CHAPTER XXXVII
"THE GREAT STRAFE"
THE sight was an unfamiliar one. Many a' time had Barcroft seen aBritish battleship from above, but never before one of thefirstclass units of the Kaiser's navy. This one was a two-masted,three-funnelled vessel, the peculiar shape of the "smoke stacks"proclaiming her to be one of the "Deutschland" Class--built thirteenyears previously, and carrying as her principal armament four11-inch guns. She was not under her own steam. Tugs were lashedalongside, a third towing ahead. She had a decided list to starboardand appeared to be slightly down by the head.
"She's been hammered a bit," thought Billy. "We'll do our level bestto shake her up a lot more. Pity she's not one of the 'Hindenburg'type, but half a loaf is better than no bread, so here goes."
As a matter of fact the battleship had been knocked about a weekpreviously, owing to having bumped against one of the driftingGerman mines. Brought with difficulty into the outer roadstead, shewas being repaired as secretly as possible in order to return toKiel for completion of refit. The disaster having been concealed, atleast officially, from the German populace, it had been considerednecessary to keep the injured vessel off Heligoland rather than takeher through the Imperial Canal in her nondescript state.
The British naval air raid upon Cuxhaven had completely upset thisarrangement. News of the impending attack had been wirelessed, asBarcroft had surmised, from the U-boat that had been driven off bythe seaplanes' escort, and, not knowing what the raiders' objectiveactually was, the Germans had hastily sent the crippled battleshipfrom the roadstead in the hope that she might lie safely in the KielCanal before the aerial bombardment took place.
All three tugs were blowing off steam vigorously. The hiss of theescaping vapour had prevented the Huns from hearing the noisyBritish seaplane's approach, and now at an altitude of five thousandfeet Barcroft had the huge target at his mercy. It was, however,necessary to descend considerably. There must be no risk of missingthe slowly-moving battleship.
Descending in short right-handed spirals the pilot brought his craftwithin five hundred feet of his enemy. A bugle-blast, followed bythe appearance of swarms of sailors as they rushed to man the lightquick-firers, announced that the impending danger had been sighted.At all events, it was not to be a one-sided engagement, for almostsimultaneously two anti-aircraft guns, mounted on the battleship'sfor'ard turret, came into action.
Both shells passed so close to the seaplane that the pilotdistinctly felt the "windage" of the projectiles, The frail aircraftreeled in the blast of the displaced air, but fortunately thetime-fuses of the shells were not set accurately. The missiles burstover eight hundred feet above their target.
Deftly Kirkwood released a couple of bombs. Both found theirobjective, one striking the fo'c'sle between the steam capstan andthe for'ard turret, the other slightly in the wake of the bridge andchart-house, completely wrecking both. In a few seconds the whole ofthe fore-part of the battleship was hidden by a dense cloud ofsmoke.
"Not so dusty," thought Billy as he manoeuvred to enable theobserver to drop another couple of "plums." As he did so a shellburst almost underneath the seaplane, ripping a dozen holes in thewings and severing a strut like a match-stick.
Out of the enveloping mushroom-shaped cloud of white smoke theseaplane staggered. For the moment Billy fancied that she was out ofcontrol and on the point of making a fatal nose-spin.
"Let's hope, then, that she'll drop fairly on top of that strafedhooker," was the thought that flashed across his mind.
But no; grandly the gallant little seaplane recovered herself. Atouch of the pilot's feet upon the rudder-bar showed that she wascapable of being steered, while apparently the controls were stillin order.
Billy gave a quick glance over his shoulder. To his relief he foundKirkwood cool and imperturbable at his post, awaiting the opportunemoment to release another pair of powerful bombs.
One burst aft, utterly knocking out the crew of the anti-aircraftgun that had so nearly strafed their attackers; the other, missingthe warship's deck, landed fairly and squarely upon the tug lashedto the starboard side.
The little vessel, totally ripped up amidships, sank amid the roarof escaping steam, but still secured by fore and aft "springs"--wirehawsers stout enough to withstand the strain--she acted as atremendous drag upon the huge bulk of the battleship.
In vain the latter attempted to check her tendency to swing tostarboard by liberal use of the helm. The other tugs, stillstraining at their task, only made matters worse, until finally thetowing craft, unable to check the side strain on her hawser, slewedcompletely round, and in this position was rammed by the steel prowof the battleship.
By this time Billy had manoeuvred for a third attack. So great wasthe confusion on the German's decks--most of the men who hadsurvived the explosion bolting from their dubious cover that theseaplane was no longer subjected to a peppering from the Archibalds.
For years naval architects had been increasing the strength of abattleship's side-armour, while the thickness of the "protected"deck, considered only liable to glancing hits, was kept at aboutthree inches of steel. The present war quickly found the defects ofinsufficient deck armour. Enormous shells, fired at a range ofeighteen thousand yards, fell almost vertically upon the decks ofbattleships during the Jutland fight, while the menace from bombsdropped from hostile aircraft was only beginning to be realised.
Slowing down Barcroft again approached his quarry. This timeKirkwood released three of the high-explosive missiles. Two, fairlyclose together, by the after 11-inch gun turret, completed thebusiness.
With a rush and a roar, indescribably appalling in its titanicpower, the battleship's after magazine exploded. The seaplane,whirled like a feather in a hurricane, was enveloped in a cloud ofblack smoke tinged with flames and mingled with flying fragmentsfrom the disintegrated ship. In utter darkness Billy found himselfon the underside of the overturned machine. Only the resistingstrength of his broad securing strap saved him from being hurleddownward like a stone.
Almost rendered senseless by the asphyxiating fumes, thrown about asfar as the "give" of the strap permitted, his head shaken like a peain a box, Barcroft was only dimly conscious that the job had beendone almost too well. In spite of the danger of his hazardousposition he was filled with a sense of elation. The seaplane hadscored heavily, and for the present nothing else mattered. Deafenedby the thunderous explosion, unable to see a hand's length in frontof his face, he was at a loss to ascertain whether the motor wasstill running or whether the seaplane was engaging in a finaltail-spin.
Mechanically he grasped the joy-stick. The seaplane was then loopingthe loop for the third consecutive time. Something--what it was hewas unable to ascertain--hit the fuselage with a resounding crash.The lightly-built fabric trembled under the impact. It seemed as ifthe body of the machine had been ripped asunder.
At nearly a hundred miles an hour the seaplane cleared the edge ofthe drifting smoke. She was then "on an even keel," but about tonose-dive towards the surface of the sea, barely a couple of hundredfeet below.
The sudden transition to the light of day recalled Billy to a senseof his responsibilities. The engine was working, although he heardonly a very subdued buzz. Something had to be done to avoid theimpending violent impact with the waves.
Billy did it--how, he could never remember, but, as in a dream, heregained control of the badly-shaken craft and began to climbresolutely from the scene of his exploit.
A hasty glance at the planes revealed the unpleasant fact that hugerents were visible in the fabric. It seemed marvellous how thegreatly-reduced wing-surface could impart sufficient lifting powerto the machine; yet, with a disconcerting wobble she held her ownagainst the attraction of gravity.
He turned his head, half expecting to find that Kirkwood was nolonger his companion, but to his unbounded satisfaction he saw theA.P. still in his seat. Not only that, but Bobby was grinning withintense glee at the successful issue of the encounter between thegiant and the p
igmy. His face was as black as a sweep's and streakedwith blood, his flying helmet had vanished, leaving his scorchedhair rippling in the furious breeze.
Picking up the voice-tube the irrepressible observer shoutedsomething to his companion. Only a strange rumble reached Barcroft'sear. He had been rendered absolutely deaf by the concussion.
Pulling his diary from his pocket Kirkwood scribbled a few words andhanded his paper to the pilot.
"How's that?" read Billy. "Fritz got it in the neck that time.That's a great strafe." Billy held the voice-tube to his mouth inorder to reply, but no sound came from his lips. Like a blow from asledge-hammer the awful truth came home to him. He was deaf andspeechless.