Produced by R.G.P.M. van Giesen
cover art]
THE DREADNOUGHT OF THE AIR
GLORIES OF SEAAND AIR SERIES
ByPERCY F.WESTERMAN
THE MYSTERY SHIPTHE RIVAL SUBMARINESBILLY BARCROFT OF THE R.N.A.S.A WATCH-DOG OF THE NORTH SEAA SUB OF THE R.N.R.THE DREADNOUGHT OF THE AIR
PublishersPARTRIDGELONDON
"She was describing a succession of 'loops,' while hermotors were still running." Frontispiece]
THE DREADNOUGHTOF THE AIR
BYPERCY F. WESTERMANAUTHOR OF "THE RIVAL SUBMARINES"ETC., ETC., ETC
PublishersPARTRIDGELONDON
MADE IN GREAT BRITAIN
CONTENTS.
CHAP. I. CONCERNING SUB-LIEUTENANT DACRES II. THE FRENCH INSTRUCTOR III. REMOVED FROM THE NAVY LIST IV. THE MYSTERIOUS AIRSHIP V. A MOMENTOUS TRAIN JOURNEY VI. CHALLENGED VII. THE RETURN OF THE AIRSHIP VIII. WHITTINGHAME'S NARRATIVE IX. THE FLIGHT TO LONDON X. THE STOLEN PLANS XI. THE "METEOR" XII. THE "METEOR'S" DEBUT XIII. AN OFFICIAL AND AN UNOFFICIAL INSPECTION XIV. ACROSS GREENLAND XV. THE NORTH POLE XVI. IN THE NICK OF TIME XVII. ZAYPURU'S BOLD STROKE XVIII. THE DISASTER TO THE "LIBERTAD" XIX. INVESTIGATING THE WRECK XX. A HAZARDOUS PROPOSAL XXI. WITHIN THE CAVARALE PRISON XXII. DACRES REMINDS THE ADMIRAL XXIII. LOCOMOTIVE VERSUS AEROPLANE XXIV. A BRUSH WITH THE INDIANS XXV. THE CAPTURE OF THE CAVARALE XXVI. UNABLE TO RISE XXVII. PREPARING FOR THE PRESIDENT'S VISIT XXVIII. A PRISONER OF WAR XXIX. WORK FOR THE SEAPLANES XXX. THE FALL OF NAOCUANHA XXXI. A SURPRISE FOR DACRES XXXII. A SUBMARINE ENCOUNTER XXXIII. NEWS OF DURANGO XXXIV. THE CHASE XXXV. THE THUNDERSTORM XXXVI. THE ABANDONED FLYING-BOAT XXXVII. THE GALAPAGOS FISHERMEN XXXVIII. CORNERED XXXIX. DACRES' PROMOTION
THE DREADNOUGHTOF THE AIR.
CHAPTER I.
CONCERNING SUB-LIEUTENANT DACRES.
IT was Thursday afternoon--Make and Mend Clothes Day as it is knownin the Royal Navy. H.M.S. "Royal Oak," a Super-Dreadnought nowrelegated to the second class, lay at moorings off Singapore. Twocables' length ahead of her swung her sister ship the "Repulse,"flying the flag of Admiral Maynebrace commanding the SpecialSquadron, now on a cruise round the world in order to display theWhite Ensign in foreign waters as a gentle reminder to pettypotentates that the British Lion's tail could not be twisted withimpunity.
The heat was terrific. The sun's scorching rays beat down withrelentless violence upon the white awnings that shrouded the warshipsfrom bow to stern. The glare, reflected from the oily sea, seemed topenetrate everywhere on board in spite of electric fans and thelatest type of ventilators. Officers and men, used though they wereto the heat of the Tropics, were reduced to a state of perspiringlistlessness. Alacrity seemed for the time being no longer thecharacteristic of the British seamen. One and all they barely existedin Nature's stew-pan and waited for the sun to set.
To add to the discomfort the crew of the "Royal Oak" were ranklingunder a grievance. Hitherto first in the list for prize-firing, theyhad been ousted from their proud position by the flagship: and theflagship didn't forget to crow over her success. Had the contest beencarried out under equal conditions and the "Royal Oak" had "goneunder" the disappointment would not have been so great; but the"Repulse" had gained the position of "top-dog" more by a fluke thananything else.
"Makes one feel jolly rotten," remarked Eccles, the "Royal Oak's"gunnery jack. "The Service papers at home will publish the resultsand add a lot about the superb efficiency of the flagship and thelamentable falling-off of the 'Royal Oak's' gun-layers. All that sortof twaddle, you know: penny-a-line stuff from a fellow who does notknow a fifteen-inch from a seven-pounder."
"You'll bet your bottom dollar, Eccles, there won't be a word saidabout the flagship making her record with the Beaufort Scale loggedas O (a flat calm), while our packet was shoving her nose into itwith the fo'c'sle awash and everything battened down. Ugh! It makesme wild," rejoined Commander Bourne. "Healthy rivalry is all verywell, but----"
"I don't know whether you heard the yarn," said Eccles, "butindirectly an outstanding row between the Admiral and the skipper hassomething to do with it: a little misunderstanding they had when theywere at Osborne, I believe. And the fact that Maynebrace is now anadmiral and Staggers only a captain doesn't improve matters. Theowner forgets sometimes that the Admiral's grandfather was an earland his only a post-captain."
"I did hear something of the sort," replied Bourne. "It's a pity thatpersonal matters are taken into consideration in the Service. Anyway,Captain Staggers would be glad of a chance to pull the Admiral'sleg."
"Hear that?" asked little Dick Alderney, the midshipman of the watch.
"Rather," agreed Sub-lieutenant Basil Dacres emphatically. "It almostgives one a cue."
Basil Dacres was a tall, alert-looking young officer of nineteen. Hisfeatures were clean cut, his complexion tanned to a deep brown byreason of exposure to the sun and the salt breezes of three of thefive oceans. His athletic frame betokened a zest for sport, for inspite of the heat he paced the deck with an elasticity of tread thatdenoted exceptional physical energy. It did not take long for anobserver to come to the right conclusion that Basil Dacres' solemnityof manner when on duty was an acquired one. Those dancing clear blueeyes betrayed the inborn love of a high-spirited nature. Even therigid rules and regulations of the Service could not break hisfondness of practical Joking.
Yet, somehow, he contrived to wriggle out of the dire consequenceswithout dishonour, and upon calming down he would enter into thepreparatory stages of perpetrating another joke. Upon the eve of hisdeparture from home on the present commission this trait asserteditself. Dacres' little pranks were invariably intended to be of aharmless nature, but sometimes the result surpassed his expectations.
Dacres' father was a retired colonel who, possessed of ample privatemeans, kept a large establishment in the West End. The colonel wasabsolutely military to the backbone, a martinet even in home life,although "his bark was worse than his bite." One thing is certain,Basil Dacres never inherited the lighter vein from his father, forthe latter was never known to have spoken a funny sentence except bya sheer accident; and then, when the rest of the mess laughed, he wascompletely puzzled to know why.
It happened that the Thursday on which the sub was to leave to joinhis ship was his mother's at-home day, and Mrs. Dacres' at-homes werealways well-attended. On this occasion there were present a colonialbishop and his wife in addition to the usual "smart-set" in which thehostess moved.
Now Mrs. Dacres' Georgian silver tea service was the envy andadmiration of her guests, and Mrs. Colonial Bishop had beenpreviously told to pay particular attention to the magnificentteapot. In came the head footman, resplendent in his fine livery andpowdered hair, and placed the tray in front of the hostess. Thefar-famed teapot, enveloped in a huge cosy, was for the time beinghidden from admiring and covetous eyes.
"Pouring-out" was one of the great events of Mrs. Dacres' at-homes:it was a sort of sacrifice at the altar of conventionality.
The hostess, after having asked whether the guests took cream andsugar, made a preliminary flourish ere removing the covering that hidthe gorgeous silver teapot. The act was a silent appeal forattention, and all eyes were fixed in anticipation upon the piece ofplate that held the fragrant beverage.
With the dexterity of a practised conjuror Mrs. Dacres lifted thecosy. . . .
In the place of the teapot was a huge tortoise that blinked solemnlyat the sudden transit from darkness into light, and proceeded toslowly waddle across the slippery silver tray.
The next instant, amidst a chorus of shrieks, tortoise andtea-things, including the choicest Crown Derby, clattered o
n thefloor.
The sub's departure took place under a cloud. His mother's farewellwas somewhat chilly, while the colonel spoke his mind in a very bluntmanner.
"Mark my words, you confounded young fool!" he said, "unless you stopthis sort of thing there'll be trouble. It will end with your beingcourt-martialled and kicked out of the Service. And, by Jove! if youare, don't look to me for any sympathy."
But the funny part about the whole business was that Basil knewnothing about the tortoise episode until after the tea cosy wasremoved. His part of the joke was to take the blame upon his broadshoulders and to chuckle at the idea that he had been accused of whathe had not done. He was not asked for an explanation, nor did he giveone. He had no wish that punishment should fall upon the realculprit--his ten-year-old brother, Clarence; for the fond parentsnever for one moment suspected that guile could be found in theircherub-faced youngest-born child.
"Give you a cue--what about?" asked the midshipman.
The sub brought himself up with a round turn. He realized thatperhaps it was not altogether wise to confide in his subordinate overthe plan that had readily resolved itself in his brain.
"H'm!" he ejaculated. "Eccles seems rather up the pole about theprize-firing result. I suppose it's natural."
"Well, aren't you, sir?" asked Alderney. "I know I am, and so are therest of the gun-room. Just fancy! the midshipmen of the flagship,whom we licked hollow at cricket, actually had the cheek to row roundthe ship with a cock perched on a jack-staff in the bows, and thewhole crowd crowing like anything. Beastly bad form, I call it. Afterall, gunnery isn't everything, as the Admiral ought to know he hadwith the 'Aphrodite.'"
"The submarine? Yes, I remember. She's 'M. I.' now. That business hasgiven us a good lead in submarines and pretty well knocked the FlyingBranch into a cocked hat, worse luck."
And Dacres shook his shoulders deprecatingly. He had volunteered forthe Service with the Naval Wing of the Royal Flying Corps, but owingto an unexpected decision on the part of the First Lord to cut downthat part of the Service his offer had been declined.
Just then Sinclair, the duty-sub for the First Dog Watch, came ondeck, and Dacres, freed from his responsible duty of doing nothing inparticular, made his way below to the gun-room.
There the conversation was mainly upon the bumptiousness of theflagship. Dacres said little, but thought the more. After a while hewent to the half-deck and knocked at the Gunnery Lieutenant's cabindoor. He was there for nearly an hour, at the end of which time heapplied for leave till eight bells (noon) on the following day. Thishe obtained without difficulty, then changing into mufti he wentashore.