THE FATE OF A SPY
"ALL out, Dick," shouted Blake, at the same time coupling up the wing
mechanism. Sergeant O'Rafferty, springing to the after machine-gun,
swung the weapon upon the nearmost of the German troops. As he did so
a ragged volley greeted him, the bullets either passing through the
aluminium covering of the chassis or else whizzing harmlessly
overhead.
With her wings beating the air with tremendous force the battleplane
drew clear of Mother Earth. Four or five Germans, rushing forward,
clung desperately to the framework of the landing wheels, amongst
them the Hun who had so successfully posed as a Belgian officer.
Unfortunately for them they had totally under-estimated the lifting
power of the mechanical bird. Blinded by the cloud of dust thrown up
by the flapping of the huge wings and deafened by the roar of the
exhaust--for Dick had opened the cut-out in order to give the motors
full play--the Germans were unable to realise that their efforts to
keep the battleplane pinned to the ground were unavailing.
Although the machine rose rapidly it lacked the speed that it usually
attained. Powerfully engined as she was the battleplane could not
ignore the additional weight of five burly Brandenburgers.
"Motors running well, Dick?" asked Blake, shouting to make himself
heard above the terrific din.
"Splendidly now," replied the lad.
"Then see what's dragging her," continued the pilot, whose whole
attention had to be centred upon the steering of the machine.
Dick made his way to the still open hatchway in the floor of the
fuselage. He was hardly prepared for the sight that met his gaze.
Three Germans were astraddle of the horizontal girders supporting the
legs of the landing-wheels. Another had thrown arms and legs round an
upright and was bellowing lustily. The treacherous Hun who, under the
name of Etienne Fauvart, had all but succeeded in capturing the
secret battleplane, was clambering up the lattice work, with his
revolver hanging from his teeth by means of the lanyard. Dick
promptly shut the sliding hatch and made his way to his superior
officer.
"We've a fine crew of Huns hanging on," he reported. "Five of them,
and that skunk Fauvart in addition. I'd like to get hold of him and
find out what's happened to Athol."
"In that case we should have to make a prisoner of him," replied
Blake grimly. "No; he'll pay for his treachery now. I don't believe
in prolonging the agony. Pass the word to Sergeant O'Rafferty to hold
on tightly. And, please, muffle the exhaust. We'll alarm every Bosch
within ten miles of us."
Directly the motors were silenced a deafening concussion was heard
close to the underside of the chassis. A shrapnell shell, one of
many, had just exploded. Some of the bullets perforated the wings or
pinged harmlessly against the armoured plating of the fuselage. Two
of the Huns, struck by flying fragments of metal, relaxed their grip
and fell through space on their long journey to the ground three
thousand feet below.
"All ready?" shouted Blake warningly.
The battleplane tilted abruptly and made a complete loop. In five
seconds she had regained her normal flying trim, but without the
treacherous German and his compatriots. They, unable to retain their
hold under the sudden change of direction, were hurtling earthwards,
their despairing screams still ringing in the ears of the horrified
Dick.
But other work was on hand to distract the lad's mind from the act of
retribution. Desmond Blake's searching glance had discerned the roofs
of four large sheds almost hidden between the trees, the roofs being
mottled so as to resemble as closely as possible the characteristics
of the surrounding verdure.
Rising to such a height that there was little danger from a direct
hit from the "Archibalds," the battleplane hovered over her
objective, spiralling in sharp curves so that the limit of her flight
brought her well within the perpendicular distance of her quarry.
At the order Sergeant O'Rafferty dropped two bombs in quick
succession. The first, striking the ground close to the edge of the
clearing, exploded with terrific violence, felling huge trees like
ninepins and literally pulverising the nearmost shed. Almost
simultaneously the second bomb alighted fairly in the centre of
another Zeppelin house. A stupendous explosion followed, a blast of
lurid flame leaping skywards, and rending the gloom of twilight like
the concentrated flash of a dozen fifteen-inch guns. The roar of the
detonation was appalling. The battleplane, under the influence of the
far-reaching up-blast, shook like an aspen leaf, and fell vertically
through a distance of nearly five hundred feet before the resistance
of the wings restored her equilibrium.
The appalling nature of the work of destruction so overwhelmed the
men at the anti-aircraft guns that they ceased firing. Undisturbed
the battleplane continued circling, although at a much lower
altitude, her crew examining the results of the bombs with studied
leisure.
When most of the smoke had cleared away, although portions of the
wreckage still burned furiously, it was seen that there was no
necessity to drop more bombs. Not a single shed was left standing.
Gaunt skeletons of destroyed Zeppelins reared their bent and twisted
aluminium ribs betwixt the gaping metal sheets that a few minutes
previously had concealed some of the latest types of the Kaiser's
air-raiders.
"Shall we give them another, just for luck, sir?" asked Sergeant
O'Rafferty.
"Not necessary," replied Blake, as he turned the battleplane in the
direction of a faint yellowish path of light upon the horizon--the
last vestige of declining day. "Lock the bomb-dropping gear,
sergeant."
O'Rafferty hastened to obey, but by pure accident his foot slipped
and came in contact with the disengaging pedal. Eleven seconds later
came the crash of the exploding bomb.
"Sorry, sir," exclaimed the sergeant apologetically.
"Let's hope it isn't wasted," rejoined Blake, ordering the motors to
be run "all out."
In the darkness the battleplane passed high above the opposing lines
of trenches, their outlines rendered distinctly visible by the
flashes of rapid rifle and machine gun fire, and the occasional glare
of star-shells, punctuated by the high-explosive projectiles.
"Give them a call up, sergeant," ordered the pilot.
O'Rafferty brought the wireless into use, unwinding eighty feet of
"aerial" that trailed behind the swiftly-moving battleplane. In
answer to the message a blaze of electric arc lamps appeared upon the
flying-ground.
Almost before the sergeant had wound in the aerial the battleplane
was ready for her earthward glide. Flattening out to a nicety she
landed within twenty feet of the door of the hangar, and was
immediately surrounded by a throng of eager flying men.
"Instructions have been carried out, sir," reported Blake to the Wing
Commander. "Three, possibly four, Zepps have been destroyed."
"Any casualties?" asked the commander.
"Mr. Hawke missing, and believed a prisoner, sir. We had to make an
involuntary landing, and were rushed by a German patrol. In the
circumstances no attempt at rescue was possible."
"And where is Lieutenant Fauvart?" continued the Wing Commander.
Desmond Blake smiled grimly.
"You palmed off a dud on us, sir," he reported, "so we dropped him. I
don't think he crashed more than a couple of thousand feet, but it
was quite enough to cause the German Intelligence Staff to lose one
of their pet stars."