CHAPTER XIX
At the Mercy of the Winds
IT would ill describe the state of mind of the deputy commandant ofthe fortress of Heligoland to say that he was thunderstruck at thelatest disaster that had overtaken one of the German air fleet. Itwas he who had given the order for the gunners to bring down thederelict. Their failure to do so only increased his consternation. Hewas almost in a state of stupefaction. At one moment he raved at theindiscretion of the commander of the Zeppelin in attempting to cometo earth in a gale of wind; at another he sat with his hands claspedtightly across his eyes, as if trying to shut out the inglorioussight of the hitherto peerless airship drifting helplessly at themercy of the elements.
Then came the disconcerting news that one of the spies had escaped.The ruins of his cell had been hastily examined without any tracebeing found of his body, and it was owing solely to the statement ofone of the men, who said he believed he saw the Englishman clingingto the wreckage, that the authorities came to the hasty, but none theless accurate, decision that such indeed was the case. This stirredthe second commandant to action. He ordered the whole of the secondflotilla of torpedo-boat destroyers to proceed at once to sea, in thehope that they might overhaul the errant Zeppelin should the galemoderate.
In less than ten minutes from the time of receiving the order thefirst of the destroyers left South Haven, followed with commendablecelerity by her consorts. Regardless of the high-crested seas theysteamed under forced draught. Dense clouds of black smoke, tingedwith dull-red flame, belched from their squat funnels, which speedilybecame white with salt. Swept fore and aft, even at the risk ofcarrying away most of the deck gear the frail vessels rushed throughthe blackness of the night, spreading fanwise between north-west andsouth-west in order to cover the possible limits of the object of thesearch.
Meanwhile a wireless message in code was dispatched to the GermanAdmiralty. It was useless to conceal the magnitude of the disaster,but one point was omitted. No reference was made to the supposedpresence of the English spy upon the derelict. That information wassent only to General Heinrich von Wittelsbach, who was on the pointof returning to resume his command.
The fates seemed to be working against Von Wittelsbach. Almost on thetop of his carefully-worded denial to his emperor came thedisquieting report that Hamerton was on board the fugitive Zeppelin.The commandant's sole hope lay in the destroyers which had beendispatched in search of the truant. Should they fail, it was morethan likely that the airship would either be driven across to GreatBritain or else fall into the sea. Her huge bulk could hardly passunnoticed by the scores of British trawlers at work on the Dogger,since from the direction of the wind the Zeppelin would be blowndirectly over that great fishing ground. In either case Hamertonstood a fighting chance of being saved, and then the truth would out.
Early on the following morning Von Wittelsbach embarked on a lightcruiser that had orders to await him at Cuxhaven. Twenty minuteslater the vessel anchored in South Haven. The destroyers were evennow returning from their fruitless search; their wireless messagestold the same tale with monotonous and depressing regularity; and toadd to the irony of the situation the short summer's gale had blownitself out, and the sun shone brilliantly from a cloudless sky. Thesea had subsided, and only a long oily swell served to remind thefisher folk of the Frisians and the shores of Schleswig-Holstein ofthe storm that had wrought havoc on their coasts.
For the rest of the day General von Wittelsbach remained shut up inthe Government House, waiting and waiting, hoping against hope thatthe threatened exposure of his duplicity might yet pass away.
Throughout the short summer's night Hamerton clung to his frailsupport. He gloried in his position. Nothing seemed to trouble him.Here he was floating in hundreds of feet in the air, and being rapidlyborne westward by the partially crippled Zeppelin.
The aircraft, being entirely out of control, was nothing more than anon-dirigible balloon. For the most part she drifted broadside on tothe wind, occasionally describing a pendulum-like motion in ahorizontal plane. Otherwise she was fairly steady, with hardly anytendency to dip her bow or stern. The air was warm, the threatenedrain had not fallen, the airship seemed far above the surface of thesea, and showed no inclination of descending. By occasional bearingsfrom certain well-known stars, the Sub derived the consolation thatthe westward drift was still maintained.
Day began to break: a grey light in the north-east betokened theapproaching dawn and the coming of fine weather. This lattercircumstance was not pleasing to the self-constituted crew of theairship. He realized that with the falling of the wind the progressof the Zeppelin would naturally be retarded. His wish was to place asmany miles betwixt himself and his prison isle as he could in theshortest possible time. He had counted upon that; but if hung up inthe middle of the North Sea the airship stood a chance of recaptureby German torpedo craft, or destruction by the guns of the Teutonicseaplanes, which he fully expected would be sent for that purpose.
The exhilaration of the pure air raised his already buoyant spirits.He felt as if he could dance a hornpipe even on the narrow girder onwhich he sat. Instead, he began to whistle, till the effort remindedhim very forcibly of the pangs of hunger.
It was now light enough to see about him. He found himself just infront of the ruins of the after nacelle, that looked almost exactlylike a railway carriage with the floor knocked out. Abaft were theremains of two of the propellers, with only one blade left intact.The alley way communicating with the midship and foremost cars wasoriginally outside the outer aluminium envelope. This had been tornaway for a length of nearly a hundred feet, only the longitudinalgirders and a few vertical rods remaining.
Could the Sub successfully make his way over that intervening spacehe would be able to find ample floor space in and on each side of thecentral nacelle, that had practically escaped damage.
It would be a risky performance, but Hamerton decided to hazard it.It was like "laying along" the foreyard of a square-rigged ship, onlywithout the footropes. Instead, there was the grip afforded by thestill-holding aluminium stays, which, although more than anarm's-length apart, could be made good use of, provided the climberdid not lose his balance when halfway between.
Standing upright upon the narrow metal track Hamerton mentallymeasured the distance to the nearmost upright rod. It was roughlyabout eight feet. In two rapid but deliberate strides he gained thefirst halting place of his short but hazardous journey. Two morestages gave him increased confidence, and the next thirty feet henegotiated with comparative ease, in spite of the gentle undulatingmotion of the aircraft.
Then came an absence of any support for his hands for a space ofthrice the distance between those he had just passed. Beyond that therest of the way would be easy, for several partially-rent plates,that at one time formed partitions of the envelope, still remainedfixed to the girder.
"Neck or nothing," muttered the Sub. "Here goes!"
Three steps did he take, when his foot slipped. Vainly he tried toregain his balance; the sag of the badly-supported girder, combinedwith the swaying of the airship, prevented him from so doing, andwith outstretched arm he fell sideways off the slender framework.
His left hand caught in the girder, the flat edge rasping the skinalmost to the bone. His fingers gripped as only those of a man usedto working aloft could do: once again his training on the old_Britannia_ stood him in good stead.
Like a flash he threw his right arm over the girder. There he hung,dangling in mid-air, with the imminent prospect of dropping eighthundred feet or so, to be smashed to a pulp as his body struck withfearful velocity the surface of the North Sea.
Not for a moment did he lose his head when once he felt his handsgripping the T-shaped girder. He knew that it would only be a wasteof energy to attempt to clamber back; his one and only chance was tomake his way forward to a place where the bent and jagged aluminiumsheathing would afford precarious foothold to enable him to gain thestill-intact platform in the wake of the midship nacelle.
With a slight effort Hamerton raised his legs sufficiently to enablehis heels to rest on the upper face of the girder. His weight wasthus more evenly distributed, and his arms were no longer taxed totheir fullest strength. He was now clinging with hands and feet tothe under side of the aluminium beam, with his nose only a couple ofinches from the lowermost flange of the T-section.
Slowly he edged towards the place whence he hoped to scramble intosafety. Inch by inch, foot by foot--the distance seemed interminable.Not for an instant did he look down. He knew only too well the fatalconsequences that that indiscretion would entail.
At length his feet touched the metal plate. It was still riveted bythe upper edge of the girder, hanging downwards at an angle of aboutthirty degrees and curling to almost a complete circle near its loweredge.
"Hope to goodness it will hold," thought the Sub. "If it gives, I'mdone."
Cautiously he swung his feet from off the beam. All his weight nowfell upon his fingers. Then his shoe came in contact with the curvedpart of the plate. The aluminium sheet gave slightly, but Hamertonfound, to his unbounded relief, that it offered sufficient resistanceto the pressure to permit him to relax his grip with his right hand.
He lost no time, however, in shifting his grasp so that both handswere on the same side of the girder. Now he was able to half-turn, sothat both feet rested on the curl of the plate.
Summoning his remaining energies, Hamerton sprang. His foothold wassufficiently good for the purpose, although the twisted plate gaveslightly under the pressure. The next instant he was lying on thedeck with his legs dangling over the edge.
Now that the immediate danger was over, he felt dizzy and sick. For amoment or so a white mist swam before his eyes. Had the airshiplurched to port he might have fled into space without being consciousof making an effort to save himself.
After a while the Sub roused himself and took stock of hissurroundings. The platform was barely six feet in width and twenty inlength. On the starboard side was a handrail, which had escaped thefate that had overtaken the greater part of the suspended portions ofthe aircraft. Aft, the platform broke away suddenly, leaving only thegirder which had caused Hamerton such a hazardous journey. The otherend terminated at the bulkhead of the midship nacelle, access towhich was gained by a narrow sliding door.
Even as he looked a hand grasped the edge of the sliding panel,apparently with the intention of drawing it open. In a momentHamerton was on his feet. His dizziness was past, the new phase ofdanger that threatened him aroused all his energies. It was quitepossible that several of the crew might have remained on board; ifso, there were complications ahead.
In vain Hamerton sought for a weapon with which to defend himself.There was nothing: all the twisted aluminium bars within reach werefirmly secured to the platform. He must make the best use of hisfists.
It required considerable effort to double his powerful hands, owingto the strain of hanging on to the girder, combined with thelacerated condition of his palms. But having arrived thus far in hisbid for freedom, Hamerton was not the man to knuckle under tamely; hemeant to make a hard fight for liberty.
The sliding panel was giving the unknown a lot of trouble. Owing tothe violent shocks that the airship had experienced, every part ofthe framework had been strained, and in this instance the door wastightly jammed.
Another hand appeared in sight. It was not that of a second man, butonly the left hand of the still unseen member of the crew. For fullyhalf a minute the fellow wrenched at the non-yielding door, then,giving up his task as a bad job, he relaxed his hold.
A dull thud, followed by a deep groan, told the Sub that the dangerhad been exaggerated. Without hesitation he made his way to the door,and with a heave of his brawny shoulders sent the panel clatteringinto the recess intended for it.
Lying at full length on the floor of the car was a man dressed in theuniform of a lieutenant of the German Navy. His forehead was cakedwith dried blood, his clothes were rent till there was little tochoose between the rags which covered Hamerton's frame and those ofthe injured man.
"It is quite evident that this poor fellow is the only member of thecrew left on board," reasoned the Sub, "unless, of course, there aresome lying stunned in the wreck of the fore nacelle. Otherwise theywould have come to his assistance long before this."
He bent over the wounded officer. The lieutenant was quiteunconscious. His chief injury, Hamerton found by a hasty examination,consisted of a bruise over the right temple. In the centre of theforehead was a deep, clear cut that could be treated lightly,although the appearance of the congealed blood made the wound lookfar more dangerous than it actually was.
"I wonder where I can find some water?" thought Hamerton. "I'llinvestigate."
The midship car was principally devoted to officers' cabins, therebeing two on the port side of the through gangway and one tostarboard. The contents of all three had been completely wrecked bythe concussion. Water bottles and jugs lay smashed to fragments uponthe floor. In the midst of the debris he noticed a razor; this hecarefully set aside, vowing to remove the straggling beard that wasbeginning to make itself particularly aggressive at the firstopportunity.
For'ard of the nacelle, and adjoining the place formerly occupied bythe motors, were two large tanks, one on either side of the gangway.One had been "started", a large rent showing in the sheet metal. Theother was intact, and full of water.
"Salt!" ejaculated Hamerton disgustedly. "Water ballast, of course.It may come in handy though."
Continuing his forward pilgrimage the Sub reached the wreckage of theforemost car. Here the twelve-pounder gun had fallen through thefloor, leaving jagged portions of the floor plates sufficiently wideto allow the Sub to gain the interior. In one corner of a subdivisionof the compartment stood a metal freshwater tank, and close to it, ina rack, a number of cups. Without delay the Sub, carefully carrying asmall quantity of water, made his way back to where the woundedofficer lay.
The German was still insensible. Drawing a handkerchief from theunconscious man's pocket Hamerton dipped it in the water andproceeded to wash the cut in his forehead. As he did so he recognizedthat fate had thrown an old acquaintance across his path, for theofficer was Lieutenant Schwalbe, the same who had effected Hamerton'sarrest on board the _Diomeda_.
Having attended to the injured man as well as the limited means athis disposal would admit, the Sub decided that it was time he made anexamination of the aircraft that had under remarkable circumstancescome under his command.
Looking down over the rail he found that the Zeppelin was maintaininga height of about a thousand feet. Unknown to him the vessel haddropped to less than a fifth of that distance just before dawn, butwith the rise of temperature following sunrise she had regained herformer altitude.
The sea was still foam-flecked, and, although it was impossible toform an accurate description of the state of the waves from thatheight, Hamerton had reason to suppose that the gale had not yetblown itself out.
Allowing the average rate of the derelict to be forty-five miles anhour, he came to the conclusion that she was now--unless thedirection had changed--within a hundred and fifty miles of theNorthumberland or Berwickshire coast.
As far as the eye could see the surface of the water was unbroken byany vessel large or small. The North Sea seemed entirely deserted.
The pangs of hunger, that had been temporarily banished while the Subwas attending to the injured Schwalbe, now reasserted themselves, andafter a short search Hamerton discovered the officers' pantry,practically intact. After the hard fare he had been accustomed toduring his enforced detention at Heligoland the meal that followedseemed the best he had ever had in his life, his appetite whetted bythe bracing air and the joyous satisfaction that he had regained hisfreedom.
A shave and a wash still further heightened his satisfaction, and,the deficiencies of his wardrobe demanding attention, he had noscruples in throwing overboard his ragged parti-coloured uniform ofcaptivity and donning a greatcoat and t
rousers of one of the officersof the airship.
"By Jove! I wonder how the crew got to the platform on top of theenvelope?" he exclaimed. "I really must see what the 'Mount Misery'of a Zeppelin is like."
His first effort in that direction was to make a thorough examinationof the sub-compartments of the midship car, but no signs of a meansof gaining the elevated deck were forthcoming. Nor would he againrisk the hazardous way along the single girder to the remains of theafter nacelle.
Again he went for'ard. Almost immediately within the bow nacelle, andto the right of the sliding door, was a vertical flight of stepsformed by means of steel bars set across an angle of the compartment.
"These must lead somewhere," he argued, "although they don't appearto. So here goes!"
From the third step he was able to touch the aluminium plating thatformed the ceiling of the nacelle. His hand came in contact with ametal knob that had in the gloom hitherto escaped his notice.
Backwards and forwards he strove to move this object. It seemedimmovable. He tugged, pushed, twisted it all to no purpose.
"Like everything else on board this blessed packet the thing'sjammed," he growled. "I'll get a cold chisel from the armourer'schest and cut a hole through the plate. Great Christopher Columbus!what's that?"
A bell was ringing violently in some part of the aircraft. Perhaps,after all, there were more of the crew still at their posts on theupper platform?
He was about to descend, when, his eyes getting more accustomed tothe gloom, he caught sight of a bolt placed at less than a foot fromthe knob that had so completely baffled his efforts.
He drew back the bolt. The flap above his head immediately swung backon a pivot, disclosing a long tunnel-like shaft. Simultaneously thebell ceased to ring.
"What a silly ass I am!" declared Hamerton. "I see the game. Bytouching that knob a bell rings for the purpose of warning those ondeck that someone is ascending. That is quite feasible, since twopersons could not pass each other in this exaggerated tin-whistlepipe."
Without hesitation he commenced to climb. The interior of the tubewas of polished aluminium and reflected shafts of light that enteredfrom the open top. He could see the blue sky overhead.
It was a long climb, for the vertical passage was nearly fifty feetin height. It reminded the Sub of the interior of a battleship'smast. A faint scent of hydrogen assailed his nostrils. Whether it wasan accidental leakage sufficiently serious to affect the buoyancy ofthe airship or merely the natural wastage from the ballonettes theSub knew not.
Upon gaining the upper platform Hamerton's first act was to inspectthe fore-and-aft shelters. Both were deserted. They were alsopractically intact. The standard compass for'ard was in workingorder. More by force of habit than anything else he glanced at thecard. The Zeppelin's bows were pointing due east--exactly theopposite direction to the way he wanted.
This was a most disconcerting discovery. To be ignominiously borneback into German territory was humiliating. Rather than let thathappen he would attack the ballonettes, liberate the hydrogen, andallow the aircraft to settle, half-water-logged, on the North Sea.
Hamerton glanced at his watch and found it was a quarter to five.That puzzled him, since by the position of the sun it must be nearereight o'clock. A second look showed him that his watch had stopped.He remembered that, contrary to custom, he had omitted to wind it.
Presently a thought struck him. Walking to the end of a transversebridge he looked downward. A long way below and far from theperpendicular a large shadow was cast upon the sea. It was the shadowof the airship across the sun's rays. For a full minute he watched itintently, then he gave a sigh of relief.
In his mild panic in noting the direction of the Zeppelin's bows hehad forgotten that, drifting at the mercy of the winds, she wasliable to swing horizontally in any direction. By observing thedirection of the path of the shadow his mind was set at rest. Theairship was drifting nearly sou'-sou'-west.
"That's much better, thanks be!" he ejaculated fervently. "If thiscontinues I shall land, not in the north, but somewhere in Norfolk orSuffolk. Perhaps within sight of Lowestoft. But I'll swear theblessed ship is lower than she was. I wonder where I can find thealtitude gauge? And the wind is falling too. That shadow shows we aretravelling at a bare twenty knots."
Just then the Sub gave a hasty look round over the vast circle ofsea. Something caught his eye. He looked steadily for a few secondsto make sure there was no mistake.
Less than five miles off was a large torpedo-boat destroyer, peltingalong at top speed. Her commander had spotted the Zeppelin, of thatthere could be no doubt. Was the oncoming craft one of the Germandestroyers, dispatched to recapture or destroy the errant airship?
The Sea-girt Fortress: A Story of Heligoland Page 19
