CHAPTER XXI
ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER
FOR another three days the battleplane rested on Russian soil, theclimatic conditions remaining unfavourable for the much desiredreturn journey.
During that period Athol saw a good deal of his father, for therescued prisoners were quartered in a little village within threeversts of the flying-ground.
There was every possibility of the colonel's wish being speedilygratified, for arrangements were already in progress for sending thereleased officers and men back to England by ship from Archangel.
Private Tom Smith elected to go with them, although not until he hadspent many an anxious hour deliberating the matter in his mind. Hewas already a keen airman; he realised his debt of gratitude to Dickand the battleplane's crew for getting him out of a most unpleasantsituation. On the other hand he was deeply attached to his oldmaster, Colonel Hawke. With him he had shared the horrors of theMeseritz Prison Camp, and the private's sense of loyalty to hischief, coupled with his desire to share in the colonel's resolutionto "get his own back" upon his former captors, decided him to throwin his lot with his master.
At five o'clock in the morning of the seventeenth day of their visitto Russia the battleplane's officers were aroused by SergeantO'Rafferty announcing that the wind had veered and was blowingsteadily from the north-east and seemed likely to remain so.
Wireless reports from Russian warships far out in the Balticconfirmed the statement. There was every indication of the favourableair-drift continuing for some days.
Already the battleplane was in readiness for flight. Her tanks hadbeen replenished with petrol, her motors overhauled. There was stillan ample reserve of machine-gun ammunition, while the Russianauthorities had supplied a dozen bombs filled with a super-powerfulJapanese high-explosive. The rents in her wings and in the body ofthe fuselage had been made good, numerous neat patches bearing asilent testimony to the ordeal through which she had successfullypassed.
In accordance with the perfect array that existed between all theAllies Blake had given the Russian aeronautical engineer everyfacility to study the constructive details of his invention; and itwas more than likely that before the war had come to a victoriousconclusion, battleplanes after the model of the mechanical bird wouldbe seen operating under the control of Russian airmen.
Having taken farewell of their hospitable hosts the crew of thebattleplane prepared to set out on the return journey. This time theyflew alone, for the remaining British biplanes that had taken part inthe raid had already left. Acting under previous orders they hadflown southward, and after a rest at Odessa, had passed overConstantinople, arriving safe and sound at the Allied Camp atSalonika.
Amidst salvoes of cheering from the swarm of grey-coated Russians thebattleplane--"secret" no longer--rose steadily and faultlessly, andshaped a course towards the Baltic.
"I've decided upon an alteration of plans," announced Blake. "Thedeciding factor is the petrol question. If we fly direct and overGerman territory, we may run short of fuel and have to descend. Yousee, the spirit we are now using is different from the preparedpetrol that brought us here. Whether we can cover the whole distanceor not without replenishing remains to be seen. So I propose keepingover the Baltic and thence over the Cattegat and Skager Rack. By thetime we are in the vicinity of the Skaw I shall be able to determinewhether there will be enough petrol to carry us the rest of the way."
"And if not?" enquired Athol.
"Details already arranged," said the inventor, with a grim chuckle."The Admiralty have instructed a tank-vessel, escorted by cruisersand destroyers, to lie off the Norwegian coast, well outside thethree mile limit. That's a pretty tangible proof that we hold thesea."
At a rate approaching one hundred and eighty miles an hour thebattleplane was soon out of sight of land. She had at first held anorth-westerly course in order to avoid passing over Libau, then inthe possession of the Germans. Blake, although he would not havedeclined another aerial fight, was anxious to traverse the Balticbefore the Huns were aware that he had left the Russian frontier.There was work awaiting the battleplane in France--work of far moreimportance than engaging individual hostile seaplanes in theneighbourhood of the Cattegat.
Fifty minutes after leaving Riga the Swedish island of Gothland wassighted. At this point the course was altered to the south-west,until the island of Bornholm was discerned.
Although numerous Russian warships and patrol-boats had been sightedat the entrance to the Gulf of Riga the Baltic was almost deserted,except towards the Swedish shore, where several enemy merchantmenwere hugging the coast in order to avoid the studied attentions ofthe British and Russian submarines. But of German warships there wasno sign.
Presently Blake's trained ear caught a disconcerting sound that wasrepeated time after time with increasing frequency. Dick, slidingfrom his seat, made his way to the motor-room; then, after a briefexamination, approached his chief.
"She's firing badly," said Blake gravely.
"Yes," assented Dick. "It's not the ignition this time. It's thepetrol. It is my belief that either the stuff is very inferior orelse that it has been watered. Whatever it is the rotten stuff is nowpassing through the carburettors. Hitherto we've been running on thepetrol we brought with us."
"Was it strained?" asked Blake anxiously.
"I stood by and saw it done," reported Dick. "Of course some onemight have tampered with the tanks during the night. There are spieswith the Russian troops as well as there are in the French and ours,worse luck. There she goes again," he added, as the motors falteredbadly for several strokes and then spasmodically fired again. "Oughtwe to turn back?"
"I don't believe in turning back," said the inventor. "No, the sea iscalm, there are no vessels in sight. We'll volplane down, rest on thesurface and re-strain every drop of petrol on board."
Preparations were quickly made for the venturesome enterprise. Thehatchway in the floor of the fuselage, which was already shut, wasnow hermetically sealed by means of wing-nuts that jammed the metalflap hard down upon an indiarubber seating. A similar watertightcovering closed the aperture through which the bombs were dropped inaction. The exhaust, which generally led through a pipe on theunderside of the rear part of the chassis, was diverted by means of atwo-way union so that the former escaped from an outlet andprojecting well above the deck. Thus, in less than five minutes thehull of the battleplane was made absolutely watertight and ready tofloat upon the waves.
Being unprovided with floats like those fitted to naval seaplanes themachine took the water clumsily. The sudden resistance of the girderscarrying the landing-wheels as they encountered the water, caused thebody to tilt nose downwards. With solid water well over her forepart,the battleplane shook herself free, bobbed violently several timesand finally rocked easily upon the placid waters of the Baltic.
Leaving Athol to keep watch all remaining hands set to work. Firstthe contents of the carburettors were strained. Globules too heavy topass through the fine meshed gauze confirmed Dick's suspicions. Thepetrol had been heavily "doctored" with water.
It was a lengthy and disagreeable task draining each of the tanks andrefiltering the liquid fuel. The atmosphere of the confined spacereeked of petrol fumes; the unusual motion of the hull as it pitchedand rocked to the action of the sullen waves added to the discomfortsof the highly necessary work. Sergeant O'Rafferty, almost overcomewith nausea, stuck gamely to his job, while both Dick and DesmondBlake felt their heads whirling under the powerful influence of thevolatile gas.
Suddenly Athol perceived two pole-like objects forging slowly throughthe water at a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile. Only thefeather of spray caused by the resistance of the vertical objectsbetrayed their presence. They were the twin periscopes of asubmarine.
At his shout of alarm Blake and the rest of the crew left their taskand hurried to their respective flying-stations. Anxiously theyawaited developments. Was the submarine a friend or foe?
Flight, under present c
onditions, was impossible.
Until the whole of the petrol in the tank nearest the carburettorswas completely strained, it would be impossible to get the motors tofire.
Quietly Athol and the sergeant fitted ammunition belts to the twoautomatic guns. Although the bullets did not possess sufficientpenetrative powers to perforate the shell of a submarine the hail ofprojectiles would be sufficient to prevent any attempt on the part ofthe vessel's gunners from using their quick-firers--provided theykept within range. Nor could the submarine make use of a torpedo, forthe lightness of the battleplane's draught--floating she drew butfour or six inches--offered no target to an under-water missileunless the weapon struck the girder-work of the landing-wheels whichprojected several feet underneath the surface.
Nevertheless the situation was a perplexing one. Should the submarineprove to be German, she could either shell the battleplane from adistance or else summon, by means of wireless, Zeppelins andseaplanes to finish off the helpless aircraft by means of bombs.
Several long-drawn-out minutes passed. The eyes of the periscopeswere steadily fixed upon the battleplane as the invisible submarineslowly approached. At length, apparently satisfied with herinvestigations, the submerged craft housed her periscopes and madeoff, leaving a tell-tale swirl upon the surface of the water.
"She's off, sir," exclaimed O'Rafferty.
"Yes, for the present," replied Blake. "She'll be at it again, Ifancy. Come on, lads, let's carry on. Another half hour will see usstraight."
Leaving Athol still on watch the rest of the crew resumed theirlabours, but before they had been at work for another five or tenminutes the submarine appeared upon the surface at a distance ofnearly two miles.
"The brutes!" ejaculated Blake. "They've spotted our automatic guns.We'll be having some three pounder shells this way before long."
Bringing their glasses to bear upon the low-lying hull of thesubmarine the airmen found that their fears were realised. The vesselwas a large _unterseeboot_ flying the Black Cross ensign of Germany.She was lying broad-side on and forging ahead at a rate of about fiveknots. The two quick-firing guns were already raised from theirrespective "houses" or watertight troughs, and were being served bytheir gunners.
A flash followed by a dull crack announced that the submarine hadopened the ball.
"You'll have to do better than that, old sport!" exclaimed O'Raffertydisdainfully, as the projectile struck the water at a hundred yardsbeyond the target, and ricochetting with a tremendous splash, finallydisappeared a mile and a half away.
Again and again the Huns fired, each shell approaching with uncannyand methodical exactness nearer and nearer the crippled battleplane.They were blazing away with plugged shell, and that fact, combinedwith the evident reluctance of the submarine's crew to score a directhit, told the airmen pretty plainly that the Germans wishedparticularly for their surrender and the capture of the battleplaneintact.
From time to time Athol and the sergeant let loose a few rounds ofammunition, but in spite of the extreme elevation of the sights ofthe automatic weapons the bullets all fell short.
Suddenly Athol ducked his head as a projectile hurtled through theair less than ten feet above him. He could distinctly feel thewindage of the missile, while the screech was appalling. The Huns,getting out of patience with the resistance of the Britishbattleplane, were trying to shell it in grim earnest.
But before another shell could be fired from the U boat, a column offoamy water shot up a couple of hundred feet into the air. For abrief instant the bow and stern of the submarine showed, tilted up atdifferent angles to the surface of the water. Then, as the muffledroar of an explosion was borne to the ears of Blake and hiscompanions, their antagonist simply vanished, leaving a maelstrom ofboiling water to mark her tomb.
"Hurrah!" shouted Dick, the first of the delighted and astonished mento find his voice. "She's gone. Wonder what's happened?"
"One of her torpedoes gone off by accident, I expect," hazarded hischum. "It seemed like an internal explosion."
"At any rate, she's gone," observed Blake thankfully. "Now, lads,let's get on with the business, before there are a swarm of patrolboats on the scene. I shouldn't wonder if the noise of that explosionwere heard fifty miles away."
Leaving Athol again on watch the others continued their interruptedlabours; but before another ten minutes had elapsed came thewatcher's doleful shout:--
"Another submarine!"
The new-comer had appeared upon the surface apparently without anypreliminary investigation. At least Athol had not noticed theperiscopes until the vessel rose at a distance of a cables lengthaway.
She bore no number or distinguishing marks, but hardly was she awashwhen the conning-tower hatchway was opened, and a seaman dressed in athick "fearnought" suit, appeared. Making his way aft he tugged atthe halliards of a short flag-staff, and instantly a flag was"broken-out," fluttering proudly in the breeze.
It was the glorious White Ensign.
Others of the crew now appeared, as the submarine, forging gentlyahead like an enormous porpoise, closed with the battleplane that shehad so timely rescued. Then, slowing down, she came to a standstillten yards to windward of the crippled aircraft.
"Heave us a line if you have one on board," shouted a boyish-lookinglieutenant-commander, who, as he smiled displayed a set of whiteteeth that contrasted vividly with his deeply bronzed complexion."We'll have all on board in a jiffey."
"We haven't a line," replied Blake courteously, "and we don't want tocome on board, thanks all the same. We're effecting repairs and thenwe're off, I hope."
"Thought that Hun was strafing you," remarked the young officer.
"He was about to, when--I suppose you bagged him."
"We did," agreed the lieutenant-commander with pardonable pride."We're out of your debt now, I take it."
Blake was genuinely taken aback.
"You've a bad memory, I'm afraid," continued the skipper of thesubmarine. "T'other day a Zepp was strafing us, and you strafed theZepp. We came to the surface in time to see you sheering off. Nastyquarter of an hour while it lasted, by Jove! So now we're quits.Well, what's wrong?"
The difficulty with the watered petrol was explained.
"Don't bother about the rest," said the lieutenant-commander. "We'veplenty on board. Only replenished at Cronstadt yesterday, and wedon't do much surface running. We'll soon fix you up."
In a brief space of time a delivery hose was passed from thesubmarine to the battleplane, and with a prodigal generosity gallonsof petrol were pumped into the latter's tanks.
During the operation Athol was engaged in conversation with thesub-lieutenant of the submarine, each, with pardonable pride,maintaining that his branch of the respective services afforded thegreater excitement. While the lieutenant-commander of the submarinepaid a visit to the battleplane, Athol went on board the naval craft,and was shown most of the wonders of the latest type of under-waterwarship.
Just then the skipper of the submarine made a flying leap from thedeck of the battleplane to the platform of his own craft.
"Back with you!" he exclaimed, addressing Athol, who was in the actof emerging through a hatchway. "Sharp as you can, unless you want atrip with us. There's another strafing match about to commence."
High up and several miles away to the south-westward at least a dozenblack specks were visible against the cloudless sky. A fleet ofhostile seaplanes was approaching with the evident intention ofmaking it hot for the British submarine.
"Sure you can start?" shouted the lieutenant-commander as he sliddown the conning-tower hatchway.
Blake gave an affirmative reply, which was confirmed by the enginesbeing set in motion.
"S'long!" was the naval officer's farewell greeting as he slammed therubber-lined hatchway cover. Then, forging quickly ahead thesubmarine dipped her nose and slid swiftly beneath the surface.
CHAPTER XXII
ALL GOES WELL WITH ENGLAND
WITH her replenished stock of fuel
the battleplane had no difficultyin rising once she was clear of the surface; for, owing to theabsence of properly contrived floats and the restricted limit of thebeats of her wings, the tips of which could not be dipped into thewater without considerable risk, she could not soar at her usualangle. It was only after "taxiing" for nearly two hundred yards thatshe was able to shake herself clear of the unnatural element.
"Much more of this sort of business and I shall have to modify thedesign," declared Blake. "Ah, here they are again," he added,indicating the approaching seaplanes.
"Stand by with the guns. I'm going right through them."
With this laudable intention Blake took the battleplane up quite athousand feet above the altitude of the hostile aircraft, and at fullspeed tore to meet the hostile seaplanes.
By this time the Huns had learnt of the presence of the battleplane.Recognising her by the beat of the powerful wings they one and alldeclined combat, and scuttling like a flight of wild duck, made rapidtracks for home.
"That's decided me," declared the imperturbable pilot. "We'll make ashort cut for home. O'Rafferty."
"Sir?"
"Send off a wireless to the petrol depot ship. We are within call, Ifancy. Tell them not to wait. We have more than enough petrol to takeus home."
"Now, Athol," continued Blake, "I'll give you fellows a sight of theKiel Canal and of Heligoland. I don't suppose any British airman hasseen Billy's ditch from the air before."
At an immense altitude the battleplane swung round, crossing theSchleswig-Holstein isthmus at a height of seventeen thousand feet.Unseen--or if she were seen no attempt on the part of the Huns wasmade to molest her--she glided serenely across to Heligoland Bight,the islands of Heligoland and Sandinsel looking like mere dots in thesea. Then following the chain of Frisian Islands she skirted theDutch coast on her way south-westwards.
In about nine hours--including the stop for repairs--the battleplanehad covered a distance of nearly a thousand miles, and was withinhalf an hour's run of the opposing forces on the Western Front.
Already the airmen could feel a strange rumbling sensation in therarefied air. It was not the thunder of the guns in Flanders--it wassomething far louder than that. The concentrated fire of hundreds ofenormous allied guns was literally shaking the firmament.
"I know where we are now," declared Blake. "That town we can seeahead is Peronne. By Jove! we're in time to see the 'Big Push,' lads.Look, our line is different from what it was three weeks ago. It'sbeyond that village--Fricourt, I think is its name."
In vast circles the battleplane volplaned earthwards, the two ladsand O'Rafferty surveying the scene of terrific carnage by means oftheir binoculars.
There was no doubt about it. Our khaki-clad troops, recking not thestubborn resistance of the grey-coated Huns, were pressing forwardwith bombs and bayonets. All along the line, as far as the limit ofvision permitted it to be seen, the lads could mark the irresistibleprogress of their brave countrymen and the equally gallant Frenchallies. Overhead, although at a considerably lesser altitude, flewswarms of aeroplanes, all bearing the distinctive marks of red, whiteand blue. Of the Black Cross machines not one was visible. It was anAllies' day with a vengeance.
Unable to take part in the operations for want of previousinstructions, Blake manoeuvred the battleplane up and down thechanging line of opposing forces. The spirits of the two lads rose tohigh water mark. They realised that this was the beginning of theend; the set purpose, which after weeks and months of tedious andseemingly wasteful inactivity, was to justify the waiting tactics ofthe silent Joffre.
Suddenly Athol noticed an ominous movement in our part of thefar-flung line. A village, although the buildings were almostlevelled by the accurate gunfire of the British, was still being heldwith the utmost stubbornness by the Huns.
Evidently the enemy had preserved a number of machine guns intact inspite of the terrific hail of shells. The British, pinned to theearth by the terrific machine-gun fire, were unable to advance; whileevading the "barrage" of shells, strong reinforcements of Germanswere being rushed forward to convert the British check into adefeat--glorious but none the less a set-back that might adverselyinfluence the concentrated operations.
And, with the exception of Blake's battleplane there was no otherBritish machine to warn the infantry of the approach of the Germanreserves.
"Now for it!" shouted Blake, the glint of battle in his eye. "Let 'emhave bombs and flêches when I give the word. Get ready with theautomatic guns."
Athol, the end of the ammunition belt already in the breechmechanism, depressed the muzzle of his weapon. O'Rafferty was readyon his part, while Dick stood by to operate the bomb dropping gear,keeping one hand on the lever that would release hundreds of steeldarts upon the close columns of German troops.
Like a hawk the battleplane swooped down, descending to less thanfour hundred feet. Greeted by a terrific fusillade from the rifles ofthe astonished and demoralised Huns she returned the compliment withinterest. Bombs, darts and bullets wrought havoc in the crowdedranks, until the survivors broke and fled, leaving a trail of deadand wounded as they sought a doubtful shelter from the terror of theskies.
Dismayed by the rout of their supports the defenders of the ruinedvillage slackened their fire. Quick to seize the advantage theBritish troops, with a cheer that could be distinctly heard above theroar of battle, swayed forward on and over the rubble of masonry andcarried the position.
This much Athol saw. Then his attention was attracted by a groan.With his head and shoulder resting over the coaming lay SergeantO'Rafferty, the blood oozing from a bullet wound in his neck. BeforeAthol could make his way to the sergeant's assistance Blake called tohim in an unsteady voice to take the steering-wheel.
"The blighters have got me," he exclaimed. "Plugged through bothwrists."
"Dick," shouted his chum. "Bear a hand with the sergeant. He's hit.Sharp as you can, then stand by with the motors."
"We'll have to come down," replied Dick. "Petrol tanks perforated."
Only sufficient fuel for half an hour's run remained before thedamage was done; with the precious spirit trickling in a steadystream it was doubtful whether the engines could be kept running morethan a few minutes.
Dick, too, did not mention that he had stopped a bullet, which,passing through the fleshy part of his right arm, had rendered thatlimb useless and was causing him exquisite pain.
Just then the motors coughed and stopped abruptly. Athol was onlyjust in time to grip the steering wheel when the long volplane toearth began.
He attempted to tilt the aerilons. The operating rods respondedstiffly to the action of the levers. The movable tips to the wingswere firmly locked. Absolute control of the battleplane was no longerpossible.
"There'll be a most unholy smash!" muttered the lad between hisclenched teeth.
The next instant the battleplane flattened out, not under theinfluence of the pilot's guidance, but through some freakishaircurrent. Then, before she could gather momentum for her tail-diveshe crashed to earth.
Myriads of white lights flashed in front of Athol's eyes, and theneverything became a blank.
* * * * *
When Athol recovered consciousness he found himself in a basehospital. By his bedside stood Desmond Blake and Dick, both swathedin bandages.
"How goes it?" asked Athol feebly.
"The battleplane's done for," replied Dick.
"She's done her bit, and for a wonder we're all here to tell thetale."
"But the Big Push?" persisted the lad.
Desmond Blake's features were wreathed in a smile that betokenedconfidence.
"Don't worry, Athol," he replied. "So far all goes well with the armsof England and France."
THE END
THE LONDON AND NORWICH PRESS LIMITED LONDON AND NORWICH ENGLAND
[Transcriber's Notes:
This book contains a number of misprints. The following misprints have been corrected:
[Hop it and we'll] -> [H
op in and we'll] [Ammunnition and stores] -> [Ammunition and stores] [The moniplane's tail rose] -> [The monoplane's tail rose]
]
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