CHAPTER II
A PRICE ON HIS HEAD
FLIGHT SUB-LIEUTENANT BARCROFT scanned the expanse of water beneathhim. The "Hippodrome" was now a mere speck far away to the west'ard.Four distinct trails of smoke betokened the fact that Britishdestroyers were pelting to the scene of the seaplane's victory.
On all other points of the compass the surface of the sea wasdeserted.
"Wind up!" exclaimed Barcroft, using the speaking-tube for the firsttime since the opening of the duel. "I'm going to have a look at ourbag."
The A.P. began to reel in the trailing length of wireless aerial,while the pilot, shutting off the motor, began a spiral volplanetowards the surface of the water. His "opposite number"--theseaplane that had tendered her congratulations--was also glidingdown towards the spot where the Hun aeroplane had struck thesurface. Barcroft recognised her pilot as Lieutenant John Fuller.
The white patch of foam that had been created by the terrific impactof the wrecked machine had already vanished, but a series ofeverdiverging concentric circles of iridescent oil marked the spot.The monoplane had sunk like a stone.
"No use going any lower," announced the Flight-sub, as he preparedto restart the engine.
"Hold hard!" exclaimed the observer. "There's something floating. Ibelieve, by smoke! it's the Boche pilot."
"That alters the case, then," decided Barcroft. "We'll investigatestill further."
The Hun showed no signs of life. Kept up by his inflated jacket hefloated on his back, his legs and arms trailing listlessly and hiswide open eyes staring vacantly into the element through which a fewminutes previously he had been flying for his life.
The British seaplane alighted within a stone's throw of the corpse.Gravely both pilot and observer saluted the vanquished. Whether hedeserved the honour or not the victors did not pause to consider. Hemight have been the cause of the deaths of a score or moreinoffensive civilians--women and children perhaps; but death wipesout old scores. Barcroft and his companion merely recognised thedead airman as an opponent worthy of their steel, and as such he wasentitled to the homage that one brave man pays to another. Of hispast record they knew nothing. Their tribute was the spontaneousacknowledgment of a well-contested fight.
Slowly the seaplane taxied until one of the floats was within a footor so of the Hun airman's corpse. Agilely Kirkwood swung himselfover the side of the fuselage and swarmed down one of the supportingstruts to the broad float.
"Ugh!" he soliloquised. "The fellow's grinning at me."
Securing the body the A.P. deftly opened the leather jacket. Fromthe inner breast pocket he withdrew a bulky pocket-book, a map andan envelope, sealed and addressed and enclosed in oiled silk.Further search produced a gunmetal watch. On the lid was inscribedin High German characters: "War substitute in lieu of gold watchpatriotically surrendered by Unter-leutnant E. von Buelow undHelferich." A purse completed the list of articles found on thebody.
"Buck up!" exclaimed Barcroft. "It will be dark in another twentyminutes."
Thus abjured Kirkwood opened the valve of the dead airman's inflatedjacket. Slowly the corpse sank beneath the surface to find atemporary resting-place on the bed of the North Sea. Night hadfallen by the time the seaplanes had returned to their parent shipand had been safely housed. The "Hippodrome," steaming with screenedlights and escorted by the vigilant destroyers, resumed her belatedrun for home waters.
Barcroft and Kirkwood, in the large and well-lighted wardroom, wereexamining the "effects" of their victim, while a crowd offlying-officers stood round to watch the proceedings.
The A.P. had separated the Hun's personal belongings and was makingthem up into a parcel, to be sealed and delivered to the deadaviator's relatives when opportunity occurred. It was a point ofetiquette faithfully carried out by the airmen of both sideswhenever circumstances made it possible.
Barcroft was studiously scanning the documents that were not of apersonal nature. The map was a German production, and comprised alarge scale area of Kent. Probably it was based upon the BritishOrdnance Survey, supplemented by details gathered by the swarm ofHun spies who more or less openly infested the length and breadth ofthe British Isles, prior to the memorable month of August 1914. Yetthere was clear evidence of the map being brought up to date,recently-erected munition factories and other places of militaryimportance being faithfully recorded. The margin was embellishedwith photographic reproductions of views of conspicuous landmarkstaken from a considerable altitude.
"Jolly rummy how these Boche birds get hold of these views,"commented Fuller. "I swear they didn't take them unless they've beenrunning daylight trips in noiseless and practically invisible'planes. It's their strafed organisation that is so wonderful. Knockholes in that and it's all up with Hunland. Hullo, Billy, what's theexcitement?"
Barcroft, holding up a paper he had taken from the pocket-book, wasstudying it with the deepest interest, while his face was dimpledwith lines of suppressed laughter.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "Won't the governor be bucked? Listen tothis, you fellows. I'll have to go slow, as some of thetongue-splitting words take a bit of translating:
"'It is my Royal and Imperial command that steps be taken to securethe person of the Englishman Peter Barcroft, residing at Rivers daleHouse, near Alderdene, in the county of Kent, the said PeterBarcroft having published or caused to be published booksthat--that--(can't quite make out what's Schriftsteller? Ah! I haveit) of which he is the author, the same books treating Us withlibellous contempt. To the good German who succeeds in producing thesaid Peter Barcroft alive on German soil will be paid the reward oftwenty thousand marks. In the event of the said Peter Barcroft beingslain by the act of one of my subjects the reward will be tenthousand marks.--Wilhelm, I.R.'"
"So that's what Unter-leutnant E. von Buelow und Helferich was on thestunt for," remarked Fuller. "Yes, by smoke! there's a red circledrawn round the village of Alderdene. Billy, my festive, your paterwill have to look out for himself."
"Perhaps the Hun has already wiped Riversdale House out ofexistence," said Barcroft with a hearty laugh.
His brother officers looked at him in astonishment. His levity, atthe possibility of his parent's annihilation by a few hundred poundsof high explosive, seemed altogether out of place.
"Steady, old man," exclaimed Tarleton, the senior "flight-luff."
"Can't help it," continued Barcroft, vainly endeavouring to suppresshis mirth. "Fancy a Boche going all that way on a fruitless errand,even supposing he did drop a plum within half a mile of the house.The governor vacated the show last quarter-day, and it's stillempty. There isn't another house within a couple of miles of it, andit belongs to a regular pig of a lawyer-josser who's at loggerheadswith everybody. Let's hope, if the house is pulverised, that itisn't insured against hostile aircraft. I'm not vindictive, but itwould serve the bounder right."
"Where's your governor now?" enquired Fuller.
"Eh? Entering for the Kaiser's Stakes, old man? Well, here's a clue.He's moved to Tarleigh, a little show somewhere in Lancashire. Aboutsix or seven miles from Barborough, I believe, and the same distancefrom anywhere else. At any rate, I'm off there directly I get myleave. By Jove, won't the old man feel honoured!--a price set on hishead by Irresponsible Bill. He'll feel as proud as Punch. By thebye--don't all speak at once--who's pinched my matches?"