THE FOILED AIR RAID.
LATE that evening the "Sunderland" brought up in the Admiralty
Harbour at Dover, in company with three other light cruisers, two
monitors, and a flotilla of destroyers. All night long the men slept
at their guns, while the cruiser's searchlights aided those of the
forts both ashore and on the breakwater in sweeping the approach to
the sheltered harbour.
"Nothing to report," announced Barracombe, as Aubyn relieved him as
officer of the watch. "A jolly fine night. I shouldn't wonder if we
were favoured by a visit from a Zeppelin or two."
"A pretty jamb in the harbour," said Terence, giving a quick glance
at the maze of vessels. "Fortunately, I hear, we've several seaplanes
at our disposal."
Barracombe wished his relief good-night and descended the ladder to
retire to the seclusion of his cabin and sleep the sleep of
exhaustion, for he had had a strenuous time before the cruiser left
Devonport.
During the first hour nothing unusual occurred. The midshipman of the
watch reported "Rounds all correct, sir," to which Aubyn replied with
the stereotyped "Very good." Across the harbour came the faint hail
of the Night Guard as the picquet boat studiously visited every
vessel within the limits of the breakwater.
The masthead light of the flagship began to blink. A signalman on the
"Sunderland's" bridge snatched up a slate.
"General call, sir," he announced.
Deftly the man took down the message, then hurried to the chart-room
to decipher the code.
"Submarine E27 reports three hostile aeroplanes passing S.W. by W.
Position eleven miles N.N.E. of North Goodwin."
The warning was a brief one, for hardly had the ship's company been
called to their action stations when a faint buzzing, immediately
becoming louder and louder, announced that the raiders were
approaching the town and harbour of Dover.
Searchlights flashed skywards, while from beneath the old castle on
the lofty chalk cliffs half a dozen intrepid British airmen ascended
to meet the foe. Already the anti-aerial guns were stabbing the
darkness with lurid spurts of flame, while their shells, bursting
perilously close to the hostile aeroplanes, caused the calculating
Teutons to think better of the attempt.
It was an easy matter to steal over an unfortified town or village
and drop explosives; but for once the Germans were to learn the
wisdom of discrimination. Higher and higher they banked, until
catching a glimpse of the British seaplanes as they passed through
the path of one of the searchlights they precipitately turned tail.
"'Sunderland' and destroyer flotilla to proceed in support of
seaplanes," came the signal.
Hastily the pins of the mooring shackle were knocked out. Steam was
already raised, and in a very few minutes the light cruiser and her
attendant destroyers were slipping between the heads of the detached
breakwater and the Admiralty Pier.
But swift as were the light cruisers the seaplanes were quicker.
Already they were five or six miles out to sea, their position being
revealed by the flashes of the light guns as they exchanged shots
with the fugitive Taubes.
Suddenly with a dazzling flash a bomb exploded hardly twenty feet
from the "Sunderland's" starboard quarter. Five seconds later another
struck the water almost under the cruiser's bows, and a waft of
evil-smelling gas drifted across the navigation bridge, causing
officers and men to cough and gasp for breath.
The captain tried to give an order, but was unable to utter a sound.
Mutely he signed for the helm to be put hard over.
Terence understood. Literally groping his way through the thick
vapour, that even in the darkness showed an unmistakable greenish
hue, he found the quartermaster, who was clutching his throat and
struggling for breath.
Pushing the man aside Aubyn rapidly revolved the steam steering-gear.
Obediently the cruiser swung round, narrowly escaping a high
explosive missile that, had she maintained her course, would have
played havoc with her fo'c'sle.
All around the "Sunderland" the destroyers were dodging hither and
thither in order to attempt to avoid the hail of bombs that rained
from the sky. It was little short of a miracle that collisions did
not take place, for owing to the darkness, the suffocating fumes from
the missiles, and to the fact that most of the helmsmen were
temporarily blinded and choked, all attempt at formation was out of
the question.
From the after-bridge of the cruiser a searchlight flashed skywards.
For a few seconds even its powerful rays failed to penetrate the pall
of smoke, till an eddying gust freed the "Sunderland" from the
noxious fumes.
Then the source of the mysterious missiles was revealed. At a height
of over two thousand feet were a couple of Zeppelins. Taking
advantage of the fact that the attention of the British seaplanes and
destroyers was centred on the fugitive Taubes, these giant airships,
by reason of their altitude, were able to manoeuvre immediately above
the flotilla.
It was an opportunity too good to be missed, for although the
objective of the Zeppelins was a raid on London--they having decided
upon a circuitous course over Kent and Sussex borders in order to
avoid the air-stations at the Isle of Grain--the chance of raining a
shower of bombs upon the British cruiser and her attendant destroyers
was too tempting.
For once, at least, the German Admiralty had not been kept well
posted as to the details of armament of the cruisers of the "Town
Class," for the "Sunderland" and her consorts had recently been
equipped with a couple of 12-pounder anti-aircraft guns. These
weapons fired a shell of unique character. Somewhat resembling a
shrapnel, the missile was packed with short lengths of chain and
charged with a high explosive.
Almost as soon as the Zeppelins were discovered both guns barked
venomously. From the point of view of the observers on the
"Sunderland's" bridge the shells appeared to burst close to the frail
targets. Both airships were observed to pitch violently, while one,
with her nose tilted downwards, began to descend.
"She's done for!" exclaimed Terence.
A round of cheering burst from the throats of the crew. It seemed as
if nothing could arrest the seaward plunge of one of the Kaiser's
gas-bags. Not only had her bow compartments been holed but the
nacelle containing the propelling machinery was completely wrecked.
Both Zeppelins began to throw out ballast with frantic haste. They
also released the whole of their remaining supply of bombs, which
fell with a rapid series of deafening detonations more than half a
mile from the nearest destroyer.
With the release of the ballast the undamaged Zeppelin shot skywards
until her altitude was not less than ten thousand feet. Comparatively
safe for the time being from the effect of the anti-aircraft shells,
she floated, a mere speck in the concentrated yet diminished glare of
a dozen searchlights, and awaited events.
Meanwhile, the damaged Zeppelin had checked her plunge, and, in spite
of a hot fire, was slowly rising. By dint of strenuous efforts her
crew succeeded in shifting aft the travelling weight that served to
trim the unwieldy craft. Even then her longitudinal axis was sharply
inclined to the horizontal.
Everything that could be jettisoned was thrown overboard. Guns,
ammunition, stores, and the metal framework of the wrecked car were
sacrificed, till without being hit by the British guns, she rose to a
terrific height.
"We've lost her!" exclaimed Oswestry savagely.
"One thing, she won't trouble us again," added the commander. "And
I'm not so certain that she will get clear. We've wirelessed the
seaplanes, and they'll have a chip in. Hullo! What's the game now?"
A searchlight flashed from the undamaged Zeppelin and played in
ever-widening circles until it picked up her damaged consort. The
latter was consequently more plainly discernible to the crew of the
"Sunderland" than it had hitherto been, since the distance between
the two airships was less than a thousand yards and was visibly
decreasing.
"They're going to take her in tow, by Jove!" ejaculated Aubyn, who
had brought his binoculars to play upon the scene.
Oswestry gave a snort that implied disbelief in his brother-officer's
assertion, but presently he exclaimed:--
"Well, blest if you aren't right, old man. And a deuced smart move,"
he added, with a true sailor's admiration for a smart manoeuvre,
whether executed by friend or foe.
"What a chance for our seaplanes!" said the torpedo lieutenant.
"They ought to have been on the spot before this."
"They're on the way all right, Torps," declared the commander. "I
wouldn't mind betting a month's pay that they've spotted their
quarry. By Jove, they've established communication!"
The undamaged Zeppelin had circled round her consort and was now
forging gently ahead. An upward jerk of the other's bows announced
that the strain on the towing hawser was beginning to be felt.
Gradually the hitherto uncontrollable airship began to gather way,
both vessels rolling sluggishly in the light air-currents.
The aerial searchlight had now been switched off, but by means of the
rays directed from the British ships the progress of the two
Zeppelins could be followed as their huge shapes, showing ghost-like
in the silvery light, moved slowly in a north-easterly direction.
Having resumed their respective stations the cruiser and the
destroyer flotilla followed. Owing to the greatly reduced speed of
the hostile aircraft it was an easy matter to maintain a fixed
relative distance between them and the British vessels, whose
attention was divided between the prospect of an aerial meeting with
seaplanes and the risk of being intercepted by the torpedo of a
German submarine, to say nothing of floating mines.
"She's cast off!" shouted a dozen voices.
Such was the case. The two Zeppelins had parted company, one flying
off at a terrific speed, rising rapidly as she did so, while the
other, being without means of propulsion, drifted at the mercy of the
winds.
It was now dawn. The grey light of morning was already overcoming the
strength of the searchlights and it was already possible to discern
the outlines of the abandoned Zeppelin by the natural light of day.
Pelting up from the eastward came the air squadron of seaplanes. Half
a dozen circled and started off in pursuit of the fugitive airship,
which, travelling at high speed, was now but a faint speck against
the ruddy sky.
The rest advanced boldly upon the disabled Zeppelin, although
ignorant of the fact that she had jettisoned her guns, and, save for
a few rifles, was without means of defence.
The seaplanes' automatic guns spat viciously, and as the range
decreased almost every shot began to tell. The huge fabric once more
began to drop, as the small projectile ripped through the flimsy
aluminium envelope.
Presently the seaplanes ceased firing and circled triumphantly over
their vanquished foe. They knew that the Zeppelin was doomed, and
instincts of humanity forbade them to take undue advantage of the
plight of her crew.
"Away, boats!" ordered the "Sunderland's" captain.
Instantly there was a rush to man the boats and to stand by the
falls. With an alacrity that was part of his nature, Jack Tar
prepared to rescue his enemy, in spite of the fact that that enemy
had sallied forth with the deliberate intention of hurling bombs with
the utmost indiscrimination upon combatants and non-combatants alike,
not excepting helpless women and children.
Before the boats could be lowered a lurid blaze of light rolled out,
rivalling the rays of the rising sun. Where the Zeppelin had been
only a cloud of flame-tinged smoke remained, while from the
mushroomed pall of vapour that marked a funereal pyre of yet another
unit of the Kaiser's air-fleet, scorched and twisted girders and
other débris streamed seawards.
Whether by accident or design the only remaining petrol tank had
exploded, and the flames instantly igniting the huge volume of
hydrogen had in the twinkling of an eye completed the work of
destruction.
For ten minutes the destroyers cruised over the spot where the
débris had disappeared, but there were no signs of survivors, not
even of wreckage. The remains of the Zeppelin had been swallowed up
by the insatiable sea, and no visible trophy remained in the hands of
the men who had baulked an attempted raid on the largest city of the
world.
Before the flotilla regained Dover Harbour the remaining seaplanes
came in sight. Unfortunately their efforts at pursuit were futile.
The Zeppelin developing a turn of speed far in excess of which she
had been credited by her detractors, had shaken off the British
aircraft, and when last seen she was high over the Belgian coast.
Nevertheless, her wings had been clipped, although she survived to
tell the tale that the hated English were still able vigorously and
successfully to dispute the mastery of the air.