Pursuit Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Katie met with Commander Rosendahl before a crackling fire in the parlour. No sooner had they settled into their chairs, than the mink got right down to business.

"Miss McA..." he started to say, then stopped himself with a self-conscious grin, "Excuse me, it's Your Grace now, isn't it?"

"Only to another Brit, Commander." she answered, too glad to see him to be annoyed at his false start.

"All right," he said, nodding, "As you may be aware, I'm still very much involved with the United States Navy's airship program. Now, the Navy is also aware of your plans to try and acquire the R-100." He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table, "And I want to tell you right now that if the British government isn't impressed with the her, WE are. In fact, we're so impressed, that I have been authorized on behalf of the Navy Department to make you a proposition regarding the R-100."

"What sort of proposition?" asked Katie, at once wary and intrigued.

The mink responded by removing a thick envelope from the interior of his jacket and laying it on the table top

"In exchange for allowing the United States Navy to have access to the R-100's technical specifications, and letting us examine her at close quarters, we are prepared to supply you with helium gas to inflate her, at no charge."

It took all of Katie’s self control to keep from throwing her arms around the mustelid’s neck.

Except...

"Commander," she said, forcing her tone to remain neutral, "I hope you'll forgive me, but that offer sounds a little TOO good to be true. Even I know that helium gas costs ten times as much as hydrogen."

"Not any more, Miss MacArran." said Rosendahl, grinning, "There've been some huge deposits of helium discovered in Texas and Montana over the past year. So much helium has been found in fact, that the Navy is already gearing up to build a sister ship to the USS Akron."

"That why the US Navy’s so interested in the R-100?" Katie asked. The mink nodded at once.

"Yes. You see, it’s not just because the R-100 is such a superb design, although she is, make no mistake about that. It’s because she was built so well at such a relatively low COST."

This was something Katie could more than understand. With the onset of the Depression, Washington was taking paring knives to ALL it’s military projects.

"Well," she answered, "First of all, I have to get Whitehall to agree to not to demolish the R-100 before I can make any sort of arrangement with the US Navy. With your offer of helium to inflate her, those chances are greatly enhanced. Nonetheless, I think it would be highly imprudent of me to make any sort of formal agreement to that effect just yet."

"Yes, of course," said Rosendahl, nodding. He had clearly expected this very response, "At the very least we should not enter into any kind of compact without legal counsel being present."

"Exactly." Katie responded, "But having said that, let me offer a few preliminary thoughts on the matter. In order to fly on helium, the R-100 is going to have to be expanded and fitted with a new gas cell. Helium has only what, 95% of the lifting capacity of hydrogen? And it's also much heavier. The good news there is that if...excuse me, WHEN I acquire the R-100, I plan to have her refitted anyway."

She went on from here to describe her plans for the dirigible. Rosendahl listened while twirling a pencil in his fingers, but with far less of the incredulity that had marked faces of every other fur to whom she had thus far confided her plan; a hardly surprising reaction, since what she was proposing was to equip the R-100 in a very similar manner to the U.S.S. Akron...and the mink said as much to her when she concluded.

"And that," said Katie, "brings me to my next idea. What about flying the R-100 to Lakehurst and having the refit done there, with the Navy's assistance? By the time the work is completed, you'll have a thorough knowledge of her design specs...much more than you could ever obtain otherwise."

Commander Rosendahl leaned quickly backwards, blinked, and widened his eyes. Then he leaned forward again and puffed out his cheeks.

"That's a...Helluv’ an offer, Miss MacArran, but I absolutely don't have the authority to accept it on my own. Have to clear it with both Admiral Moffet and Mr. Litchfield first...and that would be just for starters." These were, respectively, the head of the U.S. Navy's airship program and the president of the Goodyear Tire & Rubber Company, the Navy's prime contractor for it's dirigibles.

"Of course, Commander," said Katie, "But as I pointed out a moment ago, we're not in a position here to make any formal agreements yet anyway."

The hardest part of the negotiations was keeping them a secret from Lord Casterley; Katie had been incredibly lucky that Commander Rosendahl's visit to Kensington had escaped the cat's notice, and she knew damn well she could not count on Fortune’s favor in that regard forever. Thus, all discussions were conducted inside the American Embassy, with Katie, Eamon, and their solicitor were always brought inside by an official car, which always picked them up at a different location.

Once the negotiations had commenced however, they proceeded both swiftly and smoothly. Katie's suggestion for having the refit done at the Lakehurst Naval Air Station was agreed to almost at once. And the response to her request to use the Navy's new dirigible base at Manila was met almost with out and out enthusiasm.

"A perfect chance for our ground-crew in Manila to learn how to handle an airship before the Akron takes to the air." Commander Rosendahl explained. ( The American dirigible wasn't due to be christened until the first part of August.)

The only stumbling block was the speed with which Katie proposed to have the refit done. Even with the extra work that would be required to convert the R-100 to helium, she still held out for six weeks. The Navy insisted on six months.

They finally settle on three months.

The agreement signed between The International Dirigible Company, Ltd. and the United States Navy was contingent on Katie's being able to convince both the British public and the British Government to let her acquire the airship, R-100.

Towards that end, Katie went into a huddle with her advisors. When they were finished, it was her own idea that held the final sway.

Three days later, Katie MacArran, the 14th Duchess of Strathdern, was formally admitted to membership in the House of Lords. Her sponsors were her close friend, the Duke of Bedford, and the mercurial Lord Beaverbrook, yet another rival newspaper publisher. When word got out that Baron Beaverbrook, of all fursons, was going to sponsor Katie in Lords, it set tongues wagging from one end of the House to the other. All through the `Ban the Gasbags' controversy, the sea-mink had been firmly of the opinion that the R-100 must go. One the other paw, he was also known to roundly despise Lord Casterley...and to have been a champion of the Imperial Airship programme prior to the R-101 disaster. Furthermore in his own newspapers, he never stooped to the kind of fursonal attacks that his fellow publisher was leveling at Katie MacArran...and had been heard, at least once, to publicly excoriate the feline on the subject; "His Lordship is going much too far with this...much too far."

It was this, more than anything else that led to a packed House of Lords the day Katie formally entered the chamber. That, and the fact that she had been granted permission to address the House. New members usually gave their maiden speeches on non-controversial topics well after they had been seated. However, given the looming date of the R-100's demise, the privilege was not entirely unwarranted.

On the surface, what Katie was attempting appeared to be an unwise move. The upper house of the British Parliament was widely regarded as toothless when compared to the lower House of Commons, where all the real laws were made. On the other paw, the traditions of the House of Lords strictly forbade the kind of shouting downs and catcalls that so often punctuated a session of Commons. Like it or not, the Lords and Ladies would have to let her speak her piece uninterrupted. Furthermore, amongst the peers present today were some Britain’s leading industrialists and financiers; furs with a great deal of influence OUTSIDE of Parliament

More to the point, Katie knew that whatever transpired here today, the word would soon find it's way to both the House of Commons and the Air Ministry. And last but not least, she would finally get her chance to confront Lord Casterley face to face. She knew, as did every other peer, that the grey cat dared not make himself conspicuous by his absence when she spoke. If he did, it would be seen by all as a show of abject cowardice.

When she rose to ask permission to speak (after the brief ceremony of admission), Lord Casterley immediately subjected her to the most withering glare he could muster. Eager as she was to give it right back to him, Katie managed to resist the temptation as she stood in front of one of the plush benches, took a deep breath, and prepared to deliver the most important speech of her life.

"My Lord Chancellor," she began, speaking first to the ‘Woolsack’, so called because of the wool-sack cushion upon which the Lord Chancellor was seated, the symbol of British wealth, "Distinguished Lords and Ladies. I thank you all for the opportunity to address you today, so soon after my admission to this honourable House."

This was greeted by a light sprinkling of VERY polite applause. Katie smiled diplomatically and continued.

"I wish it to be known that I am not unsympathetic to the sentiments of both the British Public and His Majesty's Government regarding the R-100...but before she is deflated and broken up for scrap, I wish to make one final appeal to this House for her salvation."

She then launched into a litany of the R-101's faults versus the R-100's attributes. The former had been overweight, the latter had exceeded her projected lift capacity. The R-101 had crashed on her demonstration flight, the R-100 had completed hers with flying colors. The R-101 had been horribly over-designed. The R-100 was the acme of simplicity. The R-101 had been fitted with gas valves that leaked at the slightest provocation. The R-100 had not. Lastly, the R-101 had set off on her final journey "in weather in which I will never permit the R-100 to fly if, God willing, I am allowed to acquire her. I am not a politician seeking to enhance my stature, distinguished Lords and Ladies. I am both a pilot and an aeronautical engineer....and a mare who will have too much riding on the R-100 to risk losing her in bad weather, should His Majesty's Government decide in my favour."

At once, Lord Casterley was on his feet. "Will Her Grace, The Duchess of Strathdern yield?" he asked, or rather demanded in a voice frosted with vitriol.

Katie swallowed hard, and commenced to chant a silent mantra to herself. "Take-the-bait... Take-the-bait... Take-the-bait... Take-the-bait... Take-the-bait... Take-the-bait."

"I will so yield to the Right Honourable The Viscount Casterley." she said, crossing her fingers.

The cat rose, flexed his claws for a second, then hooked his thumbs in the pocket of his waistcoat and lifted his chin in the gesture of disdain for which he had long been noted.

"Her Grace the Duchess of Strathdern's points are all very well and good," he said, "But she forgets one salient fact. Both the R-101 AND the R-100 require massive amounts of hydrogen to remain aloft. Hydrogen." he paused here, allowing the word to hover over the house like a black cloud, "A gas that bursts into incandescence at the slightest provocation. One spark, distinguished Lords and Ladies." he said, raising a finger for emphasis, "One spark, and the R-100 will go the way of the R-101. Does Your Grace deny that?"

Actually, Katie could have denied it. Hydrogen was flammable all right, but not nearly as volatile as Lord Casterley was suggesting. During the Zeppelin raids on London in the First World War, it had taken the pilots of the Royal Flying Corps almost an entire drum of incendiary bullets to set one of the German raiders alight...and then only if they had concentrated their fire in a single location.

She did not bother to inform the House of this, however. She was too busy rejoicing inside.

"No," she said, in a voice that was almost sweet, "And that brings me to the crux of my proposal here today, distinguished Lords and Ladies...a proposal that, if the members will permit, I shall make by way of a demonstration." She looked down the length of the chamber, towards the pair of tall doors at it's end.

"My Lord Chancellor?" she said, "I ask that Mr. Nevil Shute Norway, former chief stress engineer for the R-100 be allowed to enter this chamber in order to assist me."

The Lord Chancellor, sitting gravely on the Woolsack, gave no indication that this was a somewhat unorthodox request, and merely put the question to the House, whose members were
sitting with rapt attention, a most unusual posture for them.

The motion was passed without objection, not even from Lord Casterley. Determined though he might be to see the R-100 reduced to scrap metal, he was still a cat...with all the natural curiosity that came with his species.

When Nevil Norway entered the chamber, the response was a near uproar. There, floating above the Aussie rabbit's grip, was a gaggle of brightly-coloured balloons.

"Huh," Katie heard someone murmur from the front row as Norway passed him by, "I always knew the House of Lords was becoming a blasted circus...but THIS is ridiculous."

Katie suppressed a chuckle while gesturing to the bunny as he came close.

"Nevil?" she said, "Give me the violet balloon, won't you?"

There was a great deal of confused muttering as Katie took the balloon and began to untie the string. When she produced a match and thumbed it alight, the hubbub became even more perplexed.

"This balloon," she said, holding the it aloft for all to see, "is filled with hydrogen."

And before anyone could react, she held the match up to the end of the balloon and released a stream of gas over the flame. With a sound like tearing linen, a cone of pale yellow fire spat from the match, jetting a good two feet into the air. Immediately, she waved out the match, and at the same time, Nevil Shute Norway popped the balloon and passed her another, this one blue in color.

"And this balloon," she said, speaking quickly before the House had time to regain it's faculties, "which you will note is also floating on it's tether, is instead filled with helium."

This time, when she began to undo the string, she was greeted with a cascade of protests and appeals to the Woolsack. Too late, she had already lit the match, and now she loosed the contents of the balloon against the flame.

And the match was promptly snuffed out.

Again, stunned silence...and again Katie moved quickly.

"I hope this Honourable House will forgive the somewhat theatrical way in which I made my demonstration...but I wanted it to be understood that unlike hydrogen, helium gas is not only NON flammable, but actually extinguishes fire. For it is helium gas that is at the heart of my proposal, distinguished Lords and Ladies."

There were more murmurs, and she saw several peers looking at each other. Near the back, she saw the Duke of Bedford grinning at her. He already knew what she was going to say.

"If His Majesty's Government will agree not to demolish the R-100, but instead allow me to acquire her as a private venture, I will agree, in writing and under whatever terms His Majesty's Government sees fit to set before me, to have her converted from a hydrogen airship into one lifted by helium."

"No!" shouted several members of the House, led by Lord Casterley...but only a few. The rest were either speaking to one another through cupped paws or looking thoughtful. Amongst the latter, she noted was Lord Beaverbrook

"If I may be so bold," she went on, "I will represent to this Honourable House that had the R-101 been inflated with helium rather than hydrogen, her crew and passengers would all be alive today." And looking directly at certain peer with her one blue eye, she could not resist adding, "As The Right Honourable the Viscount Casterley so correctly stated, it was not the crash or the R-101, but the fire that followed afterwards that tragically took their lives. Grant me permission to convert the R-100 to helium and for once and for all, you can lay to rest the fear that she will suffer the same fate as her sister ship."

The response to this was a great deal of murmured discussion...and a glare from Lord Casterley that would have blown Katie through the back wall of the House had there been such a thing as telekinesis.

And a low murmur from Nevil Shute Norway.

"Take that, you bastard."

"And there is still another advantage to helium." Katie went on, pretending to ignore the rabbit, "Not only is it an inert gas that smothers flame, but gas leaks in a helium dirigible are remarkably easy to detect....as I shall now demonstrate."

Taking another balloon from Nevil Norway, the piebald mare once again undid the string. This time however, instead of letting the gas out in a steady stream, she allowed it to escape slowly.

"This will also demonstrate that helium is also a non-toxic gas." she said, and then continued speaking while she brought the balloon closer and closer to her muzzle.

And as she did, Katie's voice became higher and higher in pitch, and more and more squeaky...as if she were shrinking like Alice after imbibing from the `drink me' bottle.

The effect on the Lords and Ladies was considerable. At first, a hubbub of fascination, which soon became salted with specks of titillation. Then the first rumbles of chuckling were heard throughout the chamber, followed by several short barks of genuine laughter, and finally true guffaws.

And when Katie had concluded the demonstration, she was actually greeted with a round of APPLAUSE.

But that wasn't nearly as gratifying as the horrified look on the face of Lord Casterley

And even worse was in store for the grey cat. Katie had not come into the House of Lords with intention of taking prisoners.

Not hardly.

"Perhaps," she said, "you'd like to see for yourselves." And nodding to Nevil Norway, she added, "Would you pass out some of the balloons to anyone who'd like to try, Nevil?"

Katie was mildly disappointed when the Lord Chancellor politely ruled that this was out of order. Looking truly disgruntled were some of the nearby peers, who felt that this was the most lively debate Lords had enjoyed in some years.

Throughout all of this merriment, Lord Casterley retained a stony, stoic countenance...but Katie could see his ears trying to swivel backwards. Finally, unable to endure the absurdity any longer, he leaped to his feet and roared, "This is outrageous!"

Roared? Actually, under the emotions of the moment, it was more akin to the squeal of tyres on pavement than the thunder of an engine. Comparisons were inevitable. Katie turned to the Woolsack again.

"I assure you, My Lord Chancellor, that I did not release any helium gas into the House, just now."

The Lord Chancellor's face was the only impassive one, as laughter rocked the House. Lord Castlerey's face flushed to such a bright shade of crimson, it was plainly visible through his fur. (The Duke of Bedford would later confide to Katie that he’d been certain His Lordship was having a stroke at that moment.)

For her, the best part was watching him stand there trying desperately not to shout an invective, for fear of what might come out.

"We've got him." she heard Nevil Norway saying under his breath.

Still keeping her gaze on the nearly apoplectic feline, Katie whispered out the side of her mouth.

"No, not yet."

She waited patiently for the laughter to subside, then spoke again...this time in a much more somber tone.

"Distinguished Lords and Ladies, my Lord Chancellor." she said, bowing her head in a small gesture of humility, "Before I go any further, there is one question which has not been asked of me, but which I feel must be addressed both here and now. And that question is this: WHERE shall I obtain the helium to inflate the R-100?"

She went on from there to describe her visit from Lt. Commander Charles Rosendahl, and the deal that he had proposed....exchanging helium for the R-100's technology. As she spoke, she could see Lord Casterley's tail twitching, and his face glowing like a kitten who had just found a bicycle under the Christmas Tree. Conversely, Nevil Norway's features were stretching into a mask of unmitigated horror.

What none of the Lords and Ladies could possibly have guessed was that the rabbit's look of apprehension was both wholly calculated and utterly feigned..

"Sooner later, they're going to find out about it anyway," Katie had explained to Eamon Mack and her other advisors, "So the thing to do is to tell them myself -- BEFORE anyone else thinks to ask, and right when I've got them in the frog of my hoof. If I do that, I'll be perceived as a mare so stoutly honesty, she'll risk queering her own plans rather than give even the appearance of deception."

"But Lord Casterley will pitch into you, the moment you do that." George Stafford had warned...and Katie had just smiled.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Truer words were never spoken. Even before Katie had finished, the cat was out of his seat and waving an angry paw in the air, "Will Her Grace yield? Will Her Grace YIELD?!"

"I shall," said Katie, nodding deferentially, and grinning inside. This time she knew His Lordship had taken the bait.

Lord Casterley hooked on thumb in his waistcoat, then leveled a quivering finger at Katie.

"Looks just like an inquisitor doesn’t he?" Nevil Norway whispered.

"Shhhh."

"So now..." said Casterley, lifting his chin in another gesture of fine hauteur, "So now Her Grace reveals her true colours. She would sell out the R-100, the symbol of our United Kingdom to a...a FOREIGN power. She would give away our British airship to the Americans...and for what?" He turned toward the galleries on the opposite side, raising both paws in an Evangelical gesture, "To satisfy her own selfish ambitions, my distinguished Lords and Ladies, to satisfy her own selfish ambitions. I say that the Her Grace Duchess of Strathdern is no true Briton, my esteemed Lords and Ladies..."

He went on in this vein for several more minutes. While Katie could see many of the members nodding in agreement, most of them were doing so only grudgingly...and quite a few were not. Many were tapping impatient fingers and several were even rolling their eyes. Lord Beaverbrook was merely rocking back and forth on his bench, flashing one of his mysterious and cryptic smiles.

"But then what can we expect of a mare whose family fortune is rooted wholly on the other side of the Atlantic?" Lord Casterley concluded, leveling the finger at her once again. “We all know that the MacArran distilleries make most of their money selling their wares to American bootleggers. What can we expect of a mare only HALF British by birth?"

There was more, but before Lord Castermere could quite get into it, the Lord Chancellor raised his voice.

"I would remind you, Your Lordship, that this is NOT the House of Commons." he said...and judging by the murmurs that followed most of the others in the chamber agreed.

"My Lord Chancellor," Katie said quietly, "I believe that I have the floor...do I not?" In truth, it was all she could do to keep from whinnying in triumph. Lord Casterley’s penchant for making tactless comments when his blood was up was almost mythical. When Katie had first risen to speak, she had been hoping for, even counting on this. But never in her wildest expectations had she imagined that His Lordship would make THIS much of an ill-advised statement. Ian MacArran. The 12th Duke of Strathdern had been far from the only member of the British peerage to take an American wife. And more than a few of those others, and/or their progeny, were here in House of Lords at this very moment. As Katie would later remark to Eamon Mack. “Casty’s little faux-pas couldn’t have been more welcome if he’d sent it gift-wrapped.”

At the assent from the Woolsack, she turned back to the House.

"So," said the piebald mare, hooking a thumb in her belt in a near perfect imitation of Lord Casterley's haughty posture and tone of voice, "I am supposedly disloyal to Britain, because I wish to allow the United States Navy access to the R-100...a 'symbol of our United Kingdom' as The Right...Honourable...The Viscount Casterley so quaintly puts it." She paused for effect and then went on, her gaze sweeping the chamber like a searchlight, "But what, may I ask, does His Lordship himself consider an appropriate fate for the R-100?" By way of answer, she produced a white-spattered copy of The Evening News from the bench beside her, waving it aloft for all to see.

"I hope my Lords and Ladies will forgive the condition of this paper," she said, "the only place I was able to find a copy of this particular issue was at the bottom of a bird-cage."

This was greeted by a short roll of laughter...and the sight of Lord Castermere going Christmas red again. She unfolded the paper and began to read:

"As we have stated time and again, the only fitting end for the R-100 is for her to be smashed with axes and flattened with steamrollers. And the sooner the better."

"Will Her Grace yield?" cried Lord Casterley, "Will Her Grace YIELD!?" This time, he sounded as if he were practically caterwauling.

But this time Katie wasn't giving up anything.

"So" she said, fixing him in the gaze of her one blue eye, "this is what His Lordship would have done with what he only just now referred to as, `Our BRITISH airship' and `The symbol of our Kingdom.' But *I* am the one whose loyalty to Britain is called into question?!? May I remind this Honourable House that when I made my flight from London to Cape Horn, I did so in an aircraft built in America and powered by an American Engine. Did that make it any less of a flight for Britain? I certainly never thought of it that way...and I will never think of the R-100 as anything less than a British airship. She was designed by Barnes Wallis, one of the finest furs with whom is has ever been my privilege to work, a BRITISH engineer, and she was built by British labourers...some of the finest lads I’ve ever known. Nothing that I choose to do with the R-100, should I be allowed to acquire her, will ever change that."

"And yet, Her Grace would hand over her secrets to the Americans?" queried His Lordship, when she finally yielded.

"I hope my distinguished colleague will forgive me." Katie rejoined, in her most caustic her tone, "But his anti-American sentiments are a matter of record. I should think he'd be more than happy to give over a `flying deathtrap', as he has repeatedly referred to the R-100, to the US Navy."

"She's only a deathtrap because she's filled with Hydrogen!" the cat yowled back...and Katie's expression would have looked better on a shark than on a horse.

"So My Lord ADMITS that filling the R-100 with helium rather than hydrogen will negate his primary argument for wanting to demolish her?"

A dead silence filled the chamber as the Lords and Ladies all fixed their gaze on Lord Casterley...who looked as if he were under attack by bevy of vampires. In the space of a heartbeat, the feline’s ears went from beet-red to chalk white. The trap which Katie had so carefully set with her earlier remarks had finally snapped shut. When he eventually recovered enough of his composure to answer her, his voice sounded like that of someone explaining things to a police officer. (On his bench, Lord Beaverbrook's smile grew more cryptic and pleasant.)

"B-Better she should be destroyed than fall into the paws of a foreign government." stammered Casterley, touching off a round of derisive chuckles throughout the chamber.

And there would be more coming. Katie lifted the brow over her one blue eye.

"Well, I must confess to this Honourable House," she said, "I'd no idea that R-100 was so vital to Britain's national defense that we must demolish her rather than let her fall into American hooves. Nor was I aware that the United States has suddenly become the enemy of the United Kingdom." And in a voice drenched in a mixture of sugar and battery acid, she looked directly at the feline and inquired. "Perhaps there is a matter of which I am not aware, Your Lordship? Have the Sons of Liberty dumped another load of tea into Boston Harbour?"

“More, as Hansard puts it.” said someone, bringing laughter and a mild rebuke of "order" from the Woolsack. This time, however, Lord Casterley weathered the storm with a stoic countenance.

"Can we trust the Americans?" he inquired, looking directly at Katie, when she had finished, "I would remind Her Grace of the fate that befell the American airship, the Shenandoah...which WAS inflated with helium. Are we to give over the R-100 to these selfsame furs who have proven by their own actions that they are not capable of handling even a helium-inflated airship? What will it say for British prestige, if we give the R-100 over to the American Navy, only to see her demolished by nature as was the Shenandoah?"

When he sat down again, Katie was not perturbed...she was ready.

"I have here in my hoof a letter from Lt. Commander Charles Rosendahl, of the United States Navy. Commander Rosendahl was one of the survivors of the Shenandoah. In this letter, Commander Rosendahl has stated that we will give testimony to a committee of this Hounourable House, at a time and place of its choosing. In this testimony, Commander Rosendahl proposes to set forth the lessons learned from the crash of the Shenandoah, and how these will be applied to the R-100, should its acquisition, rather than destruction, be approved."

This offer was met with murmurs of great interest from the House. A few notable military furs among the peers were, in particular, paying close attention.

A large, heavyset horse slowly rose to his feet, and, bowing to Katie, enquired as to whether she would yield to a question. Upon her assent, Lord Clydesdale, himself an aviator of no small ability, placed his hooves behind his back and cocked his head.

"Will Her Grace state to this Honourable House her intentions for the R-100, should permission be granted for her to acquire it?"

Katie nodded. "I would be pleased to answer that question. Quite simply, if I am allowed to acquire her, I propose to convert the R-100 from a passenger ship to a cargo ship."

A babble of surprised rolled around the chamber at this bit of unexpected news. Even Lord Casterley seemed taken aback...or perhaps it was that he was unable to find any useful arguments for the dismantling of the R-100 in Katie's latest revelation.

Lord Clydesdale raised a hoof again, and received permission to enquire further. He begged more details, to enlighten the House.

"I believe that it is common knowledge, among those such as my distinguished colleague who are experienced aviators (a slight bow here), that a dirigible cannot carry as much cargo as a steamship, and it has not the same range. But it can transport its cargo much more quickly than any surface vessel. Likewise, a dirigible cannot fly as fast as an airplane...but it has much greater
cargo capacity and much greater range. By converting the R-100 to the world's first freighter-airship, I propose to fill the gap between expediency and capacity for long-range cargo transport."

"May I ask Her Grace to yield?" queried a small, dapper bulldog with hooded eyes. It was no less a personage than His Grace the Duke of Marlborough. Charles Richard John Spencer Churchill had twice married Americans, and it was evident that he had found the remarks of Casterley regarding American parentage to be something of a slur on his own offspring.

"I shall." she answered, taking a chance.

"Is my understanding correct, in that Her Grace the Duchess of Strathdern would propose to operate the R-100 somewhere within the Empire?"

With a disdainful glance at Casterley, he resumed his seat. Katie rose to answer

"I will address My Lord Duke's question with a further fact: there is one other reason for my designs on the R-100; because an airship requires no runway, and does not even need to land to disgorge it's cargo, it can be used to transport large items into areas thought hitherto unreachable by cargo vessels. And I first propose to use the R-100 for just that purpose...for the transport gold dredging equipment into the Iso valley of New Guinea, where I've just made the purchase of a large mining claim."

Now, sensation swept the House. The members, many of whom had burned their paws on mining investments in past years, knew all too well the risks of the mining business. But Katie was not here offering shares for sale in her Iso holdings; she would bear all of those risks herself...and the romantic allure of what the piebald mare was proposing could not help but seize the imaginations of many.

"It can be done. My Lords and Ladies." said Katie, raising her voice to be heard over the din. "It can be done. In fact, it HAS been done. Both Commander Rosendahl and myself were on board the Graf Zeppelin when she successfully traversed the Stanovoi mountains of eastern Siberia. And at the time, they had been even less explored than the Owen Stanley mountains of New Guinea. It...can...be...done!"

And that was the knockout punch. Though the debate continued on for most of the afternoon, almost everyone present would later agree that this was the moment at which Katie carried the debate. Her plan was bold, daring, audacious...yet it had been well thought out and carefully planned. In short, it was exactly the kind of scheme calculated to appeal to the furs of Britain; to the nation that revered such figures as Clive, Raffles, Cook, `Chinese' Gordon, and T.E. Lawrence.

And Katie had been honest to a fault. None of the Lords and Ladies would ever say of her afterwards, `Her Grace, the Duchess Strathdern never told us about THAT!'

( Except on one small point. )

As there was no pending motion, there was no vote. Experienced peers, however, were of the view that had a vote taken place, it would have easily passed Lords with a two-thirds or greater majority. And all knew that the fate of the R-100 would now be taken up in the Commons; the public interest fueled by this rare dramatic debate in Lords would allow for no other course.

On her way out of the chamber, Katie found herself face-to-face with none other than Lord Casterley himself, who immediately donned his most truculent sneer and informed her in a low hiss, "Don't think for a moment that I've done with you."

Katie's response to this was one that would be remembered as a classic. Putting her hooves on her hips, she looked up at the grey cat with one blue eye and coolly informed him, "That's an interesting line, Your Lordship...only you should be HEARING it rather than DELIVERING it."

And without another word, she turned and departed.

But there had been more than a touch of bravura in her rejoinder. For her to be able to save the R-100, the matter would have to carry in the House of Commons, where the real power lay...and where Lord Casterley had many powerful allies.

However, before Commons could take up the matter, no less than four events played into Katie's hooves. The first came when Britain's foremost aviator, Sir Alan Cobham, who had hitherto been foursquare against saving the R-100, abruptly changed his opinion, explaining why in a letter to the editor of The Observer. Like Lord Casterley, Sir Alan's opposition to the R-100 had been based entirely on the fact that she was lifted by hydrogen. The difference was that where His Lordship had been cynical, Sir Alan was sincere...and he saw nothing unpatriotic in Katie's accepting help from the United States Navy in preserving the airship upon which she had laboured so hard.

"I shall not pretend that Her Grace's plans for the R-100 are not without risk." he wrote, "The question is whether they entail an acceptable risk. And is she is to be lifted by helium rather than hydrogen, my own answer to that question must be an unqualified yes."

The second event also involved a newspaper item, not a letter or an article, but a cartoon penned by Britain's most waspish political caricaturist, David Low, who drew for the Evening Standard, one of Lord Beaverbrook's papers...and who was also an ardent airship fan. The day after the R-101 disaster he had penned a cartoon showing a pilot labeled, 'The Spirit of Adventure' , standing amidst the skeletal remains of an incinerated dirigible and offering a farewell salute to the departing R-101...on which was inscribed the logo, "the end of the airship experiment."

In the new cartoon, Lord Casterley was depicted as a pirate -- of the scalawag, rather than the swashbuckling type. He was shown directing a horde of mangy freebooters armed with axes towards the R-100, and crying, "Forward, me hearties. We must not let the symbol of the U.K. fall into the paws of brigands! Destroy her!" The underlying caption read, ‘For the Honour of Britain?’

The drawing was vintage David Low. He depicted the R-100 emblazoned with huge a Union-Jack, and drew Katie standing resolutely before the airship holding a document that read `Plans to save the R-100 ( & British Pride )' Standing beside her was the same `Spirit of Adventure' figure who had appeared in the R-101 cartoon. As for Lord Casterley, he was drawn with patches covering not one, but BOTH eyes.

There is a remark once attributed to the infamously corrupt New York city political leader, William Marcy`Boss' Tweed. Upon seeing himself lampooned yet again by the great cartoonist Thomas Nast he was said to have exploded with: "Stop them damn pictures! My constituents can't read, but dammit, they can see pictures!"

That, in a nutshell, summed up the reaction of the common folk of Britain to the Low cartoon. It's simple, visual message struck a chord with the British Public in a way that no speech, or editorial ever could have done. Overnight, it became the hot topic of discussion not just in the tony West End gentlemen's clubs where the Evening Standard normally circulated, but in almost every pub and snooker room in Britain...where Lord Casterley became the butt of many a joke.

Low's nastiest comment in the drawing however, had been reserved not for His Lordship, but for someone who had not even been present in Lords during his exchange with Katie MacArran. That furson was Casterley’s closest ally in the House of Commons, Lady Nancy Astor. In Low's cartoon, she was depicted as a pirate moll, and just so that no one would mistake who she was, the name "Blackbirder Nancy" had been penned on the hem of her skirt. When George Stafford first saw it, he gasped so loudly that for a second, the pinto mare thought he might having an asthma attack.

"Good God," said the tiger, shaking his head as if to ward off the effects of a punch, "Mr. Low will skate on thin ice, won't he? I've never seen anything come quite so close to libel without actually crossing the line."

"What?" said Katie, taking the paper and studying the cartoon with a curious expression on her face.

"It's that name he's given Lady Astor." said The Observer’s editor, pointing, "Blackbirder is pirate slang for a slave-runner."

Now it was Katie's turn to gasp. Lady Nancy Witcher Astor, a thoroughbred mare from Virginia, was the daughter of a former slave dealer who had been driven to ruin by the Emancipation Proclamation. It was a subject about which she was known to be particularly sensitive.

"I was wondering what all the screaming I heard last evening was about." Katie commented wryly. Indeed, when Nancy Astor had seen the cartoon, she HAD almost thrown a temper tantrum. But while the primary target of her wrath was David Low, a large measure of it was reserved for another quarter...and therein lay the third incident that worked in Katie's favour As the daughter of not one, but TWO American parents, Lady Astor had not especially appreciated the way Lord Casterley had called Katie's loyalty to Britain into question, by way of her birth. Furthermore, she correctly perceived that had the grey cat not risen to reply to Katie in the first place, David Low would most likely never have produced that cartoon. The wise thing to do, from her perspective, would have been for Casterley to have sat still while The Duchess of Strathdern made her case to save the R-100 in the House of Lords...and then let his compatriots quietly kill it in the House of Commons.

"But no," Lady Astor raged to her husband that evening, "His Lordship just HAD to take on The Duchess Strathdern himself -- and let his temper and his ego get the better of him...again!"

The next day, Lord Casterley received curt note from Cliveden, the Astor country seat, informing him that while Lady Astor would still vote against saving the R-100, she had SPOKEN against it for the last time.

Last but by no means least in the quadrant of Katie's good fortune, was the resignation of the moribund Lord Amulree as Secretary of State For Air, and his replacement by the dynamic Charles Stewart Henry Vane-Tempest-Stewart, the 7th Marquess of Londonderry...who just happened to be a mine owner himself, and who so understood the technical aspects of what Katie was proposing far better than the average fur.

The government, inevitably, had to address the matter, and so the fate of the R-100 was put down for consideration by the Commons.

When the matter came up for debate there, one fur who DID rise to speak was Winston Churchill....but in support of Katie, rather than in opposition. In retrospect, no one should have been surprised. Churchill himself had once been Secretary of State for Air, and his affinity for bold ventures had long since been a matter of record. Furthermore Churchill, like Katie, was the child of an American mother...and he hadn't appreciated Lord Casterley's remarks any more than had Nancy Astor. (It was one of the few items upon which Churchill and the Lady Astor would ever agree.)

To be sure, Churchill was in the wilderness over Indian policy at that point, but while the bulldog might have lost almost all of his political clout, he still retained his near-legendary gift for rhetoric. And in his defense of the R-100, Winston Churchill was at his most eloquent.

"We have asked the United States Navy why they are so desirous of studying the R-100. And they have answered us. But now, we must ask OURSELVES a question; If the R-100 is truly the lighter-than-air deathtrap that some suggest she is...would not the Americans wish to have nothing at all to do with her?"

From there, Churchill went into a brief narrative of the R-100's history, reminding all present how she had been built at a lower cost and with far less parts than any airship that had yet flown, "And yet she exceeded her specifications and all expectations when first she took to the skies." said the bulldog, raising two fingers in his famous gesture of benediction, "Were the R-100 an airplane rather than a dirigible, is there anyone here who would not call her a triumph of British engineering?" Pausing just long enough for a dramatic effect, Churchill continued, "And is she not a triumph of British Enterprise as well, distinguished colleagues? For the R-100 was built entirely by private funding, with not a single pence contributed by His Majesty's Government. BUT," he thundered, this time raising only a single digit, "should we choose to demolish the R-100, that expense WILL be borne on the backs of the British Government. Let us not hesitate to consider this when we take up the question of her survival. And let us also remember who it was that assembled this marvel of engineering. The R-100 was built not by skilled engineers or well trained aircraft workers...she was constructed by local farm workers, who literally learnt what they needed to know while on the job." Here, he paused again, looking in turn at Stanley Baldwin, David Lloyd George, and Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald when he spoke; the three members whose opinions could move the House.

"Does that not say great things on behalf of the British Worker?" he asked. "Does that not say to the world that yes, even the humblest British labourer can accomplish a great feat of engineering, shall he put his mind and his heart to the task? I say to you, my fellow members, the R-100 is not just a triumph of British engineering and British enterprise, but a triumph of British SPIRIT as well."

When it came time to contest the transaction, Churchill’s rhetoric proved it’s worth; the big guns of the opposition remained silent. The exchange received the approval of the Commons. Even Lloyd George, the Welsh Wizard and perennial thorn in the side of governments (whether he was a member of them or not), assented.

The R-100 was Katie’s...if she could swing the financing.

next

Aircraft references:
David Low’s R101 Cartoon:
http://opal.ukc.ac.uk/catalogue/fullimage.pl/DL0438