THE ELUSIVE OBJECTIVE
"By Jove! old man," exclaimed Kirkwood, "we're up against a big
thing to-morrow."
Billy Barcroft merely nodded. It was "a big thing," this impending
movement. Something that was well worth the risk, but at the same
time the chances of the participators in the business returning were
very remote.
The two chums were pacing the port side of the quarter-deck of the
"Hippodrome"--a long and comparatively narrow space betwixt the rise
of the deck-houses and the stern, and separated from the
corresponding part on the starboard side by the inclined launching
platform.
The seaplane-carrier was lying in a certain East Coast harbour, with
steam raised ready to proceed at a moment's notice, and although her
destination was supposed to be a strict secret, the nature of the
forthcoming operations was known to all on board.
It was nothing less than a raid on Cuxhaven, where a considerable
portion of the German High Seas Fleet was known to be "resting"
after a speculative but cautious cruise off the west coast of
Jutland, the object being twofold--to exercise the crews and to
impress upon the incredulous Danes the fact that the fleet of the
Black Cross Ensign were willing and anxious to meet the British
navy.
With their U-boats well out to sea, their ocean-going torpedo-boats
forming a far-flung screen, and Zeppelins hovering overhead, the Hun
"capital ships" had steamed in and out, keeping within their
protective mine-fields: Having accomplished this imposing evolution
the battleships of the fleet returned, part going to Cuxhaven, the
rest to Wilhelmshaven, while the bulk of the torpedo flotillas
anchored off the east side of Heligoland.
Once more the German Press had burst forth into a panegyric on the
invincible and undaunted prowess of the fleet of the Fatherland,
taking good care to impress upon the people that, although every
opportunity had been offered to the British to engage in battle, the
challenge had been declined.
The projected raid upon Cuxhaven was a reply to the Huns' empty
boast. The seaplane carriers "Hippodrome," "Arena," "Cursus" and
"Stadium," escorted by light cruisers and destroyers, were to
proceed to a rendezvous twenty miles west of Heligoland. Sixty miles
away the British battle cruisers were to "standby," ready, at a
wireless call for assistance, to tear off at full speed to the
succour of the small craft should the latter, regarded as an easy
prey, be attacked by the big-gun ships of the German navy.
At the first blush of dawn twenty seaplanes were to start from their
parent ships on their perilous flight over the Heligoland Bight and
drop their powerful bombs upon the naval port of Cuxhaven--a feat
that, knowing the formidable anti-aircraft defences, promised to be
a forlorn hope; yet there was the keenest competition amongst the
airmen of the fleet to participate in the "grand stunt."
The A.P. had carried out his promise to Barcroft. He had sold Billy
the deeds of Mrs. Deringhame's house at Alderdene, and the
flight-sub had sent them anonymously to Betty's mother.
It was a tremendous financial sacrifice on Billy's part. It had
practically wiped up the bulk of his capital, but Barcroft cared not
one jot for that. What troubled him was the fact that he could not
ask Betty to marry him on his meagre pay. He had very little doubt
but that the girl would do so, for during his last leave he had been
much in her company.
"It wouldn't be fair to Betty," he soliloquised. "I must rake in
some more cash, but goodness only knows how long it will take. One
thing, we are both young, or I'm hanged if I would have the nerve to
ask her to wait! Well, if this raid comes off successfully it will
mean promotion. That's one blessing. If it doesn't--well, Billy
Barcroft won't be in a position to worry about anything, I guess."
The flight-sub had completed his preparations. Two letters, one to
his parents and one to Betty Deringhame, had been written, sealed
and handed to the fleet-paymaster to be forwarded in the event of
the writer's death. This unpleasant but necessary business
performed, Barcroft dismissed the matter from his mind and
concentrated his thoughts and energies on the work in hand.
"All correct, Jones?" he asked, addressing the air-mechanic who was
putting the finishing touches to the seaplane that was to carry
Barcroft and Kirkwood on their adventurous flight.
"All correct, sir," was the reply. "I've advanced the spark a
trifle, sir she ought to simply buzz; but perhaps you'll see that
everything's to your satisfaction."
Carefully Billy tested his controls, examined unions, contact
breaker, and automatic lubricators. Success depended upon motor
efficiency almost as much as upon the skill and courage of the
pilot. The slightest hitch might spell disaster.
"There's the permission to part company," announced Kirkwood as a
signal, made in response to a display of bunting from the yard-arms
of the respective seaplane-carriers, was hoisted from the naval
signal station. "Wonder if I'll see Old England again," he added in
an undertone.
Already the cruisers were steaming out of harbour; not in the pomp
of pre-war days with guards drawn up on the quarter-deck and bands
playing as each vessel passed the flagship. Silent and grim, huge
emblems 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-carriers
were next to leave. On gaining the open sea they formed line
abreast, surrounded by their vigilant escort; the light cruisers,
reducing speed to that of the convoy, taking up station two miles
astern.
In this formation the flotilla reeled off knot after knot without
incident, until late in the evening, when two of the destroyers on
the "Hippodrome's" starboard beam began a rapid fire that lasted
nearly five minutes, breaking station and circling in a fashion that
recalled the preliminary manoeuvres of a pair of cautious boxers.
"U-boat, somewhere over there," commented Fuller, who with Barcroft
and the A.P. was on deck in preference to the somewhat boisterous
ward-room. "I don't think they've got her. Wonder if she's dived and
avoided the cordon. If so we'll have to look out."
"Hope she won't bag us at this stage of the proceedings," said
Kirkwood. "At any rate, our quick-fires are manned, and it will be
dark in another half-hour."
The two destroyers had resumed station, having signalled to the
effect that no definite result was observed but it was believed that
the U-boat's periscopes had been smashed by gun-fire.
"The trouble will come later, I think," said Barcroft when the
message was communicated to the "Hippodrome's" officers. "If she
isn't winged she'll rise to the surface after we're out of sight and
wireless the news to the Heligoland signal station. The mere mention
of 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 you
to do the same."
Well before dawn the airmen detailed for the raid were roused from
their sleep, or rather their efforts to slumber, since few were
sufficiently proof against the excitement of the forthcoming
expedition to enjoy a good night's rest.
Breakfast over, the members of the forlorn hope donned their leather
coats and flying helmets, and assembled aft for final instructions
from the wing commander.
"There is to be no easing down to keep pace with the slowest
machine," were his instructions. "Each man is to go for his
objective at top speed. You have noted the positions of the various
batteries, I trust? It would be well to leave the Glienicke Redoubt
well on your left. It's the only one, I believe, that mounts the
latest Krupp's antis. On no account must the bombing seaplane
attempt to encounter hostile aircraft on the outward flight: leave
that task to the escorting planes. If, however, you fall in with any
Zeppelins, attack immediately. One more point: should the situation
necessitate the withdrawal of the seaplane-carriers and their
escorts you know your instructions? Good. Well, gentlemen, that is
all I have to say, beyond wishing you the best of luck and a safe
return."
Barcroft's machine was the last to leave the "Hippodrome's"
launching platform, and the last but one of the raiding craft. It
was still dark. The misty outlines of the nearmost biplanes could be
just discerned as they rose swiftly and steadily above the invisible
destroyers. The crews of the latter gave the airmen three rousing
cheers as they swept overhead, but the tribute was wasted. The
farewell 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 over
hauled by the one from the "Cursus," and what was more she was
slowly yet surely dropping astern.
It did not appear to be the fault of the engine. The timing and
firing seemed perfect. The motor was running like a clock, yet the
rest of the raiding aircraft, most of which he knew were usually
slightly inferior in speed, were distinctly gaining.
With the growing dawn the four escorting battle seaplanes could be
distinguished, two on either side of the long-drawn line of bomb
dropping air-craft. It was the duty of the former to engage any
hostile aeroplane that attempted to bar the progress of the latter.
Armoured and carrying two light quick-firers they were more than a
match for the German airmen, and the latter were fully aware of the
fact.
"Hang it all!" muttered the flight-sub as he actuated the rudder-bar
and tilted the ailerons in order to check a cross-drift and to
increase the altitude. "It's getting jolly misty. Hope it doesn't
mean fog."
The rearmost of the rest of the air-squadron was now almost
invisible, the others entirely so. As a matter of precaution
Barcroft took a hurried compass bearing, fervently hoping that the
mist 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 with
McKenzie if it can be avoided."
"It can't," replied his observer. "He's just been swallowed up by
the mist."
"I'll climb higher still," decided Billy. "There must be a limit to
this rotten patch of vapour."
For another ten minutes Barcroft held on his course. He could not be
far from land, he decided. Already the leading raiders must have
achieved their object, if it were possible to see their target, and
were on their return journey. The chances of a collision in mid-air
with one of the British seaplanes suggested itself. The idea was not
an inviting one--the impact of two frail and swiftly moving objects
at an aggregate rate of nearly two hundred miles an hour, and the
sickening crash to earth. There would be some satisfaction in
knowing that an enemy aircraft was destroyed in this fashion, but
the possibility--remote, no doubt--of sending one's fellow airmen
and oneself to instant destruction was a proposition for which the
misty 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 long
glide. The almost total silence, save for the swish of the air
against the planes and struts, was broken by a succession of loud
rumbles. 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 the
pilot. "Can you see any flashes?"
"Not a sign," replied the observer. "The sounds seem as if they are
coming from the right now abaft the beam, if anything."
"It's a proper mix up," thought Barcroft. "Fog plays the very deuce
with sound. If the other fellows are able to drop their bombs it
proves that the mist is confined to the upper air. Dash it all! Are
we never going to get clear of this muck?"
He jerked his goggles upwards until they rested on his cap. For all
practical purposes they were useless, although guaranteed to be
immune from the effect of moisture. The front of his coat was
glistening with particles of ice. Everything he touched was slippery
with rime. Jets of vapour, caused by the cold moisture coming in
contact with the warm cylinders, drifted into his face and buffeted
his bloodshot eyes.
"It's almost as bad as the night when Fuller and I strafed that
Zep.," thought Kirkwood, who, although in a more sheltered position
than his companion, came in for a generous share of the atmospheric
discomforts.
A sudden jerk, so severe that it was a wonder the huge wing-spread
did not collapse under the rapid change of pressure as Barcroft
tilted the ailerons, told the observer that something had been
sighted. Almost simultaneously the motor was restarted and the
seaplane rising and banking steeply almost grazed the topmasts of a
number of ships.
Kirkwood grasped the lever of the bomb-dropping gear and hung on
till the order to let rip. But Barcroft gave no indication for the
work of destruction.
"Sailing craft," he said to himself. "I could see their topsail
yards. They are not what we want. Evidently we are over the
commercial part of the harbour, if this is Cuxhaven. I'll buzz round
and see if we have any luck."
Round and round in erratic curves, ascending and descending, the
seaplane sped, yet without sighting any more shipping. Twice she
came within sight of the ground, descending to within fifty feet in
order to do so, but only an expanse of tilled fields rewarded the
pilot's efforts. Then, climbing to a safe altitude he again
volplaned in the hope of being guided by the sound of the
bombardment. Again his endeavours met with no success. All was
quiet, beyond the discordant clanging of a distant bell. The raiders
had come and gone. Whether the fog had cut short their operations,
or whether the air had been sufficiently clear to enable them to
locate their objective, he knew not. The fact remained that Billy
and the A.P. were lost in the fog and unable to carry out their
allotted part of the strafing affair. They might be ten, twenty, or
even thirty miles over German territory, so vague had been their
course. Unless they speedily made tracks for the rendezvous they
stood a good chance of running short of petrol should the fog extend
sufficiently seaward to prevent them sighting the waiting seaplane
carriers.
"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 were
increasing in size, and, driven into the airmen's faces by the rush
of the seaplane through the air, were lacerating their skin until
their features were hidden by congealed blood. Goggles being worse
than useless, the two officers were compelled to close their eyelids
to within a fraction of an inch and suffer acute torments from the
biting air.
Very cautiously Barcroft planed down until the altitude gauge
indicated a hundred feet, Seeing and hearing nothing he descended
still further, restarting the engine as a matter of precaution.
Presently a rift in the wall of vapour enabled both pilot and
observer to discern a flat, greyish expanse of sand through which
several small channels wound sinuously.
"Good!" muttered Billy. "Now we know, more or less. We're over the
sandbanks 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 in
density; then, with a suddenness that left the two airmen blinking
in the watery sunshine, the seaplane dashed into the clear daylight.
The sight that met their eyes was particularly cheerful. Ahead, at a
distance of about four miles, lay the island fortress of Heligoland.
But for one reason Barcroft would have made unhesitatingly for this
strongly fortified rock of sandstone, drop his cargo of explosives
and trust to luck to get clear. There was a more tempting
inducement, for almost directly underneath the British seaplane was
a large German warship.