Billy Barcroft, R.N.A.S.: A Story of the Great War
Page 38
CHAPTER XXXVIII
SNATCHED FROM HER PURSUERS
KIRKWOOD was quick to grasp the nature of the calamity that hadovertaken his chum. Although considerably shaken by the concussionthe observer was still in possession of his senses, except that hishearing was slightly impaired.
Again a slip of paper passed between the two chums. On it Kirkwoodhad written:--"Enemy torpedo craft leaving Heligoland. Are you fitto carry on? Want any help?"
Barcroft, reading the slip, nodded. The mere suggestion ofrelinquishing his command "bucked him up" considerably. A glanceshowed that Kirkwood's announcement was correct. From the anchorageon the northeast side of the island a regular swarm of hornets wasemerging some of the boats steaming towards the scene of thedisaster to the battleship, others heading in the direction taken bythe seaplane responsible for the great catastrophe.
The new danger could be treated lightly provided the seaplane wasable to carry on and fall in with her parent ship. The torpedo-boatswere not within range of their guns, while the speed of the seaplanewas more than double that of the swiftest of her pursuers, even inher damaged condition. Should the chase be maintained for any lengthof time there was a chance of the British destroyers cutting offsome, if not all, of the hostile craft.
"Wireless the 'Hippo,'" wrote Barcroft, receiving the laconic reply"Can't." The delicate apparatus had been put out of action when theseaplane staggered under the force of the explosion.
"Then that's done it," thought Billy, pulling off his gloves andrunning his finger over a slight, almost imperceptible, dent in thepetrol tank. The engine was missing badly, and although able to notethe fact by observation the pilot guessed rightly that the preciousfluid was leaking. Holding his fingers to his nostrils he couldfaintly smell the volatile fluid. The petrol was leaking, andevaporating as fast as it came in contact with the air.
The application of a piece of soap to the minute fracturetemporarily remedied matters, but the mischief was already done. Thepetrol was almost exhausted.
By this time the German torpedo-boats were almost out of sight, meredots upon the horizon, their position indicated by long trailingclouds of black smoke. Some uncanny knowledge must have urged thecommanders of the various boats to hang on to what appeared to be afruitless chase. To them the seaplane would be almost invisibleunless they kept her under observation by means of their binoculars.In that case they must have noticed the little aircraft graduallydropping towards the surface of the sea.
Anxiously Barcroft scanned the expanse of water in front--a clearfield of sea bounded by an unbroken horizon. The seaplane carriersand their strong escort had steamed homewards, taking it for grantedthat one at least of the raiders on Cuxhaven had been brought downby the heavy hostile fire.
The attempt had been only moderately successful. The fog that hadbaffled Barcroft had enveloped the rest of the British seaplanesbefore they had time to get properly to work. Altogether a dozenbombs had been dropped upon the naval port, before the thick bank ofhaze enveloped them and hid their desired object from their view.
Greeted by a tremendous fire from the German Archibalds, the raidersreturned in safety; for the Huns, baffled by the thick weather,could only fire at random. With a few minor damages the airmenregained their respective parent ships, and then it was discoveredthat Barcroft and Kirkwood had not returned. None of the otherflying men had sighted their machine after the first few minutes ofthe outward flight. It was therefore concluded that the two men werelost, and notwithstanding Fuller's request to make a search, the"Hippodrome" and her consorts steamed westward.
Although Barcroft felt acute disappointment at finding that thevessels had left the rendezvous, he realised that no blame could beattached to the officers responsible for the order to return. Had heflown straight back he might have been in time, but it was thebombing of the battleship that had delayed him.
"It's jolly well worth it," he soliloquised. "But we look like beingin the cart again. I begin to think that Kirkwood is a bit of aJonah, although hitherto he's managed to turn up safely. Hope hisluck--and mine--will still hold good."
A motionless blade of the propeller, coming across his field ofvision, betokened the unpleasant fact that the motor had refusedduty. Almost imperturbably Billy held on to the joy-stick, guidingthe seaplane on her long seaward glide.
The A.P., thinking that something had befallen his chum, leant overthe curved deck of the chassis and touched his shoulder.
Barcroft smiled in reply and pointed to the empty petrol-tank--asmile that restored his companion's confidence. Nevertheless the volplane was a dangerous one. The reduction of the wing-spread, badenough when the machine was driving furiously through the air,caused the seaplane to slip badly while solely under the attractionof gravity. Should a "slip" occur just before the floats took thewater the chance of a fatal capsize were almost a dead certainty.
Realising such a possibility the A.P., who had already unbuckled hiswaist-strap, kept on the alert, ready at the first sign of adisaster to hack through his companion's belt with a keen knife.Even then he wondered what was the use? With no help in sight theirfruitless struggle for life would only be unnecessarily prolonged.Then came the opposing thought: while there's life there's hope, andnever say die till you're dead.
Again the volplaning craft side-slipped. Barcroft was only just intime to regain control, and making a faultless "landing," broughthis command to an aerial rest upon the surface. It could not betermed other than an aerial rest, for the simple reason that thewaterborne fabric was rolling and pitching in the short steep seasthat are to be met with off the flat Frisian shore.
"For one thing the day is long," thought Billy as he stood uprightupon the deck of the swaying chassis and, supporting himself by oneof the struts, looked fixedly in the direction of the pursuingtorpedo-boats. They were no longer visible, the difference inaltitude having put them below the horizon, but the ominous cloudsof smoke told the flight-sub that the Huns were still persisting intheir search. It was just possible, however, that they might passsome miles to windward and not sight the inconspicuous disabledseaplane in that waste of waters.
Even supposing such to be the case, what fate was in store for thecrew of this helpless machine? This part of the North Sea on whichthey had alighted was a sort of nautical No Man's Land. Fishingvessels gave it a wide berth, fearing the deadly and unseen menaceof the mines. Merchantmen no longer followed the once busy maritimehighway that led to the erstwhile prosperous port of Hamburg. Savefor rare excursions on the part of the German torpedo flotillas andthe occasional "sweeps" of Beatty's light cruisers and destroyersnothing afloat was likely to pass that way. Should the seaplaneremain seaborne sufficiently long she might drift ashore, but fromthe direction of the wind it was pretty obvious that she would do sosomewhere on the German Frisian group outside the southern portionof the chain of islands belonging to neutral Holland.
The A.P. nudged his companion and tendered his cigarette case.Kirkwood was already smoking a pipe on the principle that he neverknew when he might have a chance of another. Billy took theproffered cigarette and lit it. The tobacco seemed tasteless. Withhis lack of speech the flavour of the fragrant weed was denied him.
Nearer and nearer came the smudges of smoke. The Huns were hard onthe track of the crippled seaplane. Already Barcroft coulddistinguish the grey funnels just visible above the sky-line.
"We must destroy our maps and documents," he wrote. "When I give theword smash the floats. Don't forget your air-collar."
Fumbling in the locker the observer produced a pneumatic life-savingarrangement, which, when inflated, was capable of supporting itswearer for an indefinite time.
Suddenly in the midst of the task of inflating the collar Kirkwoodremoved the tube from his lips. The air rushed out, and the rubberfabric collapsed like a punctured pneumatic tyre, while the A.P.stared with wide-open eyes at something not more than a hundredyards distant above the surface of the water.
"A periscope, by Jove!" he exclaimed, m
aking a grab at his maps andpapers. They, at all events, had to be destroyed.
Although his companion heard not a sound his attention was attractedby Kirkwood's manner. He, too, saw the spar-like object forgingslowly ahead--so slowly that the cleavage of the water wasinsufficient to throw up the usual tell-tale feather of spray.
Deliberately, almost human-like, the eye of the periscope turnedslowly in a complete circle. The submarine, satisfied that there wasno immediate danger to be anticipated, shook herself clear of thewater, disclosing her conning-tower and a portion of the hull of oneof the British G Class.
Hardly able to credit their good fortune the flight-sub and hiscompanion thrust their maps into their pockets and began to wave forassistance a quite unnecessary act since the lieutenant-commander ofG 21 had already concluded rightly that the airmen were hiscompatriots in distress.
Five or six of her crew appearing on the long, narrow deck, theungainly hull of the submarine, skilfully manoeuvred, approachedsufficiently close to enable Kirkwood to catch a coil of rope, andthe seaplane was hauled alongside.
"Jump, sir!" shouted a petty officer.
Although unable to hear the words Barcroft understood the gesture.He waited until his observer had leapt, then seizing a small axefrom the body of the fuselage, he shattered each of the frailfloats, and as his command sank beneath his feet he scrambled up thebulging side of the rescuing submarine.
"Barcroft's deaf and dumb," Kirkwood explained to a sympatheticlieutenant. "You'd better look sharp. There are a dozen strafedtorpedo-boats after us."
"P'raps it's as well if we do," commented the officer. "I'll troubleyou for your yarn when we are snugly down below."
In less than a minute the crew and the rescued airmen werehermetically sealed in the hull of G 21, and descending to a depthof fifteen fathoms the submarine rested upon the bed of the NorthSea until the German torpedo-craft, foiled in their endeavour tolocate their quarry, steamed back to the security of the innerroadstead of Heligoland.