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.”