CHAPTER XXXVI
THE ELUSIVE OBJECTIVE
"By Jove! old man," exclaimed Kirkwood, "we're up against a bigthing to-morrow."
Billy Barcroft merely nodded. It was "a big thing," this impendingmovement. Something that was well worth the risk, but at the sametime the chances of the participators in the business returning werevery remote.
The two chums were pacing the port side of the quarter-deck of the"Hippodrome"--a long and comparatively narrow space betwixt the riseof the deck-houses and the stern, and separated from thecorresponding part on the starboard side by the inclined launchingplatform.
The seaplane-carrier was lying in a certain East Coast harbour, withsteam raised ready to proceed at a moment's notice, and although herdestination was supposed to be a strict secret, the nature of theforthcoming operations was known to all on board.
It was nothing less than a raid on Cuxhaven, where a considerableportion of the German High Seas Fleet was known to be "resting"after a speculative but cautious cruise off the west coast ofJutland, the object being twofold--to exercise the crews and toimpress upon the incredulous Danes the fact that the fleet of theBlack Cross Ensign were willing and anxious to meet the Britishnavy.
With their U-boats well out to sea, their ocean-going torpedo-boatsforming a far-flung screen, and Zeppelins hovering overhead, the Hun"capital ships" had steamed in and out, keeping within theirprotective mine-fields: Having accomplished this imposing evolutionthe battleships of the fleet returned, part going to Cuxhaven, therest to Wilhelmshaven, while the bulk of the torpedo flotillasanchored off the east side of Heligoland.
Once more the German Press had burst forth into a panegyric on theinvincible and undaunted prowess of the fleet of the Fatherland,taking good care to impress upon the people that, although everyopportunity had been offered to the British to engage in battle, thechallenge had been declined.
The projected raid upon Cuxhaven was a reply to the Huns' emptyboast. The seaplane carriers "Hippodrome," "Arena," "Cursus" and"Stadium," escorted by light cruisers and destroyers, were toproceed to a rendezvous twenty miles west of Heligoland. Sixty milesaway the British battle cruisers were to "standby," ready, at awireless call for assistance, to tear off at full speed to thesuccour of the small craft should the latter, regarded as an easyprey, be attacked by the big-gun ships of the German navy.
At the first blush of dawn twenty seaplanes were to start from theirparent ships on their perilous flight over the Heligoland Bight anddrop their powerful bombs upon the naval port of Cuxhaven--a featthat, knowing the formidable anti-aircraft defences, promised to bea forlorn hope; yet there was the keenest competition amongst theairmen of the fleet to participate in the "grand stunt."
The A.P. had carried out his promise to Barcroft. He had sold Billythe deeds of Mrs. Deringhame's house at Alderdene, and theflight-sub had sent them anonymously to Betty's mother.
It was a tremendous financial sacrifice on Billy's part. It hadpractically wiped up the bulk of his capital, but Barcroft cared notone jot for that. What troubled him was the fact that he could notask Betty to marry him on his meagre pay. He had very little doubtbut that the girl would do so, for during his last leave he had beenmuch in her company.
"It wouldn't be fair to Betty," he soliloquised. "I must rake insome more cash, but goodness only knows how long it will take. Onething, we are both young, or I'm hanged if I would have the nerve toask her to wait! Well, if this raid comes off successfully it willmean promotion. That's one blessing. If it doesn't--well, BillyBarcroft won't be in a position to worry about anything, I guess."
The flight-sub had completed his preparations. Two letters, one tohis parents and one to Betty Deringhame, had been written, sealedand handed to the fleet-paymaster to be forwarded in the event ofthe writer's death. This unpleasant but necessary businessperformed, Barcroft dismissed the matter from his mind andconcentrated his thoughts and energies on the work in hand.
"All correct, Jones?" he asked, addressing the air-mechanic who wasputting the finishing touches to the seaplane that was to carryBarcroft and Kirkwood on their adventurous flight.
"All correct, sir," was the reply. "I've advanced the spark atrifle, sir she ought to simply buzz; but perhaps you'll see thateverything's to your satisfaction."
Carefully Billy tested his controls, examined unions, contactbreaker, and automatic lubricators. Success depended upon motorefficiency almost as much as upon the skill and courage of thepilot. The slightest hitch might spell disaster.
"There's the permission to part company," announced Kirkwood as asignal, made in response to a display of bunting from the yard-armsof the respective seaplane-carriers, was hoisted from the navalsignal station. "Wonder if I'll see Old England again," he added inan undertone.
Already the cruisers were steaming out of harbour; not in the pompof pre-war days with guards drawn up on the quarter-deck and bandsplaying as each vessel passed the flagship. Silent and grim, hugeemblems of seapower, they glided past the harbour batteries and,increasing speed to twenty-two knots, were soon out of sight.
With destroyers preceding and following, the four seaplane-carrierswere next to leave. On gaining the open sea they formed lineabreast, surrounded by their vigilant escort; the light cruisers,reducing speed to that of the convoy, taking up station two milesastern.
In this formation the flotilla reeled off knot after knot withoutincident, until late in the evening, when two of the destroyers onthe "Hippodrome's" starboard beam began a rapid fire that lastednearly five minutes, breaking station and circling in a fashion thatrecalled the preliminary manoeuvres of a pair of cautious boxers.
"U-boat, somewhere over there," commented Fuller, who with Barcroftand the A.P. was on deck in preference to the somewhat boisterousward-room. "I don't think they've got her. Wonder if she's dived andavoided the cordon. If so we'll have to look out."
"Hope she won't bag us at this stage of the proceedings," saidKirkwood. "At any rate, our quick-fires are manned, and it will bedark in another half-hour."
The two destroyers had resumed station, having signalled to theeffect that no definite result was observed but it was believed thatthe U-boat's periscopes had been smashed by gun-fire.
"The trouble will come later, I think," said Barcroft when themessage was communicated to the "Hippodrome's" officers. "If sheisn't winged she'll rise to the surface after we're out of sight andwireless the news to the Heligoland signal station. The mere mentionof seaplane carriers will put the Huns on the _qui vive_. However,that can't be helped; I'm turning in, you fellows, and I advise youto do the same."
Well before dawn the airmen detailed for the raid were roused fromtheir sleep, or rather their efforts to slumber, since few weresufficiently proof against the excitement of the forthcomingexpedition to enjoy a good night's rest.
Breakfast over, the members of the forlorn hope donned their leathercoats and flying helmets, and assembled aft for final instructionsfrom the wing commander.
"There is to be no easing down to keep pace with the slowestmachine," were his instructions. "Each man is to go for hisobjective at top speed. You have noted the positions of the variousbatteries, I trust? It would be well to leave the Glienicke Redoubtwell on your left. It's the only one, I believe, that mounts thelatest Krupp's antis. On no account must the bombing seaplaneattempt to encounter hostile aircraft on the outward flight: leavethat task to the escorting planes. If, however, you fall in with anyZeppelins, attack immediately. One more point: should the situationnecessitate the withdrawal of the seaplane-carriers and theirescorts you know your instructions? Good. Well, gentlemen, that isall I have to say, beyond wishing you the best of luck and a safereturn."
Barcroft's machine was the last to leave the "Hippodrome's"launching platform, and the last but one of the raiding craft. Itwas still dark. The misty outlines of the nearmost biplanes could bejust discerned as they rose swiftly and steadily above the invisibledestroyers. The crews of the latter gave the airmen three rousingcheers as th
ey swept overhead, but the tribute was wasted. Thefarewell greetings were drowned by the roar of the engines.
As dawn began to break Billy made a rather disconcerting discovery.His seaplane was now the last of the procession. It had been overhauled by the one from the "Cursus," and what was more she wasslowly yet surely dropping astern.
It did not appear to be the fault of the engine. The timing andfiring seemed perfect. The motor was running like a clock, yet therest of the raiding aircraft, most of which he knew were usuallyslightly inferior in speed, were distinctly gaining.
With the growing dawn the four escorting battle seaplanes could bedistinguished, two on either side of the long-drawn line of bombdropping air-craft. It was the duty of the former to engage anyhostile aeroplane that attempted to bar the progress of the latter.Armoured and carrying two light quick-firers they were more than amatch for the German airmen, and the latter were fully aware of thefact.
"Hang it all!" muttered the flight-sub as he actuated the rudder-barand tilted the ailerons in order to check a cross-drift and toincrease the altitude. "It's getting jolly misty. Hope it doesn'tmean fog."
The rearmost of the rest of the air-squadron was now almostinvisible, the others entirely so. As a matter of precautionBarcroft took a hurried compass bearing, fervently hoping that themist would clear by the time he reached his desired objective.
"We're odd man out, old bird!" he shouted through the voice-tube."Keep your eyes skinned. I don't want to get out of touch withMcKenzie if it can be avoided."
"It can't," replied his observer. "He's just been swallowed up bythe mist."
"I'll climb higher still," decided Billy. "There must be a limit tothis rotten patch of vapour."
For another ten minutes Barcroft held on his course. He could not befar from land, he decided. Already the leading raiders must haveachieved their object, if it were possible to see their target, andwere on their return journey. The chances of a collision in mid-airwith one of the British seaplanes suggested itself. The idea was notan inviting one--the impact of two frail and swiftly moving objectsat an aggregate rate of nearly two hundred miles an hour, and thesickening crash to earth. There would be some satisfaction inknowing that an enemy aircraft was destroyed in this fashion, butthe possibility--remote, no doubt--of sending one's fellow airmenand oneself to instant destruction was a proposition for which themisty air was responsible.
"I'm going to shut off the juice," announced Billy to his observer."Keep your ears open, my festive."
With the switching off of the ignition the seaplane commenced a longglide. The almost total silence, save for the swish of the airagainst the planes and struts, was broken by a succession of loudrumbles. Some of the British raiders were at work.
"In which direction?" shouted Barcroft.
"Ahead on your left, I think," replied Kirkwood.
"Seems to me that the smash came from the right," declared thepilot. "Can you see any flashes?"
"Not a sign," replied the observer. "The sounds seem as if they arecoming from the right now abaft the beam, if anything."
"It's a proper mix up," thought Barcroft. "Fog plays the very deucewith sound. If the other fellows are able to drop their bombs itproves that the mist is confined to the upper air. Dash it all! Arewe never going to get clear of this muck?"
He jerked his goggles upwards until they rested on his cap. For allpractical purposes they were useless, although guaranteed to beimmune from the effect of moisture. The front of his coat wasglistening with particles of ice. Everything he touched was slipperywith rime. Jets of vapour, caused by the cold moisture coming incontact with the warm cylinders, drifted into his face and buffetedhis bloodshot eyes.
"It's almost as bad as the night when Fuller and I strafed thatZep.," thought Kirkwood, who, although in a more sheltered positionthan his companion, came in for a generous share of the atmosphericdiscomforts.
A sudden jerk, so severe that it was a wonder the huge wing-spreaddid not collapse under the rapid change of pressure as Barcrofttilted the ailerons, told the observer that something had beensighted. Almost simultaneously the motor was restarted and theseaplane rising and banking steeply almost grazed the topmasts of anumber of ships.
Kirkwood grasped the lever of the bomb-dropping gear and hung ontill the order to let rip. But Barcroft gave no indication for thework of destruction.
"Sailing craft," he said to himself. "I could see their topsailyards. They are not what we want. Evidently we are over thecommercial part of the harbour, if this is Cuxhaven. I'll buzz roundand see if we have any luck."
Round and round in erratic curves, ascending and descending, theseaplane sped, yet without sighting any more shipping. Twice shecame within sight of the ground, descending to within fifty feet inorder to do so, but only an expanse of tilled fields rewarded thepilot's efforts. Then, climbing to a safe altitude he againvolplaned in the hope of being guided by the sound of thebombardment. Again his endeavours met with no success. All wasquiet, beyond the discordant clanging of a distant bell. The raidershad come and gone. Whether the fog had cut short their operations,or whether the air had been sufficiently clear to enable them tolocate their objective, he knew not. The fact remained that Billyand the A.P. were lost in the fog and unable to carry out theirallotted part of the strafing affair. They might be ten, twenty, oreven thirty miles over German territory, so vague had been theircourse. Unless they speedily made tracks for the rendezvous theystood a good chance of running short of petrol should the fog extendsufficiently seaward to prevent them sighting the waiting seaplanecarriers.
"What's the move, old man?" shouted the A. P,
"Off back," was the reply. "Nothin' doin' this trip."
"Hard lines," rejoined Kirkwood. "It's getting worse, if anything."
Which was a fact, for the frozen particles of moisture wereincreasing in size, and, driven into the airmen's faces by the rushof the seaplane through the air, were lacerating their skin untiltheir features were hidden by congealed blood. Goggles being worsethan useless, the two officers were compelled to close their eyelidsto within a fraction of an inch and suffer acute torments from thebiting air.
Very cautiously Barcroft planed down until the altitude gaugeindicated a hundred feet, Seeing and hearing nothing he descendedstill further, restarting the engine as a matter of precaution.
Presently a rift in the wall of vapour enabled both pilot andobserver to discern a flat, greyish expanse of sand through whichseveral small channels wound sinuously.
"Good!" muttered Billy. "Now we know, more or less. We're over thesandbanks off the mouth of the Elbe unless it's the Weser. Anyway,nor' west is the course until we get away from this fog."
Ten minutes later the bank of vapour showed signs of diminishing indensity; then, with a suddenness that left the two airmen blinkingin the watery sunshine, the seaplane dashed into the clear daylight.
The sight that met their eyes was particularly cheerful. Ahead, at adistance of about four miles, lay the island fortress of Heligoland.But for one reason Barcroft would have made unhesitatingly for thisstrongly fortified rock of sandstone, drop his cargo of explosivesand trust to luck to get clear. There was a more temptinginducement, for almost directly underneath the British seaplane wasa large German warship.