CHAPTER XVI--THE OBSERVATION BASKET
While the "Golden Hind" was struggling towards the shores of WesternAustralia, Count Karl von Sinzig in Z64 was flying almost due south fromSamarang, in the island of Java.
He, too, had had a taste of the cyclone, which had extended over thewhole of the Arabian Sea and had been severely felt as far north as thePersian-Turkestan frontier.
Practically helpless in the grip of the furious blast, Z64 had beendriven far off her course. Passing high over the mountainous districtsof Thibet, the German airship, unseen and unheard, finally encountered astiff northerly wind when approaching the China Sea in the neighbourhoodof Hanoi. Already the start von Sinzig had obtained over his Britishrival was wiped out. The long detour he had been obliged to takerepresented twelve hours' flight under normal conditions, and since heknew of Fosterdyke's progress by the expedient of picking up the "GoldenHind's" wireless message, he realised that the latter had made good herbelated departure.
At Samarang, Z64 took in fresh hydrogen and petrol. Von Sinzig reportedhis arrival to the representatives of the International Air Board, andstated his intention of proceeding via New Guinea, New Caledonia, andNorfolk Island to New Zealand, where he would be able to fulfil one ofthe conditions that required the competitors to touch at a spot withinone degree of the nadir to their starting-point.
But von Sinzig had no intention of carrying out his declared programme.Directly he was well clear of Samarang, he shaped a course due south inorder to pick up the prevailing westerly wind south of Australia onwhich Fosterdyke counted also. A stiff northerly wind over the SundaSea helped the German to attain his object, and on the evening that the"Golden Hind" drifted to south of Fremantle, Z64 was skirting the coastof West Australia, in the neighbourhood of Geographe Bay.
Von Sinzig was in a bad state of mind. He knew by means of a codemessage from Barcelona that one of his agents had made an attempt todelay the "Golden Hind's" departure. What had actually taken place heknew not. All he did know was the galling fact that the attempt hadbeen unsuccessful, and that by this time his rival was practically levelwith him.
"Hans," he exclaimed, calling one of his subordinates, formerly anUnter-Leutnant in the German Flying Service and before that a MercantileMarine officer.
Hans Leutter clicked his heels and stood to attention.
"You know Fremantle?" enquired the count, brusquely.
"Fairly well, mein Herr," was the reply. "I've called there perhaps adozen times in cargo boats. The last time was in January, 1914."
"There was, of course, no aerodrome there then?"
"Assuredly no, sir."
"According to my information it is on the right bank of the Swan Riverand a couple of kilometres to the east of the town. It ought to beeasily found."
Hans Leutter agreed that to locate it ought to be a simple matter.
"Then we'll do so, little Hans," exclaimed the count, grimly. "We mighteven make the Englishman Fosterdyke a little present anonymously, ofcourse."
The ex-Unter-Leutnant grinned.
"You wish me to take the Albatross for an airing then?" he said.
"Ach, no," replied von Sinzig. "If our Albatross were invisible andnoiseless, it would be different. We'll use the observation basket.Overhaul the mechanism carefully, because you, little Hans, are going touse it."
Hans Leutter saluted and went for'ard. He was not at all keen on beingtold off for observation work, but his innate sense of discipline madehim accept the duty without outward signs of resentment. Somehow hedidn't relish the idea of being lowered from the Zeppelin and allowed todangle at the end of two or three thousand feet of fine wire.
Shortly before midnight the look-out on Z64 picked up the harbour andtown lights of Fremantle. It was now a fairly calm night. At fivethousand feet was a stratum of light clouds, sufficient to obscure thestarlight. The climatic conditions for von Sinzig's plans were exactlywhat he wanted.
When the German airship was dead to windward of the town her motors wereswitched off and she was allowed to drift in and out of the lower edgeof the bank of clouds.
From her foremost nacelle a circular basket, fitted with a vertical vaneto prevent it from turning round and round like a gigantic meat-jack,was hanging. In the basket, with a couple of small incendiary bombs forcompany, was Hans Leutter. In order to keep in touch with the captainof Z64 Hans was provided with a wireless telephone.
"All ready," announced the observer. "Lower away."
The well-oiled mechanism ran smoothly and noiselessly until a suddencheck in the downward journey told Hans that the observation basket hadreached the limit of its cable. From where he dangled--nearlytwo-thirds of a mile below the airship--Z64 was quite invisible. It wastherefore safe to assume that the good people of Fremantle were likewisenot in a position to see the huge gas-bag five thousand feet overhead,while the insignificant observation basket, although only a thousandfeet or so up, was too minute to be spotted against the blurredstarlight.
On the other hand, Hans Leutter could command a fairly comprehensiveview of the town beneath him. The tranquil waters of the Swan Riverenabled him to fix his position, for even on the darkest night a rivercan readily be seen by an aerial observer. The navigation lamps of theaerodrome almost misled him. At first he mistook them for the railwaystation; but when he discovered his mistake he asked himself why theaerial signalling lamps were still being exhibited. According to thelatest wireless messages picked up by Z64, the "Golden Hind" ought bythis time to be berthed in the hangar. But, perhaps, he argued, theofficials in their demonstrations of welcome had forgotten to switch thelights off.
"This reminds me of London in 1916," thought Hans. "London in thosegood old days when our Zeppelins came and went almost without let orhindrance. Now, my beauty, you and I must part."
He raised the bomb and poised it on the edge of the basket. In hisexcitement he had completely forgotten his fears at being suspended by asteel rope almost the same gauge as a piano-wire.
The incendiary bomb was quite a small affair, but none the lessefficacious. In order to guard against identification should any of themetal parts be found, the vanes were stamped with the British Governmentmarks, which showed that von Sinzig, with characteristic Teutonicthoroughness, had taken the precaution of covering his tracks. TheBritish Air Ministry and the Australian Commonwealth Government couldappraise responsibility later--by that time Z64 would be thousands ofmiles away.
Allowing for the slight breeze, Hans Leutter telephoned for the Zeppelinto steer ten degrees to the nor'ard. Slowly Z64 carried out theinstructions, and seesawing gently the observation basket moved in aslightly different direction from its previous line of drift until thecrucial moment arrived.
Hans Leutter released the bomb. For three seconds the observer couldfollow its downward passage; then it vanished into the darkness. Fiveseconds later the missile hit its objective.
There was no need for a second bomb. The airship shed was blazingfiercely.
The Hun in the basket spoke into the telephone.
"Direct hit," he reported. "Haul me up."
Z64 had once more stopped her motors and was rising rapidly above thebank of clouds. At the same time a motor winch was winding in thecable, and Hans Leutter's rate of progress as the basket whirred throughthe air brought back all his fears concerning his hazardous position.What if there were a flaw in the wire? It was ex-Government stuff, herecalled--material that might have been left lying in a neglectedcondition for months before von Sinzig acquired it for its presentpurpose. And supposing the wire slipped off the drum and got nipped inthe cogs of the winch? A score of thoughts of a similar nature flashedacross the observer's mind. He broke into a gentle perspiration. Hetrembled violently as a mental vision of himself hurtling through spacegripped him in all its hideousness.
But the wire held. Hans Leutter was assisted into the nacelle, where hepromptly fainted. By that time Z64 was several miles away fromFremantle, but a dull red
glare on the horizon unmistakably indicatedthe extent of the conflagration.
Throughout the night Z64 flew at an altitude of not less than fifteenthousand feet. Dawn found her far to the south'ard of the GreatAustralian Bight.
Von Sinzig had good cause for keeping out of the beaten steamer tracks;nor did he intend to pass within a hundred miles of the southern part ofTasmania. He counted upon arriving at Napier, New Zealand, at daybreakon the day following, and until then he meant to be most careful not tobe reported by any vessel.
The commander of Z64 had just sat down to breakfast when one of the crewentered his cabin.
"Pardon, Herr Offizier," said the man, apologetically, "but theobservation basket is missing."
"What do you mean?" demanded von Sinzig.
"We secured it after Herr Leutter had finished with it, Herr Kapitan,"explained the man. "I myself saw that the four bottle-screws wereturned up tightly. Kaspar Graus, who had been told to remove theremaining petrol bomb, came and reported that the basket was no longerthere. The metal clips were still attached to the bottle-screws. Itwould appear that these were torn from the basket itself."
Count Karl von Sinzig left his breakfast untasted and hurried along thecatwalk to the gondola from which the observation basket was hung. Hisinformant's news was only too true. Unaccountably the basket had beenwrenched from its securing apparatus.
"It is of little consequence," he declared. "We would not have requiredit again, and, since it will not float, it is at the bottom of the seaby this time. Perhaps it is as well, in case we are inspected byinquisitive officials at our next alighting place."
It was an unlucky day for Z64. About noon two of her motors developedtrouble simultaneously. Three hours elapsed before the sweatingmechanics were able to get the recalcitrant engines in running orderagain, and during that period the Zeppelin had perforce to slow downconsiderably. Consequently, it was half an hour after sunrise when Z64sighted the Three Kings Island to the north-west of Cape Maria vanDiemen. Here she altered course, so as ostensibly to appear as if shehad been flying straight from New Caledonia, and, skirting the westcoast of New Zealand, headed for Napier, where, by the consent of theNew Zealand Government, von Sinzig was permitted to land and thus carryout one of the conditions of the contest.
"We'll fly inland when we sight Auckland," decided the count. "No,don't take her up any higher. There is now no need for concealment.Let these New Zealanders see and comment upon the fact that theirislands are not beyond reach of a good German airship."
And so, flaunting her prowess in the rapidly-growing daylight, Z64approached the town of Auckland. The Zeppelin was within ten miles ofthe place when one of the crew shouted the disconcerting informationthat there was an airship on the starboard bow, travelling east bynorth.
Rapping out a furious oath, von Sinzig snatched up a pair of binoculars.He had never before set eyes on the "Golden Hind," although the Britishairship had passed almost immediately above him within a few minutes ofZ64 leaving her Spanish base, but instinctively he realised that thiswas his greatest rival, Sir Reginald Fosterdyke's creation.
"Gott in Himmel!" shouted von Sinzig. "Leutter, you numbskull, you madea hideous mess of things last night! Look--the 'Golden Hind'!"