Billy Barcroft, R.N.A.S Part 29

At the meeting of the path with the by-road the patrol-leader stopped.

"It's straight on to Scarby," he explained. "Bennet," he added, addressing his companion. "You go with these sailors and show them the coastguard station. Then come back; bring the other fellows along with you if they've returned. I'll go to the beach again in case there are more to be shown the path up the valley."

Meanwhile Lieutenant-commander Ronald Tressidar was "standing by"

his wrecked vessel. He had done everything he could in the interests of the crew. Until day broke it was impossible to form an accurate idea of the extent of the disaster. It was galling to lose his command; there would be a court of inquiry. Of the issue of that Tressidar had no misgivings. The "Antipas" had run ash.o.r.e in the course of an action with an enemy submarine. The mishap was to be deplored, but it was unavoidable. The destruction of the hostile submarine had been accomplished. That was the object of the destroyer's _raison d'etre_.

"Can we be of any use?" asked Fuller.

"Not in the slightest, thanks," replied the youthful skipper. "The best you fellows can do is to go ash.o.r.e. Goodness only knows if there's a railway anywhere in the neighbourhood. At any rate, you can make your way back to Rosyth, and better luck next time. If by any possible chance I can keep you clear of the court of inquiry I will do so. I know perfectly well that you want to be hard at it again, and the 'Hippodrome' seems likely to be particularly busy very shortly, according to all accounts."

"Good luck, old man!" said Fuller earnestly, The three airmen shook hands with the skipper, and dropping into the whaler were rowed sh.o.r.ewards.

"Hard lines on old Tress," declared Fuller. "He'll come out with flying colours, of course; but just fancy the poor fellow cooling his heels ash.o.r.e waiting for another command when out there----"

And with a comprehensive sweep of his hand he indicated the seemingly limitless expanse of the North Sea--the arena where the question of naval supremacy will be settled, let us hope once and for all time in favour of the glorious White Ensign.

CHAPTER XXIV

ENTWISTLE'S DECISION

"So this is the coastguard station?" asked Billy Barcroft of his youthful guide. "Any chance of getting a conveyance to the nearest station Tongby, I believe?"

"I am afraid not, sir."

"Even this donkey might be pressed into service," continued the flight-sub, indicating b.u.t.terfly, who, having been placed "under arrest," was browsing on the green surrounding the flagstaff.

"Although I've had enough of donkeys to last me for some considerable time."

Little knowing that the animal under discussion was the self-same one that had given him the slip at Barborough, Billy, accompanied by his two comrades, entered the detached building known as the look-out house. The ground floor was utilised as a kind of store, where arms and nautical gear were kept. Above was a large room furnished like an office, in which was a telephone as well as a large telescope mounted on a tripod so as to command a clear view of the sea. Being night the windows were closely shuttered, while double doors prevented any stray beams from escaping into the night.

"Up aloft, sir," said the scout. "I'll telephone through and see if a trap or a car can be sent from Tongby. This is our mess room," he explained. "There's a good fire going. Hullo! There's some one here already. I think it's the gentleman who told us about the spy."

Seated on either side of the roaring fire were Peter Barcroft and Philip Entwistle. The former's face was turned away from the door, and at first Billy failed to recognise his parent. Nor did he the vet., for Entwistle's face was elaborately and liberally embellished with sticking-plaster, as the result of First Aid on the part of the Scouts following their determined onslaught on the brink of the cliff.

Entwistle had taken his gruelling in rightdown good part. He was still under nominal arrest, for having been made a prisoner he could only be released at the order of a superior officer. Already a report had been telephoned through and a reply was momentarily expected.

"I am not going to explain the whole business to you, Barcroft,"

said the vet, when Peter expressed his regret at the attack upon his neighbour, and still more so his astonishment at finding him under most peculiar circ.u.mstances on the cliff at Scarby. "Some day, perhaps. I had information--no matter how--that some one was in traitorous communication with enemy submarines. To bring home proofs of the princ.i.p.al's guilt it was necessary to tackle his subordinate.

Unfortunately my plans were upset by the somewhat injudicious intervention of these youngsters--commendable as regards pluck and all that, but nevertheless it spoilt my investigations."

"I didn't know that you were in the detective line," remarked Peter.

Entwistle shrugged his shoulders.

"Perhaps I had better not commit myself by answering your question,"

he replied with a laugh that ended in a wince. It was no easy matter to smile with one's face smothered with sticking-plaster. "I hope you understand my reluctance to say anything more on the matter."

Peter nodded.

"All the same I shall look forward to the time when you are able to emerge from your sh.e.l.l," he said.

"By the bye," remarked the vet, "you haven't told me what brought you to this part of the world. It's taking a one-sided advantage when I ask if _you_ are doing a bit of detective work."

"I was," admitted Mr. Barcroft.

Entwistle raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Tracing the persons who stole my donkey--b.u.t.terfly," continued Peter. "I had the tip that the animal had been taken to Bigthorpe.

Went there to follow up the clue, and strangely enough almost the first man I met was Norton."

"What was he doing at Bigthorpe?"

"I hardly know. Said something about a nervous breakdown. He seemed a bit upset, I thought."

"H'm!" Entwistle, gazed into the fire, deep in thought. "Is he returning to Tarleigh?"

"He's there already, I presume," replied Peter. "However, that has nothing to do with the case I am relating (Entwistle thought otherwise, but refrained from audible comment). At Bigthorpe I found that b.u.t.terfly had been sold to a man at Scarby, so on I came. Quite by accident I met the fellow on the road, kept out of sight and watched him go towards the cliffs. Went and had a look at his cart, discovered it laden with petrol-cans, so I made off immediately to inform the coastguard. The rest you know."

"As to that----" began the vet.

The door being opened interrupted his remarks. Turning his head to see who the newcomers might be, he startled his companion by saying--"Bless my soul, it's young Barcroft."

"Hullo, pater!" said Billy in astonishment. "You here? This is a regular surprise." Peter got up from his chair.

"Pleased to see you, boy," he exclaimed. "As for the surprise, it's nothing. To-day has been a day of surprises. What brings you ash.o.r.e?"

"We were in the destroyer that ran aground," explained the flight-sub. "But let me introduce you to Fuller--you've often heard me speak of him--and Bobby Kirkwood, who, as you know, was, and I hope will continue to be, my observer."

"I thought you were in the 'Hippodrome,'" remarked Barcroft Senior, after mutual introductions and when the three airmen had drawn their chairs close to the comforting fire.

"Officially we are now--at the present moment," said Fuller.

"Unofficially we are toasting our toes on dry land. Before long we hope to be up in the air; I think I am correctly interpreting the wishes of my two energetic chums?"

Conversation was proceeding briskly when one of the Scouts, called to the telephone, reported that a car was on its way to Scarby to convey the airmen to Tongby, and that there was a train leaving the little place at eight in the morning for Bigthorpe, whence by the main line to the north they could reach Edinburgh by about noon.

"And this breaks up the party," quoth Billy as the motor drew up outside the station. "Well, good-bye, pater. Sorry time has been so short."

"Not so fast with your good-byes, my son," protested Peter.

"We--Entwistle and I--are going into Tongby by this car. It may be a tight squeeze, but we'll risk that."

"But how about b.u.t.terfly?" asked Billy.

His father waved his hand deprecatingly.

"I've done with the brute," he replied. "She absolutely refused to greet me. I'm going to make a present of her to these youngsters as a kind of reminder of this night's work. If they don't want her, I suppose there are plenty of people in this village glad to keep her.

Now, Entwistle, best leg forward. It's a long, long way to Tarleigh.