To all these questions Andy was able to give only the most general of answers for he was bound in secrecy not to reveal definite information about the Goliath or the plans for its trial flights. Andy and his friends posed while flashlights flared but finally they were alone in their rooms.
Harry had finished the score of small tasks which had been necessary when the final sail order, was given and he stretched out on one of the beds, his hands clasped above his head.
“Tonight we’re all here together,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll be going down the sound in the tin fish; next week you’ll be aloft as the Goliath tries its wings, and the next time we meet will be at the North pole. Believe me, that’s adventure.”
“How I envy you all,” said Blatz, his voice low and earnest, and Andy actually felt sorry for the European whom he had come to firmly suspicion. If he could wipe those doubts out of his mind, he would thoroughly like Blatz for the foreigner was a born airman and would be a real asset to the technical staff of National Airways.
“When you sail away for the North pole in the Goliath,” he told Andy, “I’ll stay on the ground at Bellevue and watch you fade into the north but I’ll glory with you in success.”
“I’m hungry,” announced Bert. “Let’s go down and get something to eat. If we sit around here we’ll all get blue for we’re going to miss Harry a lot. There’s just this one consolation. We’ll be able to talk back and forth daily on our low wave sets unless the Arctic puts up a wall of static we can’t break through.”
Their last meal together was a quiet affair despite Bert’s efforts to make it jolly and cheerful. With Harry going aboard ship within the next hour or so and the Neptune casting off at dawn, they knew the start of the great adventure was at hand and it awed them all.
A messenger paged Harry in the dining room and handed him a telegram. The Neptune’s radio operator tore it open with fingers that shook just a little and read it hungrily. His face whitened for a moment and he folded the message carefully and placed it in an inner pocket. There was a suspicion of a tear in one eye.
“A wire from Dad and Mother,” he said. “They’re the best ever.”
An hour later they stepped out of a taxi on the Brooklyn wharf. Lights glowed over the Neptune; cars hurried up to disgorge other members of the crew, newspaper men were buzzing around, flashlights blazed and over the whole scene there was a feeling of tension.