CHAPTER IX
A FIGHT TO A FINISH
FOR the next three days the crew of the battleplane were kept busilyemployed in getting ready for active service against the Huns. Withthe utmost expediency thousands of bullets made to Desmond Blake'sspecification had been turned out in one of the British ammunitionfactories and dispatched across to the aerodrome. Here they weretaken in hand by mechanics attached to the R.F.C. and fitted intoordinary Service rifle cartridges for use with the automatic guns.
Both Athol and Dick had to undergo a brief but efficient machine guncourse, and were instructed in the art of aiming at rapidly-movingtargets from an equally mobile platform. Several branches of theflying officers' art they were not at present to touch. Blake'sbattleplane was to be used for purely offensive purposes, so thatthere was no occasion for the lads to be instructed in registering,observation and reconnaissance work. Nor was there time to studywireless. An apparatus had, however, been installed, and to work it afourth member of the crew was appointed--Sergeant Michael O'Rafferty.
O'Rafferty was an Irishman by birth, name and characteristics. He wasa light-weight of eight stone seven pounds, as agile in body as hewas mercurial in temperament. Already he had two Hun biplanes to hiscredit, and was one of the most reckless flying men of thatparticular squadron.
Amongst other alterations to the battleplane on becoming a Servicemachine a regulation bomb-dropping device had been fitted in thefloor of the fuselage. Eighteen powerful bombs were to be carried,and, when occasion arose, released by the application of the pilot'sfoot upon a pedal, while for offence against bodies of troops boxesof "flêches" or steel arrows were stowed on board.
The arrival from London of their uniforms completed the lads'preparations, and fully equipped they eagerly awaited an opportunityof meeting the Hun airmen.
The chance came sooner than they expected, for late one evening, whenmost of the reconnaissance machines had returned to their hangars,four enemy battleplanes were observed to be approaching. They wereflying high to avoid the anti-aircraft guns in the rear of the thirdline of trenches.
Enemy air-raids had been few of late. The Hun aviators for the mostpart contented themselves by merely patrolling behind their lines onswift Fokkers, swooping down upon the equally daring butunder-powered aeroplanes employed by the British for observationpurposes. On this occasion it was evident that a raid upon theaerodrome was in contemplation.
Instantly there was a rush to man the British aircraft. Three gotaway before Desmond Blake could collect his crew and drag thebattleplane from her shed; but once the huge mechanical bird drewclear of the ground her marked superiority in climbing becameapparent.
Athol stood by the foremost quickfirer; O'Rafferty was at the afterone; Dick had perforce to tend to the motors since the slightesthitch might result in victory to their opponents. Blake, cool andcollected, though it was the first time that he was opposed to ahostile airman's fire, piloted the swift battleplane, manoeuvring togain the equivalent to the old time "weather-gage"--a superioraltitude.
Observing the novel type of aircraft rising to meet them, two of theFokkers circled and prepared to dart down upon their opponent. Eitherthey misjudged the speed and power of the British battleplane or elsethey deprecated the skill of her crew until it was too late.
With her engines all out the battleplane darted across and farbeneath the downward course of the two German aircraft. A sharp burstof machine gun fire from the Huns was futile, for under-estimatingthe speed of their antagonist they made insufficient allowance intheir aim. Harmlessly a sheaf of several hundred bullets whizzedastern of the secret battleplane.
Round swung the Fokkers in pursuit. For the first time they realisedthat in a climbing contest they were hopelessly beaten. In twentyseconds Blake had secured an undisputable gain. He was nearly athousand feet above his opponents, and almost immediately overhead.
In that position the British battleplane was immune from heropponent's fire. The machine guns of the Fokkers were mounted so thatthey could fire ahead between the blades of the swiftly-movingpropellers--less than five per cent. of the bullets being deflectedin their path through the arc of revolution. The guns could also beswung round to fire on either side, but training of the weapons in avertical plane was considerably restricted. It was impossible to fireat any target that was anything like overhead; a contingency that theHuns had not provided for, since their hitherto superior speedenabled them to decide their own conditions of fighting.
"Stand by, Athol!" shouted Blake.
Considering that Athol had been "standing by" during the whole of theflight the order seemed unnecessary until the lad grasped thesignificance of his superior officer's bidding.
Like a kestrel the battleplane dived towards the nearmost of heropponents. The pilot of the Fokker saw the danger. Discharging alarge smoke-bomb he strove to escape under cover of the dense pall ofvapour. For a few seconds it seemed as if the manoeuvre would provesuccessful, until Blake turned his craft and brought her on aparallel course to the escaping Hun.
The Fokker could now use her machine guns, although aiming was amatter of extreme difficulty. A hail of bullets clipping neat littleholes in the tips of the battleplane's wings showed how close theshots were to securing telling hits.
Athol and Sergeant O'Rafferty opened fire simultaneously, since bothmachine guns could be brought to bear upon the German aircraft.Caught by the stinging hail of bullets the Fokker's struts andtension wires seemed to fly into fragments. Her shattered planestilted upwards as she commenced to fall earthwards. Then, burstinginto flames, the Hun machine crashed to the ground two thousand feetbelow.
A peculiar and disconcerting ping close to Athol's head warned himthat the fight was not yet over. The second Fokker, finding that themysterious aeroplane was directing its attention upon Hun No 1, hadmanoeuvred for its favourite position, and owing to the battleplanedescribing a circle the relative distance was now considerablydecreased.
In a trice Blake banked steeply. As he did so O'Rafferty let loose acouple of dozen rounds. The Hun, hit more than once, turned and fled.
Giving a hasty glance round Blake took in the situation. Theremaining Fokkers had been disposed of by the British biplanes, butnot before one of the latter had to make an involuntary landing withits petrol tank perforated like a sieve and its observer badlywounded. There was now a fair chance of matching Blake's battleplaneagainst the vaunted and possibly overrated Fokker.
The latter, with clouds of smoke pouring from her exhaust, was makingoff towards her own lines. Before gaining shelter she would have topass over the British trenches less than thirty miles from theencounter, even if she were successful in throwing off pursuit.
Blake was equally determined to smash his opponent long before thelatter came within sight of the German trenches. It was essentialthat in this early stage the secret battleplane should not showherself to the Huns over their own lines. The systematicdisappearance of the "star" enemy airmen, without any hint of thenature of their destruction, would have a telling effect upon the_morale_ of their flying men. It was a parallel case to the steadyand unannounced decrease in the number of German submarines, scoresof which left port never to return, and leaving no record of theirdisappearance save that known and jealously guarded by the BritishAdmiralty.
"Now see what you can do, Athol," exclaimed Blake, as thebattleplane, gaining upon her antagonist hand over fist, was in afavourable position to open fire.
Glancing along the sights Athol pressed the thumbpiece of thefiring-mechanism. Some of the shots took effect, for the Fokker, inspite of the frantic efforts of the pilot to keep it under control,began to dive.
Athol ceased firing. The hostile aircraft was done for. Humanityurged him to let the Hun crew save themselves if it were possible toavoid being dashed to pieces upon the ground.
Erratically swaying, lurching and side-slipping, with one of thewings twisted like a broken reed, the German aircraft fell through athousand feet of space before the pilot wa
s able to check itsdescent. For ten seconds it seemed on the point of recovering itself,then the headlong flight was resumed.
Well in its wake followed the British battleplane. Blake was resolvedto watch developments. He was curious to know the fate of the Huncrew.
Retarding the battleplane's flight the pilot kept her well undercontrol, circling around the path of his defeated antagonist. Just asthe Fokker was on the point of landing with an appalling crash themachine tilted acutely, then making a tail-dive alighted heavily uponthe ground, throwing both pilot and observer from their seats.
In an instant the redoubtable Hun pilot regained his feet. Althoughfully expectant to be greeted by a discharge from the battleplane'smachine-gun he staggered towards the wreckage and dragged hisunconscious comrade further from the pile of tangled and twistedmetal and canvas. Then striking a match and igniting his celluloidmap he threw the blazing fabric into the petrol-soaked wreckage.
Bringing the battleplane to earth within twenty-five yards towindward of the burning aeroplane Blake descended, followed by Atholand the sergeant.
The Hun, revolver in hand, stood on the defensive, although no escapewas possible, for already soldiers were hurrying up from theirbillets in a neighbouring hamlet. The Hun, not knowing what treatmenthe would be accorded, was evidently under the impression that noquarter would be given.
"Hands up!" ordered Blake.
"You no shoot, me no shoot," replied the German aviator, stillbrandishing his pistol. "Spare my life and surrender I will make."
"We respect a brave foe," exclaimed Blake. "But you are ourprisoner."
The German dropped his revolver and folded his arms. Blake advancedwith outstretched hands to compliment his opponent on his bravery,but as he did so the aviator reeled and fell senseless to the ground.
"They'll both pull through, I should imagine," declared an armydoctor who with others had hurried to the spot. "They look a pair oftough birds. But, by Jove! what type of aircraft have you here?"
"Just an experiment," replied Blake modestly. "We haven't done sobadly for a first attempt. Hop in, Athol, night's coming on apace,and I'd rather tackle half a dozen Huns than risk a landing in thedark."