBzB* euBc* oCJe* mBcj* Hpxq* npt+* pQAE* haoB* BmHv* /n2f* DH [2]

Max stares at the note for a long time before putting it back in the envelope and placing it carefully on the desk with the pelican doodle where he can clearly see it

Secrets indeed.

Mary what are you up to now...

Part III is here.

-------------------------------
[1]When the Velvet Brush was in the airdock at Portsmouth she was attacked by KARs (Kamikaze Automaton Rats) These were clockwork automatons loaded with explosives sent by an unknown assailant. The crew captured one and Madame Taxus-Hemlock converted it to be useful as a way to communicate securely between the members of the crew. You can follow the adventures of  Madame's assistant and protege Maddie Hatter in the Maddie Hatter series by Jayne Barnard where she has a clockwork bird created for her by Madame.
[2] As part of our role play we created a code system to use when communicating outside the group.
I will leave the decoding as an exercise for the reader.😉

Max and Mary

So after I posted the first part of the Epilogue to my Serial Tales, I was asked a couple of times about Max and Mary Formingham, the wife of Admiral Sir Gordon Formingham. As people suspected there is some history there.😎

In fact during our role playing Mary Formingham figured fairly prominently in Max's world and the story as it progressed. I wrote the following piece early on to give some context.

It needs a bit of a backstory to place it in the timeline.

If you have been following my serial stories, in Frozen Sky you may recall the conversation that Max had with his old shipmate from Esquimalt Lt John Barbesly. It was mentioned that after flying from Esquimalt in British Columbia all the way to Portsmouth in the winter the ship was attacked and badly damaged while in the Portsmouth Airdock!  The attack killed two of the crew and nearly killed the Captain. Naval Intelligence decided, in the interests of trying to catch the saboteurs, that they would let everyone think that the Captain had been killed too.

It is while working to repair the damage that the following episode occurs.

Enjoy
Keep your sightglass full, your firebox trimmed, and your water iced.
KJ

-------------------

An Interlude

From the Airship's Messdeck

------------------

Max is sitting at his desk in the engine room of the Velvet Brush after a long day working on repairs. He pulls a rum bottle out of the drawer and calls the Black Gang over for a drink.

"Right lads, that's it for today I think. Come and have a tot before we heads for the mess, eh?"

There follows a chorus of "Aye AYE Sir!" and a scramble to grab tin cups from the rack.

Max carefully pours out a shot of the thick navy rum into each cup. This is not Grog but the pure black rum from Jamaica, not a drop of water has ever touched it! Once everyone has their shot Max raises his mug.

"Gentlemen, I give you 'Our ships afloat and aloft.'"

Everyone says "Our ships!" and takes a sip. Nobody drinks the shot all at once, it's a waste of good rum to do that.

Watkins says "Sir, have you heard anything about the skipper?"

Max takes a quick look around to see if there is anyone other than his black gang about.

"Aye Watkins I has, I got word that the skipper is healing up pretty well considering, and he's as anxious to get ta grips with whoever done us as we be. Tough bastard he is, always was a bit of bear that one."

"You knew him before, right sir?" asks Simpson leaning on the generator casing.

"Aye lad, I did, that was nigh on 20 years ago now."

The black gang, recognizing the signs, begin to shift and slide into more comfortable positions.

Where to start Max me lad, where to start...

Max takes s sip of rum and stares off into the distance before starting.
-----
It was when I was newly appointed to the EAD, a shiny new single stripe Lieutenant I was, full of ideas and plans and all sorts of mischief. I was assigned as the aide to Admiral Gordon Formingham, now Sir Gordon, who was then in charge of the EAD. We worked long hours on some very novel ideas. In those days there was no shortage of ideas flying around, good and bad. The Airship service was still pretty new and nearly everything was experimental. The EAD was charged with sorting the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. To bring forward ideas worth testing and to try as much as possible to prevent expensive and impractical ones from wasting everybody's time. It was always a tug-a-war between the Surface navy, with their tried and true ironclads, and the Airship service, with our experimental, and very dangerous craft.

Well, one day the Admiral tells me that there are plans for an airship base to be built at Portsmouth and that he would be going down to personally oversee the survey of the potential site. Which was actually on the other side of the harbour from where we are today.

But there was a catch, you see Admiral Formingham had gotten married 6 months before and he was damned if he was going to leave his bride kicking her heels in London while he was in Portsmouth. So there was nothing for it but that Mrs Formingham would have to come along. With her would be her best friend and Ladies Maid Sylvia Baxter. The Admiral informed me in no uncertain terms that it would be my duty while in Portsmouth to insure that the Ladies needs were taken care of.

I was not pleased I can tell ya!

Here I was, full of the glory of my new shiny gold stripe, working for one of the most prestigious engineering and scientific organizations in the whole bloody Empire, and I was to be nursemaid to the Admiral's wife and her friend! Well there was nothing for it, thems the trials of being an aide I supposed.

So come the following Wednesday we loaded an enormous pile of baggage into a couple of carriages and headed for the station to get on a train for Portsmouth. The Admiral and his wife and maid got a private carriage of course, whereas I got a public compartment. I was sitting there feeling a might sorry for myself when this big Highlander, complete with bearskin hat and kilt comes in and sits down.

I didn't pay him much heed, but he kept staring at my cap badge.

"Are you in them airships laddy?" he says.

"Aye I am that" I says.

"Must be wonderful to fly eh?"

"It is indeed."

I must say I felt a bit disrespected as he didn't say "sir" and he could plainly see my gold stripe. Oh the trials of the newly minted officer.

We rode in silence for a while and then he introduced himself as Malcolm Lewis MacLeod, a sergeant in the Black Watch regiment. He was on his way, on leave, to go take in the sights of Southern England. He was also mad about airships. He knew quite a bit and was fascinated with their design and uses. Needless to say by the time we were approaching Portsmouth it was as if we had known each other for years. Well as such acquaintances go I expected to see him off the train and that would be that. At least he had made the trip to Portsmouth more pleasant than it would ordinarily have been.

However, as we were nearing the station Admiral Formingham, his wife, and her maid came down the corridor. I jumped up and saluted the Admiral. MacLeod did too, but much slower, slow enough to be obvious in fact.

Arrogant bugger I thought.

As the Admiral was telling me about the name of the hotel we would be staying at and what the rest of the day's schedule would likely be, I noticed that MacLeod was staring at Miss Baxter. He was staring at her so hard she started to blush and turn away to look out the window. He looked like he had been hit on the head with something hard, the poor bastard.

As the Admiral headed back to his compartment, followed by the ladies whispering and giggling as they went, I turned to look at MacLeod. His face was red and he was shaking his head. "My God man have ye no seen such beauty afore".

"Aye they are a fine couple of Ladies to be sure". (Definitely a good eye that one)

As we pulled into the station I said my farewells, wished him a pleasant leave and headed off to wrestle with the porters and all the baggage. I thought nothing of him further, just another passing acquaintance on a train.

The hotel in Portsmouth was pleasant, much better than any I had stayed at on my own penny that's for sure. And to be honest my duties were anything but onerous given the pleasant company and all. Mrs Formingham and her maid were always chattering and giggling but also very attentive when I tried to explain naval terms to them.

So it must have been a couple of days after our arrival when Admiral Formingham comes by and announces he is going to be off to the survey for a few days and would I please make sure that Mary and Sylvia have entertaining things to do.

Two days later and we had already toured the dockyard, the local churches, and seen one play.

What to do now?

"Maxwell" says Mary, "You were once a surface sailor if I recall, perhaps you could take Sylvia and I on a tour of the harbour. There are such big ships there and they are so hard to see from the seawall."

*The black gang looks at each other, "Mary" not "Mrs Formingham"*

"Aye ma'am we could do that, the weather is looking good." I says, and we head out to see about hiring a launch for the day. Well as luck would have it there were none for hire. But as we were walking back along the seawall who should we see standing in a row boat at the dock side but Malcolm MacLeod, in full highland finery. Every button polished so that it fairly gleamed in the hazy light.

He waves and haloos until we come up to him. Whence he makes a grand bow and proclaims "Dear Ladies, I understand ye are wishing 't go afloat 't see them big ships and such. An I hear you were unable to hire a vessel for your outing." At which he gives me a broad wink. "Well it seems as how some of these laddies were not actually using this fine vessel and decided I could use it. Now not being a sailor I will now turn command over to my mate Maxwell for our voyage? What say you laddy shall we sail the briny with these fine Ladies in company"

"MacLeod you would make a grand Pirate and all!" says I and we promptly board the boat. I was not at all convinced that we wouldn't soon have the constabulary down on us for stealing it so rowed forth with gusto.


Now that was a picture in the sternsheets it was. There was MacLeod in all his finery flanked on one side by Sylvia looking very coy indeed and on the other by Mary with that fine straightforward look of hers. MacLeod turned his whole attention to Sylvia who fairly glowed in the light of his buttons.

We had a very pleasant row amongst the great ships and when we finally arrived back at the landing we were greeted by a couple of very angry looking sailors. MacLeod told them off broadly, and then quietly tossed them a sovereign with a wink, and we headed back to the hotel.

That my lads was the start of many an adventure I can tell you. Mary, Sylvia, MacLeod and I were inseparable. MacLeod even got himself seconded to the Marines at the EAD for a while and we had many a lark there the four of us.

*Knowing winks and smiles amongst the Black Gang but Max doesn't seem to notice*

*Max pauses and stares into his mug for a second then shakes his head*

Well, all good things lads all good things.

When I was assigned to the old Pelican I lost track of that Scottish bugger. Didn't see him again for many years and by then he was an Instructor of Marines and out ranked me by a long shot. Then I didn't see him again till he became the Skipper of our ship in Esquimalt. Strange how things go round like that eh?

Poor Sylvia, I don't know what ever happened between them, I never asked. I figured he'd tell me sometime.

When I saw her at Mary's...

*Max looks around at the attentive faces and coughs*
-----
"Ah... Sir Gordon's, in London, she was beside herself with grief at the thought that the skipper had been killed. Broke my heart to know he was still alive an not be able to tell her it did."

"Well lads that's enough yarning, they'll have given our meals away by the time we gets there so... Watch below!"

"Watch Below!" and all the Black gang crowd up the ladder an head towards the Last Step[1] and their dinner.

Max pours himself another shot of rum and leans back in his chair.

"Aye that were the time of yer life that were, Max me lad, and that's a fact."

Continue on to Part II of the Epilogue here.
----------------------------------
1 The "Last Step" is the entrance to the airship and if you walked out while the airship was flying it would be the last step you ever took!