CHAPTER XI
ONE ZEPPELIN THE LESS
TORPEDO-BOAT No. 445 easily led the procession of small fry. Herspeed, a bare twenty knots, was a good two miles an hour more thanthe rest of the torpedo-boats, while she could give points to theswiftest of the armed trawlers that lumbered in the wake of the restof the flotilla.
Tressidar stood on a little platform abaft the low conning-tower. Hehad plenty to do, for the intricate directions as to the course couldbe adhered to only by a series of careful cross-bearings andobservations. A line of hostile mines had been reported off thecoast, and already a passage had been cleared by the sweepers.Therein lay a great risk, for although the channel had been reportedclear, there was always the possibility of a mine escaping the meansemployed to rid the sea of these sinister objects, while cases havearisen of a derelict mine being found in a spot that had beenreported free only an hour previously.
The officers and crew of No. 445 knew the danger and met it withequanimity. The lightly-built, single-skinned hull of thetorpedo-boat would be literally pulverised should she bump against amine. The concussion would undoubtedly send the frail craft to thebottom like a stone, and those of the crew who survived the explosionwould be unable to withstand the piercing coldness of the water. Withthem, familiarity did not breed contempt; it was merely a matter ofindifference. With unseen perils surrounding them, the iron-nervedmen were as cool as if the little craft were on a trial run duringthe piping times of peace.
Ahead the double flash of Dunletter Head lighthouse winked knowingly.It was one of those beacons whose usefulness, nay indispensability,to friendly crafts more than outweighed the service it might renderto hostile craft. The absence of those well-known flashes, even for acouple of hours, might result in half a dozen wrecks upon thedangerous Dunletter reefs that thrust their jagged and submergedfangs nearly half a mile seaward from the frowning promontory.
"Starboard your helm," ordered the sub.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the quartermaster.
Almost on her heel the torpedo-boat swung round. It had reached thelimit of a discovered mine-field, and was now free to stand seawards.She, like her consorts, showed no lights. Only a ruddy glare from thefunnels of a badly stoked furnace betrayed the presence of one of theflotilla, now a couple of miles on the port quarter. For two tedioushours the boats searched the sea within ten miles of the position inwhich the Zeppelin was reported. Although searchlights were broughtto bear upon the waves, nothing resulted. Apparently the airship hadfoundered.
Suddenly an idea flashed across Tressidar's mind.
"I'll try it," he thought, and gave an order for the engines to bestopped.
When No. 445 lost way he made tests to ascertain the true directionof the wind. Although it was almost calm when he left Auldhaig, thesub. made the discovery that there was a steady draught from thesouth-west. He also knew that for the last four hours the tide hadbeen making northwards.
A water-borne Zeppelin, he argued, was to a greater extent under theinfluence of the wind, and to a lesser extent of that of the tide,although that depended largely upon the area of the submerged portionof the huge fabric. Allowing the airship to have been drifting forfour hours, by this time she must be at least sixteen miles from thespot where she dropped, unless in the meanwhile she had sunk.
Accordingly TB 445 made off in a north-easterly direction, the sub.sweeping the sea with his night-glasses with the air of a man whosubconsciously feels convinced that his efforts will meet withsuccess.
Shortly after two in the morning a slight mist, accompanied by coldrain and sleet, rendered the searchers' task a most difficult one.Speed was reduced to fifteen knots, and the look-outs doubled, sincethe little craft was now in the waters frequented by the north-eastof Scotland fishing-boats.
"Light on the port-bow, sir," reported one of the crew, as the feebleglimmer of a masthead and port lights loomed through the mirk.
Tressidar telegraphed for "easy ahead," then "stop," at the same timeordering the helm to be starboarded in order to approach the strangecraft.
"They're making a deuce of a noise," he soliloquised, as the murmurof a babel of voices was wafted through the night.
Even as he looked the sub. discovered that the beams of the vessel'smasthead light were playing upon an immense indistinct mass lyingapparently a cable's length to windward. The mass was the envelope ofthe Zeppelin.
Ordering both searchlights to be unscreened and played upon theairship, Tressidar had the torpedo-boat manoeuvred so that thetrawler,--for such she proved to be--bore slightly on the starboardquarter. At the same time the three 3-pounders were trained upon theZeppelin.
"I wonder if the Huns have collared that craft," thought Tressidar."It looks jolly fishy."
"Ahoy!" hailed one of the torpedo-boat's men. "What craft is that?"
"Drifter 'Laughing Lassie' of Peterhead," was the reply with anunmistakable Scottish accent.
"Then what are you doing here?" shouted the sub.
"The Zepp.'s right across our nets," announced the master of thedrifter. "We aren't going to cut them adrift for a dozen strafedZepps. They want us to take them aboard, but we just won't."
The fishing-craft was steaming slowly ahead, just sufficient to keepa slight strain upon her nets. The rear gondola of the Zeppelin,dipping beneath the surface, had fouled them, and at the same timethe airship was prevented from drifting further to leeward.
Taking care to avoid the nets, for there was a danger of thetorpedo-boat's propeller becoming entangled in the meshes of tarredline, Tressidar brought his command slightly to windward of thecrippled German airship.
With the exception of the after part she was floating buoyantly,stern to wind. On the platform on the upper side of the envelope wereabout a dozen of her officers and crew. Others were standing on thelight, railed-in gangway connecting the foremost cabin with themidship gondola. Shown up by the glare of the searchlights wereseveral jagged holes in the envelope, caused by fragments of shellsfrom the guns of the anti-aircraft service cars.
"WITH THE QUICK-FIRERS TRAINED UPON THE BULKY TARGET,NO. 445 APPROACHED WITHIN HAILING DISTANCE"]
"Think she'll fight, Bill?" the sub. heard a seaman enquire of hischum.
"Wish to heaven she would," replied the man. "We'd make it hot forthem. But they won't, the brutes. They never do when they'recornered."
The speaker was in ordinary circumstances a steady, well-conductedseaman-gunner, who bore testimony to his humanity in the form of asilver medal from the Royal Humane Society for saving life under mosthazardous conditions. Yet, without the slightest compunction, hewould have sent a shell crashing into the inflammable gases of theZepp.'s envelope. The mental vision of that ruined cottage with theslaughtered woman and her children had hardened his heart.
It was with almost similar sentiments that Tressidar hoped theGermans would put up a fight. With their superior armament they stooda chance of sending the little torpedo-boat to the bottom, or at anyrate sweeping her decks with a murderous fire from her numerousmachine guns.
She did neither. Instead, a man exhibited a large white flag, whilethe rest of the crew stood with folded arms, displaying a completeconfidence in the willingness of the British seamen to save them froma lingering death in the wild North Sea.
With the quick-firers still trained upon the bulky target, No. 445approached within hailing distance.
"Do you surrender?" shouted the sub. through a megaphone.
"Yes," was the reply, given by a tall, burly officer speaking goodEnglish. "We are disabled. We give ourselves up as prisoners."
"Very good," rejoined Tressidar. "You're in no immediate danger.Stand by to receive a hawser. We're going to tow you. But remember,any attempt to destroy or cause further injury to the airship willresult in the death of every man jack of you. Do you quiteunderstand?"
The German officers conferred amongst themselves. Then one of themgave an order to a member of the crew, who hurried to a hatchwayamidships and disappeared from view.<
br />
"He's either gone to blow up the gas-bag or else he's been told tocountermand a previous order to scuttle her," thought the sub. "Well,the business rests entirely in their hands. They'll have to realisethat I won't be fooled with."
"We are ready to be taken in tow," shouted the German officer.
Ordering easy ahead, Tressidar brought his command almost alongsidethe steam drifter.
"You'll have to cut your nets, skipper," he said, addressing a short,thick-set man whose proportions were grotesquely exaggerated by astiff oilskin worn over a thick great-coat. "I want you to take thatZepp. in tow and run her into Auldhaig. You will be compensated forthe loss of your nets and in addition receive a large sum forsalvage."
With the utmost alacrity the master of the drifter gave the necessaryorders. The half-mile of nets was cut adrift, and the powerfulengines manoeuvred until it was possible to heave a coil of rope intothe foremost gondola of the crippled airship.
Meanwhile Tressidar had sent out a flashing message--No. 445 notbeing equipped with wireless--in the hope of the good news beingpicked up by the rest of the flotilla. Although there was noresponse, the sub. gave the signalmen instructions to flash codemessages at intervals, in order to impress upon the crew of theZeppelin that the torpedo-boat was not unsupported.
Slowly the trawler forged ahead, the partly water-logged airshipwallowing awkwardly in tow. To guard against treachery--which,Tressidar knew, would be regarded as a smart action on the part ofthe Huns--No. 445 kept on the starboard quarter of the Zeppelin,ready at the first sign of a suspicious nature to place a shell intothe interior of the highly inflammable envelope.
Mile after mile the trawler towed her bulky charge, her coursethrough the mine-infested water being directed by signals from thetorpedo-boat, whose searchlights were continually playing upon theprize.
Greatly to Tressidar's satisfaction, he observed that the airshipshowed no signs of sinking still more. Apparently the air-tightsubdivisions enclosing the ballonets were sufficiently strong toresist the pressure of water. The submerged portion, too, acting as adrag in the sea, prevented the Zeppelin from yawing excessively,especially as the wind was now broad on the port beam.
The chances were that at last a practically undamaged and repairableZeppelin would be brought into a British port.
A red hue in the eastern sky betokened the dawn of another day withthe promise of bad weather. Gradually the beams of the searchlightsbegan to pale before the increasing morning light.
Several miles to windward columns of smoke denoted the presence ofthe rest of the patrolling craft, which, having abandoned theirmidnight search, were returning to port.
It was now time for the trawler to alter her course eight points tostarboard. She had passed the dangerous area, and could now runparallel with the coast until she reached the entrance to AuldhaigFirth.
Of the Zeppelin's crew not a man was visible. Apparently acceptingthe inevitable, they had taken shelter from the keen air and drivingrain until they were ordered ashore by their captors, there to enjoythe comparatively luxurious life of prisoners of war.
Suddenly the whole fabric of the airship burst into sheets of luridflame. Shafts of dazzling light shot skywards, mingled with flyingdebris. Almost immediately came the deafening crash of an explosion,followed by a blast of hot air that swept the torpedo-boat like atornado.
For a few moments Tressidar was unable to grasp the situation. Wherethe Zeppelin had been was a dense cloud of smoke, that, caught by thewind, was drifted down upon the sub.'s command until the men wereliterally gasping for breath. Then upon her decks fell fragments ofaluminium girders and wisps of burning fabric that, hurled upwards toan immense height, was beginning to fall in all directions.
The trawler, released from her tow, was forging rapidly ahead, thehawser trailing astern with a succession of jerks. Not until laterwas it ascertained that several of her crew had been hurled to thedeck and seriously injured by the blast of the explosion, while theothers were so dazed by the concussion that it was some time beforethe helm could be steadied and orders given to slow down.
"Rough luck!" muttered Tressidar. "Still, those fellows in that Zepp.had some pluck to blow her up with all on board."
But the sub. was wrong in his surmise. Nemesis, in the shape of adrifting German mine, had overtaken the air-raider of the night. Inturning, the trawler had fortunately missed the latent weapon by abare yard, while the airship, having to describe a wide circle, hadbrought the submerged gondola in contact with the sensitive horns ofthe mine with disastrous results.
"After all, there's some consolation," thought Tressidar as he wentbelow to write out his report. "There's one Zeppelin the less."