Billy Barcroft, R.N.A.S.: A Story of the Great War

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER IV

  WHEN THE ZEPPELIN WAS OUT

  "WE'LL have to foot it, man," declared Entwistle decidedly. "Unlesswe can get a car to pick us up on the road. Zeppelins, by smoke!Whoever would have thought it? I didn't; not this side of thePennines."

  "So I believe you said," replied Peter Barcroft, as the two menswung down the inclined approach to the station and gained the settsof the dingy street. "Still, they may be miles away. These officialwarnings are the pattern of eccentricity. You know the road?"

  "Yes fortunately Dash it all! I don't mind the excitement. It's mywife I'm thinking about, if they should come to Barborough. Everseen a Zep., Barcroft?"

  "Several," replied Peter. "They are fairly common objects down inKent. Get quite accustomed to them. Latterly I have slept soundly,in spite of the noise of the engines. Of course they didn't drop anybombs in that particular district. In point of fact they eventuallydumped their dangerous cargo into some fields a few miles fromanywhere. Our lighting restrictions are far more stringent than theyare up here. Barborough is a blaze of light compared, say, withTangtable or Cobley, the nearest large towns to Alderdene, where Iused to live."

  "You used to sleep through it," repeated Mr. Entwistle. "Thatreminds me. I noticed that when we were walking up and down theplatform just now you invariably got round to my left as we turned.Are you deaf in one ear?"

  "Yes," replied Peter. "Stone deaf in my left. A really valuableasset when one has to be in the presence of bores, or enduringcurtain lectures and the like."

  "Then we may congratulate ourselves," was his companion's response."I, too, am deaf, only in my right ear. When I was at school atScarborough a brute of a master hiked me up by my ears. Result,deafness in one of them. Yes, I agree, it's very convenient attimes."

  By now they had breasted the steep rise out of Windyhill and hadgained the bleak summit of the lofty ridge. In ordinarycircumstances would be seen the twinkling lights from scores offactories--"works" as these are termed locally--in the five distinctvalleys that radiate from this particular spur. All was now in utterdarkness, save for a feeble glimmer from an isolated signal-box atthe entrance to a deep cutting.

  "That chap's looking for trouble," declared Barcroft, indicating thedim patch of luminosity. "They would spot that for a distance of tenmiles. I say, isn't the atmosphere clear for this part of thecountry, and in autumn, too. It's the first absolutely fine night Ihave seen since I've lived here--ideal for Zeps., too. No wind tospeak of and pitch dark. Listen."

  The two men stopped abruptly. Above the faint rumble of the eveningbreeze could be distinguished a subdued and distinct hum.

  "That's the brute," declared Peter. "It's a Zep, sure enough."

  "Certain?" asked Entwistle anxiously.

  "Rather--and it's coming this way."

  In silence the two pedestrians waited. Nearer and nearer came thenow increasing buzzing of the engines of the immense gas-bag. Vainlythey attempted to detect the elongated airship. With heads thrownback they strove to pierce the black vault above. The "thing" wasthere, but it was invisible from where they stood. Only by thesinister sounds did they know of its presence. Then with the samerapidity as the unseen had approached the whirr grew fainter andfainter until it was heard no longer.

  "Phew!" ejaculated Entwistle, mopping his forehead. "I'm not of afunky nature, but, by Jove! I'm glad that beastly thing's gone. Itgives a fellow a peculiar sensation somewhere in the region of thestomach. What's the time?"

  "About eleven, I should imagine," replied Barcroft. "I won't strikea match. Well, I suppose the Zep. has missed Barborough by thistime--unless she's slowed down and circling over the town," he addedin an undertone.

  They were descending into one of the numerous valleys that laybetwixt them and Tarleigh. The effluvium of a neighbouring bleachingworks was wafted to their nostrils.

  "Rufford's Works," explained Entwistle. "Lucky that Zep didn't dropa bomb. There are hundreds of gallons of benzine stored there....Yes, I fancy it's all right as far as Barborough is concerned. Wisha car would overtake us. Notwithstanding the fine night I don't feelparticularly keen for a long tramp."

  "Let me give you a shakedown at Ladybird Fold," suggested Peter."You can telephone through to Barborough and let your wife knowwhere you are."

  "No, no, my dear fellow," protested Entwistle. "It's imposing onyour good nature. Besides, you mentioned that your son was cominghome on leave."

  "Yes," said Mr. Barcroft. "Wonder if he's arrived yet, or is held upat some out-of-the-way railway station or in a tunnel. That won'tmake any difference. If it did I shouldn't have mentioned thematter. I can be as confoundedly blunt as you Lancashire people whenI want."

  "So I believe," rejoined Entwistle tersely. "Well, I'll accept youroffer with pleasure. Now for the next hill. It's a regular brute,even for this part of the world. When a fellow is past forty he'snot so good at this sort of work as he was. One has to admit thefact however much one tries to stifle the discovery. I used to pridemyself on being a runner, and it came as a nasty shock when myfifteen-year-old son beat me in a 440 sprint--not by so very much,though," he added in defence of his bygone prowess.

  "The third milestone," announced Peter pointing to a weatherbeatenslab just visible in the gloom.

  "Yes, and the highest part of the road," added Entwistle. "It isabout----".

  He stopped abruptly. Away to the southward a vivid flash illuminatedthe sky, followed by three more in quick succession. Summerlightning would pale into insignificance compared with the intensityof those momentary sheets of lurid light.

  "Good heavens--Barborough!" ejaculated the vet.

  Barcroft made no remark. Failing his inability to read the face ofhis watch he placed the fingers of his right hand on his left wristand carefully counted the pulse beats.

  "Forty-five!" he announced calmly as the first of four louddetonations rent the air.

  Crash--crash--crash--crash. It was as if he had been inside a tinbath and some one was belabouring it with a wooden mallet. Evenallowing for the distance of the source of the sound the din wasterrible.

  A minute later came two more flashes, almost simultaneously, withforty-eight beats before the reports. Then one solitary flashfollowed by an even greater interval ere the detonation was heard.

  "The brutes!" muttered Entwistle.

  Again Peter made no audible comment. He was making a rapid mentalcalculation. Seventy pulsations to a minute: sound travels atroughly 365 yards to a second. Yes, that placed the scene of theraid at a distance of nine miles, and judging by the direction itwas that populous town that had been the target for the missiles ofthe Zeppelin.

  "She's gone, at any rate," he said.

  "Yes, but goodness only knows what damage she's done in that minuteand a half," added Entwistle. "What's more we're between her andthat cursed Germany. Come on, man, let's hasten."

  It was half-past twelve as the two pedestrians made their waythrough the village of Scatterbeck. Almost the whole of thepopulation was astir, discussing in the shrill rapid Lancashiredialect the totally unexpected visit of the aerial raider. Thriceenquiries on the part of Barcroft and his companion brought thedisconcerting information that no vehicle of any description wasavailable. There was nothing for it but to continue their longtramp.

  At length the summit of Tarleigh Hill was surmounted. Here theyencountered a belated wayfarer--a watchman from the neighbouringworks.

  "Eh, maaester," he replied to an anxious question. "I'm thinkin' 'tesBarborough right enow. Seed 'em drop mysen, an' agen ower Percombeway. Eh, but there'll be a rush to t' recruitin' office after this.Lancashire's done main well in sojerin', but this'll cap everythin'.This night's work'll cost that there Kayser summat when theBarborough lads in t' trenches get to know o' it."

  "That fellow's right," commented Mr. Barcroft after the watchman hadtaken a by-road. "These Zeps, do very little military damage. Theydon't intimidate or terrify the people, except, perhaps, those inthe actual district raided. The German bomb
s are like the dragon'steeth of mythology; sown, they spring up as British soldiers, eagerto avenge themselves upon the Kaiser's troops. If I had my way I'drun cheap excursions to the raided areas from Bristol, Exeter andother towns as yet not troubled with the Zeps. to let the people seethe damage done to British homes. That would stir their imaginationsand let 'em think strongly. Instead, all details of raids are kept,or are endeavoured to be kept, a profound secret by our wiseacres inauthority. The report of the damage done is minimised--not that Iwould suggest making the news public as far as buildings of militaryimportance are concerned--and the result is that the phlegmaticBriton who is not directly affected by the raid merely reads thebald newspaper account, mentally consigns the Government toperdition and forgets all about it."

  "According to that American lecturer, Curtin, they do things betterin France," added Entwistle. "The French allow full descriptions ofthe Zeppelin raids in their country to be published, and the resultis discouraging to the Huns. At the time we were referring to theseraids taking place in the 'eastern counties,' when the Germans knewexactly where they had been. I shouldn't wonder if this night'saffair is described as taking place on the East Coast or the SouthMidlands instead of within sight of the Irish Sea."

  "And yet nothing did more to depress the Germans than the humorousand true accounts of the Zep, raids that were eventually allowed toappear in the British newspapers."

  "Except when we do bag half a dozen of them at one swoop," added thevet. "Mark my words, we'll get our own back with interest."

  "What's the matter?" asked Peter, noticing that his companion hadreduced his pace and was limping slightly.

  "Galled heel, worse luck," replied the vet. Even in the darknessBarcroft could discern his face twitching. "But it's nothing. I'llstick it."

  "Look here," declared Barcroft authoritatively. There were timeswhen the easy-going Peter could make himself obeyed. "It's all jollyrot your carrying on. You'll be lame in another mile. You must stickto the original programme, and stop at my place. What's happened atBarborough has happened, and your presence there to-night won't mendmatters. Besides, there's the telephone."

  Entwistle capitulated. In fact he was in great pain. The injury tohis foot was more than he cared to admit. Not only was his heelbadly chafed, but he had twisted his ankle on a loose stone.

  "All right," he replied. "But suppose I can't get through on the'phone?"

  "You will," said Barcroft confidently. "Now: hang on to my arm. It'sonly a couple of hundred yards up the hill."

  The last two hundred yards was a pilgrimage of pain. The approachwas along a narrow lane paved with irregular slabs and enshrouded:with trees that threw the path into even greater gloom than the highroad. The blackness was so intense that it appeared to haveweight--to press upon their eyeballs like a tightly adjustedbandage. Away to the left came the gurgle of a mountain stream as itflowed swiftly through a deep cutting in the rocks.

  "Here we are," said Peter at last.

  "Yes," agreed Entwistle. "I know the place."

  They were now clear of the trees. Looming mistily against the darksky was a long, rambling, two-storeyed building surrounded by aroughly built stone wall. The latticed windows were heavilycurtained. Not a light nor a sound came from the isolated dwelling.

  "So Billy hasn't turned up yet," remarked Barcroft senior as hefumbled for his key. "Why, by Jove, the door's wide open!"