Take the manliest of Kipling men, the kind you might find at sea battling the dangers of wind and wave. Throw in the details of hardware that so many such men take pride in, whether it be guns, engines, sails, or rails. Now, mount all that on a blimp and set it off on a wild ride.
Mighty airships ply the skies of Kipling's distant future, having long since elbowed heavier-than-air craft into irrelevance. Tramp steamers (uh, airships) sail too, almost as much a hazard to traffic as to themselves. Navigation signals (resembling lightbouses more than anything else) guide our bold dirigible crews on their critical missions of rescue, mail delivery, and pretty much anything else involving moving men and material over distances. And, to keep it all moving smoothly, something like a world government has taken charge of the airways and their traffic.
Seen through today's eyes, this has quaint camp value like that of Doc Smith and other earnest chroniclers of future heroism. As an amusing addition, Kipling append a set of advertisements from that future era, offers of service or employment, airships and parts sought or sold, and navigational updates from the central traffic command. Interesting in itself, this also gives perspective on predicting the future and on just how strongly the future resists being predicted.
-- wiredweird