Billy Barcroft, R.N.A.S Part 46

Billy gave a quick glance over his shoulder. To his relief he found Kirkwood cool and imperturbable at his post, awaiting the opportune moment to release another pair of powerful bombs.

One burst aft, utterly knocking out the crew of the anti-aircraft gun that had so nearly strafed their attackers; the other, missing the warship's deck, landed fairly and squarely upon the tug lashed to the starboard side.

The little vessel, totally ripped up amidships, sank amid the roar of escaping steam, but still secured by fore and aft "springs"--wire hawsers stout enough to withstand the strain--she acted as a tremendous drag upon the huge bulk of the battleship.

In vain the latter attempted to check her tendency to swing to starboard by liberal use of the helm. The other tugs, still straining at their task, only made matters worse, until finally the towing craft, unable to check the side strain on her hawser, slewed completely round, and in this position was rammed by the steel prow of the battleship.

By this time Billy had manoeuvred for a third attack. So great was the confusion on the German's decks--most of the men who had survived the explosion bolting from their dubious cover that the seaplane was no longer subjected to a peppering from the Archibalds.

For years naval architects had been increasing the strength of a battleship's side-armour, while the thickness of the "protected"

deck, considered only liable to glancing hits, was kept at about three inches of steel. The present war quickly found the defects of insufficient deck armour. Enormous sh.e.l.ls, fired at a range of eighteen thousand yards, fell almost vertically upon the decks of battleships during the Jutland fight, while the menace from bombs dropped from hostile aircraft was only beginning to be realised.

Slowing down Barcroft again approached his quarry. This time Kirkwood released three of the high-explosive missiles. Two, fairly close together, by the after 11-inch gun turret, completed the business.

With a rush and a roar, indescribably appalling in its t.i.tanic power, the battleship's after magazine exploded. The seaplane, whirled like a feather in a hurricane, was enveloped in a cloud of black smoke tinged with flames and mingled with flying fragments from the disintegrated ship. In utter darkness Billy found himself on the underside of the overturned machine. Only the resisting strength of his broad securing strap saved him from being hurled downward like a stone.

Almost rendered senseless by the asphyxiating fumes, thrown about as far as the "give" of the strap permitted, his head shaken like a pea in a box, Barcroft was only dimly conscious that the job had been done almost too well. In spite of the danger of his hazardous position he was filled with a sense of elation. The seaplane had scored heavily, and for the present nothing else mattered. Deafened by the thunderous explosion, unable to see a hand's length in front of his face, he was at a loss to ascertain whether the motor was still running or whether the seaplane was engaging in a final tail-spin.

Mechanically he grasped the joy-stick. The seaplane was then looping the loop for the third consecutive time. Something--what it was he was unable to ascertain--hit the fuselage with a resounding crash.

The lightly-built fabric trembled under the impact. It seemed as if the body of the machine had been ripped asunder.

At nearly a hundred miles an hour the seaplane cleared the edge of the drifting smoke. She was then "on an even keel," but about to nose-dive towards the surface of the sea, barely a couple of hundred feet below.

The sudden transition to the light of day recalled Billy to a sense of his responsibilities. The engine was working, although he heard only a very subdued buzz. Something had to be done to avoid the impending violent impact with the waves.

Billy did it--how, he could never remember, but, as in a dream, he regained control of the badly-shaken craft and began to climb resolutely from the scene of his exploit.

A hasty glance at the planes revealed the unpleasant fact that huge rents were visible in the fabric. It seemed marvellous how the greatly-reduced wing-surface could impart sufficient lifting power to the machine; yet, with a disconcerting wobble she held her own against the attraction of gravity.

He turned his head, half expecting to find that Kirkwood was no longer his companion, but to his unbounded satisfaction he saw the A.P. still in his seat. Not only that, but Bobby was grinning with intense glee at the successful issue of the encounter between the giant and the pigmy. His face was as black as a sweep's and streaked with blood, his flying helmet had vanished, leaving his scorched hair rippling in the furious breeze.

Picking up the voice-tube the irrepressible observer shouted something to his companion. Only a strange rumble reached Barcroft's ear. He had been rendered absolutely deaf by the concussion.

Pulling his diary from his pocket Kirkwood scribbled a few words and handed 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 in order to reply, but no sound came from his lips. Like a blow from a sledge-hammer the awful truth came home to him. He was deaf and speechless.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII

s.n.a.t.c.hED FROM HER PURSUERS

KIRKWOOD was quick to grasp the nature of the calamity that had overtaken his chum. Although considerably shaken by the concussion the observer was still in possession of his senses, except that his hearing was slightly impaired.

Again a slip of paper pa.s.sed between the two chums. On it Kirkwood had written:--"Enemy torpedo craft leaving Heligoland. Are you fit to carry on? Want any help?"

Barcroft, reading the slip, nodded. The mere suggestion of relinquishing his command "bucked him up" considerably. A glance showed that Kirkwood's announcement was correct. From the anchorage on the northeast side of the island a regular swarm of hornets was emerging some of the boats steaming towards the scene of the disaster to the battleship, others heading in the direction taken by the seaplane responsible for the great catastrophe.

The new danger could be treated lightly provided the seaplane was able to carry on and fall in with her parent ship. The torpedo-boats were not within range of their guns, while the speed of the seaplane was more than double that of the swiftest of her pursuers, even in her damaged condition. Should the chase be maintained for any length of time there was a chance of the British destroyers cutting off some, 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 the seaplane staggered under the force of the explosion.

"Then that's done it," thought Billy, pulling off his gloves and running his finger over a slight, almost imperceptible, dent in the petrol tank. The engine was missing badly, and although able to note the fact by observation the pilot guessed rightly that the precious fluid was leaking. Holding his fingers to his nostrils he could faintly smell the volatile fluid. The petrol was leaking, and evaporating as fast as it came in contact with the air.

The application of a piece of soap to the minute fracture temporarily remedied matters, but the mischief was already done. The petrol was almost exhausted.

By this time the German torpedo-boats were almost out of sight, mere dots upon the horizon, their position indicated by long trailing clouds of black smoke. Some uncanny knowledge must have urged the commanders of the various boats to hang on to what appeared to be a fruitless chase. To them the seaplane would be almost invisible unless they kept her under observation by means of their binoculars.

In that case they must have noticed the little aircraft gradually dropping towards the surface of the sea.

Anxiously Barcroft scanned the expanse of water in front--a clear field of sea bounded by an unbroken horizon. The seaplane carriers and their strong escort had steamed homewards, taking it for granted that one at least of the raiders on Cuxhaven had been brought down by the heavy hostile fire.

The attempt had been only moderately successful. The fog that had baffled Barcroft had enveloped the rest of the British seaplanes before they had time to get properly to work. Altogether a dozen bombs had been dropped upon the naval port, before the thick bank of haze enveloped them and hid their desired object from their view.

Greeted by a tremendous fire from the German Archibalds, the raiders returned in safety; for the Huns, baffled by the thick weather, could only fire at random. With a few minor damages the airmen regained their respective parent ships, and then it was discovered that Barcroft and Kirkwood had not returned. None of the other flying men had sighted their machine after the first few minutes of the outward flight. It was therefore concluded that the two men were lost, and notwithstanding Fuller's request to make a search, the "Hippodrome" and her consorts steamed westward.

Although Barcroft felt acute disappointment at finding that the vessels had left the rendezvous, he realised that no blame could be attached to the officers responsible for the order to return. Had he flown straight back he might have been in time, but it was the bombing of the battleship that had delayed him.

"It's jolly well worth it," he soliloquised. "But we look like being in the cart again. I begin to think that Kirkwood is a bit of a Jonah, although hitherto he's managed to turn up safely. Hope his luck--and mine--will still hold good."

A motionless blade of the propeller, coming across his field of vision, betokened the unpleasant fact that the motor had refused duty. Almost imperturbably Billy held on to the joy-stick, guiding the seaplane on her long seaward glide.

The A.P., thinking that something had befallen his chum, leant over the curved deck of the cha.s.sis and touched his shoulder.

Barcroft smiled in reply and pointed to the empty petrol-tank--a smile that restored his companion's confidence. Nevertheless the vol plane was a dangerous one. The reduction of the wing-spread, bad enough when the machine was driving furiously through the air, caused the seaplane to slip badly while solely under the attraction of gravity. Should a "slip" occur just before the floats took the water the chance of a fatal capsize were almost a dead certainty.

Realising such a possibility the A.P., who had already unbuckled his waist-strap, kept on the alert, ready at the first sign of a disaster to hack through his companion's belt with a keen knife.

Even then he wondered what was the use? With no help in sight their fruitless struggle for life would only be unnecessarily prolonged.

Then came the opposing thought: while there's life there's hope, and never say die till you're dead.

Again the volplaning craft side-slipped. Barcroft was only just in time to regain control, and making a faultless "landing," brought his command to an aerial rest upon the surface. It could not be termed other than an aerial rest, for the simple reason that the waterborne fabric was rolling and pitching in the short steep seas that are to be met with off the flat Frisian sh.o.r.e.

"For one thing the day is long," thought Billy as he stood upright upon the deck of the swaying cha.s.sis and, supporting himself by one of the struts, looked fixedly in the direction of the pursuing torpedo-boats. They were no longer visible, the difference in alt.i.tude having put them below the horizon, but the ominous clouds of smoke told the flight-sub that the Huns were still persisting in their search. It was just possible, however, that they might pa.s.s some miles to windward and not sight the inconspicuous disabled seaplane in that waste of waters.

Even supposing such to be the case, what fate was in store for the crew of this helpless machine? This part of the North Sea on which they had alighted was a sort of nautical No Man's Land. Fishing vessels gave it a wide berth, fearing the deadly and unseen menace of the mines. Merchantmen no longer followed the once busy maritime highway that led to the erstwhile prosperous port of Hamburg. Save for rare excursions on the part of the German torpedo flotillas and the occasional "sweeps" of Beatty's light cruisers and destroyers nothing afloat was likely to pa.s.s that way. Should the seaplane remain seaborne sufficiently long she might drift ash.o.r.e, but from the direction of the wind it was pretty obvious that she would do so somewhere on the German Frisian group outside the southern portion of 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 never knew when he might have a chance of another. Billy took the proffered cigarette and lit it. The tobacco seemed tasteless. With his lack of speech the flavour of the fragrant weed was denied him.

Nearer and nearer came the smudges of smoke. The Huns were hard on the track of the crippled seaplane. Already Barcroft could distinguish the grey funnels just visible above the sky-line.

"We must destroy our maps and doc.u.ments," he wrote. "When I give the word smash the floats. Don't forget your air-collar."

Fumbling in the locker the observer produced a pneumatic life-saving arrangement, which, when inflated, was capable of supporting its wearer for an indefinite time.

Suddenly in the midst of the task of inflating the collar Kirkwood removed the tube from his lips. The air rushed out, and the rubber fabric collapsed like a punctured pneumatic tyre, while the A.P.