CHAPTER II THE DERELICT 23
CHAPTER III THE DECOY 44
CHAPTER IV A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 62
CHAPTER V THE HOAX 80
CHAPTER VI PRISONER OF WAR 95
CHAPTER VII THE RIDING LIGHT 120
CHAPTER VIII THE BELL BUOY 136
CHAPTER IX ABANDON SHIP! 157
CHAPTER I
THE NIGHT ATTACK
Flight-Lieutenant Lawless sat on an empty soap-box in a large shed
watching his mechanic cleaning the engines of a monoplane which was
housed there. The Lieutenant was sucking vigorously at an empty pipe,
and, although his face wore an expression of deep melancholy, this was
not a case of cause and effect, the gloom was due to his thoughts, not
to his ineffectual efforts to draw smoke from an unfilled pipe--and he
had plenty of tobacco, anyhow.
Misfortune seemed to have dogged his footsteps ever since his
transference from the Navy proper into the Flying Wing. In the first
place he had discovered, with feelings of mingled astonishment and
humiliation, that he was subject to violent attacks of air-sickness
which, so far from wearing off, grew more acute as time went on. That
this should happen to a man who had navigated a little cockle-shell of a
destroyer in the stormiest weather with never a qualm seemed
preposterous. But it was so, and, though the shameful secret was shared
only by his mechanic, he was always fearing discovery. Also, because the
Fates were against him, he had smashed up two monoplanes, and, with his
mechanic, only escaped death by a miracle. As a result of the inquiries
following upon these two mishaps Lawless had been severely censured, and
his chances of being sent out to the Front remained less hopeful than
ever.
No wonder he felt depressed at thought of these things, and fervently
wished himself back aboard the old _Knat_, chasing up and down the North
Sea in search of enemy ships.
But his meditations were suddenly interrupted by Mike Cassidy, the
mechanic. Mike was fumbling in his pockets, a comical look of
bewilderment on his face.
"Th' divil!" he said.
"What?" asked Lawless, suddenly waking up.
"'Twas to meself I wus spaking, yer honour."
"Just calling yourself names, eh?" said the Lieutenant, with a twinkle
in his eye.
Mike went on searching his pockets, and at last gave an exclamation of
relief. The couple of tiny screws which he had carefully wrapped in a
piece of paper and then mislaid had come to light. He took them out, and
then threw down the piece of paper, which fluttered to the ground. The
Lieutenant idly picked it up, his thoughts far away on those visionary
battlefields, and glanced absentmindedly at the print. It was a notice
issued by the North British Railway, and read as follows:--
"FIVE POUNDS reward will be paid to anyone giving information
leading to the arrest and conviction of the person or persons who
on the night of the 4th inst. caused disfiguring paint marks to be
made on the railway track and girders of the Forth Bridge."
Lawless was not a Sherlock Holmes, so he did not try to draw inferences
or make deductions from the statement he had just read. Still, it
puzzled him. Why should any "person or persons" employ their leisure
moments in dabbing paint on the girders and track of the Forth Bridge?
Lawless tossed the paper aside, and, for a time at least, forgot all
about the notice. It was not till later on that he had occasion to
recall it.
"I expect we shall have to go out to-night, Mike, so have everything
ready," he said, rising to his feet.
"I will that, yer honour!" answered Mike, turning a hot and beaming face
upon his superior.
As he had anticipated, Lawless received orders to set out at eight
o'clock that night on a scouting expedition. Although the public was
kept in ignorance of the fact, the military authorities were nightly
expecting a German attack on Rosyth. Every precaution had been taken to
render such an attack abortive, and the entrance to the Forth was
guarded by destroyers and submarines. Still, the seemingly impossible
sometimes happens in time of war, and there was always a chance that the
enemy might creep through the defences by some means or other. Already
an apparently harmless merchant steamer had been stopped off Leith, and,
upon examination, found to be chock-full of dynamite ready to be fired
by time-fuses. No doubt this would have been exploded under the Forth
Bridge, with the result that no warships could have entered or left
Rosyth till the river mouth had been cleared of the _débris_.
As an additional precaution, therefore, two or three aeroplanes were
sent out nightly to scout along the coast from Fife Ness to St. Abb's
Head. The aviators so employed found it a monotonous, unexciting task in
which, so it seemed, neither glory nor promotion was to be earned.
And this particular night's scouting proved as tame and uneventful as
the rest. Under normal conditions, a night flight above the Firth of
Forth as far west as Linlithgow would have afforded a most picturesque
spectacle with the lighted towns and cities beneath. But now Edinburgh,
Linlithgow, and Dundee, and even the small towns and villages, were
practically in darkness, since nearly all the public lights, besides
those of the great emporiums and factories, were either unlit or else
shielded from observation above. And out at sea only merchant vessels
showed lights, those carried by warships, large and small, being masked.
"Even the passenger flights at Hendon were more exciting than this!"
growled the Lieutenant to himself as, just before dawn, he steered a
homeward course in the direction of the Forth.
He little thought as he uttered his complaint that within twenty-four
hours he would have had enough excitement to last him a lifetime.
The machine had reached the Forth and was crossing it just above the
bridge, when Mike, who sat immediately behind the Lieutenant, uttered an
exclamation:
"Are me eyes desaving me, or have the hivins turned topsy-turvy?"
"What's the matter?" asked Lawless, for the patent wind-screen with
which the machine was fitted made conversation possible even when
travelling at a high speed.
"Thim stars below us, sorr. Sure now, is it upside down we're flying?"
Lawless looked below, and saw what at first seemed to justify Mike's
anxiety as to the position of the heavens. Immediately beneath the
machine was a cluster of luminous specks for all the world like distant
stars, shining up instead of down upon them. They were certainly not
lamps of any sort, and the dull glow they gave out seemed as if it might
be the reflection of some distant lights. Yet there was no moon, nor, so
far as Lawless could discover, anything which could account for this
extraordinary effect of reflected light.
He circled over the bridge two or three times, hoping to discover the
cause of this mystery, but without success. While he was doing this a
train rumbled across the bridge, and during its passage Lawless noted
that the luminous specks disappeared. They were again observable as soon
as the train had passed, however, and the Lieutenant concluded from this
that they were situated on the railway track itself.
"Deuced queer business!" he muttered.
But there was no time to make further investigations that night, so he
continued his flight to Montrose, still pondering over the mystery.
"By the way, Mike," he said, when they had alighted opposite the hangar,
"don't say anything about those lights we saw on the bridge. I'm going
to investigate the matter myself."
Mike readily promised, and Lawless was strolling away when a thought
suddenly struck him.
"By Jove!" he ejaculated aloud. "I believe I've got it!"
His memory had flashed back to the notice he had read, offering a reward
in connection with certain paint marks on the Forth Bridge. No doubt the
misguided "person or persons" who had daubed the bridge had used
luminous paint. This, of course, would explain the phosphorescent glow
which had so puzzled him.
The question now was, had it been done merely as a joke or for some
specific object? If for a joke, it was difficult to see where the humour
came in; if for an object, it was equally difficult to see what purpose
it could serve.
"I'll have a closer look at the bridge when I've rested a bit," he told
himself.
That afternoon the Lieutenant took a train to Queensferry. He then set
out to walk back over the bridge along the railway track. The paint
daubs were clearly visible, though not, of course, phosphorescent in the
daylight. It struck him as peculiar that these marks had a definite
shape, or rather two definite shapes. One took the form of a St.
Andrew's Cross, the other the form of a star--that is, instead of two
intersecting lines of the same length, there were four.
But that was not all. A careful examination showed that these stars were
placed at the weakest part of the bridge; in other words the parts which
would be easiest to destroy by means of dynamite. Finally, the marks
could only be seen from above the bridge, not from below it.
Lawless whistled softly when he had made these discoveries.
He returned to the depot, and went at once to his commanding officer and
told him of the discoveries he had made. He also explained at some
length his own theory concerning them. The commanding officer listened
patiently at first because he was a good-natured fellow and liked to see
his officers exercise initiative and resource. But his interest in the
story soon flagged, and when Lawless began to state his deductions it
wilted entirely. An expression of resigned boredom appeared on the
officer's face and remained there till the interview came to an end.
"So you see," concluded the Lieutenant eagerly, "it requires no great
effort of imagination to realise what the German plans are."
But it required more imagination than the commanding officer was capable
of exercising. Indeed, he was not an imaginative man and prided himself
upon the fact. He didn't regard imagination as consistent with the
duties of a soldier; consequently, he made no effort to encourage it in
those under his command.
"It's a very ingenious theory, very!" he said; "but unfortunately the
grounds upon which you base it appear to me to be entirely
unsatisfactory."
And for the time being that settled the matter so far as the commanding
officer was concerned.
That evening, when the Lieutenant arrived at the hangar preparatory to
setting out on the nightly scouting expedition, he brought with him a
curious looking implement. It consisted of a stout spar about ten feet
long, at the end of which was attached a long, curved knife, not unlike
a billhook in appearance.
It was not difficult to fix the spar securely to the machine so that the
business end protruded about six feet beyond the driver's seat, somewhat
after the manner of a steel-pointed ram. This done, and it being time to
set off, the machine was taken out of the hangar and a few minutes later
Lawless and Mike were high above the flight station.
Lawless now steered straight for the Forth Bridge, as he wanted to find
out first of all whether the luminous marks were still visible. Having
satisfied himself that they showed up as vividly as ever, he swept round
in an easterly direction, making straight for the open sea.
They had just passed above the Bass Rock, when the Lieutenant, who had
been gazing expectantly into the darkness ahead, shouted a question to
Mike:
"Do you see anything in front of us?"
The Irishman, who possessed remarkably keen eyes, raised himself a
little and peered over the Lieutenant's shoulder.
"B the powers, if 'tis not a dirigible, 'tis the ghost av wan!" he
exclaimed.
"I thought so," replied Lawless in a tone of grim satisfaction. "And,
what's more," he added under his breath, "she's making straight for the
Forth."
Both the aeroplane and the airship must have been travelling at a very
considerable speed, for even as the Lieutenant spoke the dirigible
changed from a blurred outline into a well-defined shape. There was no
mistaking her now--a gigantic Zeppelin, armed, no doubt, with bombs and
machine guns.
"Now we'll have a chance of testing this little invention of mine,"
murmured the Lieutenant, almost with a chuckle; and he gave a glance of
satisfaction at the weird apparatus attached to the machine.
As a preliminary to the duel the Lieutenant rose in the air, circled
above the dirigible, and then swooped down and passed abreast of the
car, so close that the crew could be distinctly seen.
"That's the challenge!" he shouted gleefully. "Now for it!"
Making a wide sweep, he steered full-tilt at the airship's tremendous
gas vessel in such manner as to rip it up with the hooked knife attached
to the spar. That was his sole weapon of offence, and he hoped, by
repeated attacks, to destroy completely the gas-bag and thus cause the
vessel to sink.
The task was harder, even, than it looked, for the Zeppelin, like all
dirigibles, was provided with a number of separate gas compartments, so
that a leakage in one would not materially affect the stability of the
whole structure, which would only collapse after several gas chambers
had been ripped open.
A strange thrill passed through both men as their little machine rushed
against the tremendous bulk of the airship, much as a swordfish might
attack a whale. Suddenly there was a tearing, ripping sound; the
monoplane quivered from nose to tail with the shock of the impact and
then passed right across the top of the gas vessel, the knife rending
the fabric as it went.
"Well, that's lost them some gas, anyhow," murmured Lawless as he
brought the head of the machine round, ready to swoop down a second
time.
As they approached again they could hear shouts from the airship, and
the next moment a small projectile whistled past them.
"They're using a pneumatic gun," ejaculated the Lieutenant.
Before another shot could reach them, the knife attached to the
aeroplane was again tearing its way through the fabric of the balloon,
making a tremendous slit right across the upper part of one side. As
Lawless brought the machine round once more he saw the airship heel, and
judged from this that she must have lost a considerable quantity of gas,
several compartments having probably been ripped open.
"Three or four more attacks like the last, and she'll collapse," he
said.
He steered as before straight at the swaying bulk of the airship, which,
after the first attack, had reduced her speed to about twenty miles an
hour. Then, as the knife thrust itself into the gas vessel, there was a
sharp, cracking sound. The aeroplane seemed to stop with a terrific
jerk, tilting forward to such an extent that both pilot and mechanic
were nearly flung from their seats. Then, recovering its balance with
equal suddenness, it darted forward and passed the dirigible.
"Saints preserve us!" ejaculated Mike. "Wus it a cyclone or a church
staple that struck us, yer honour?"
As a matter of fact the knife had struck one of the aluminium girders
which formed the framework of the balloon structure, and snapped off.
"Be ready to take the steering wheel!" shouted Lawless.
He bent forward, and, picking up a long sheath-knife which formed part
of the aeroplane's equipment, placed it in the belt of his leather
jacket. Then, turning the machine, he wheeled round once more, rose
above the dirigible, and then descended until only a few feet separated
the aeroplane from the gigantic gas-bag immediately beneath it.
"Take the wheel now!" he cried, and then, to Mike's amazement and
horror, stood up and leapt out of the monoplane, alighting on the broad
surface of the airship's gas envelope.
Finding himself safe, he drew his knife and started to rip and hack at
the skin of the balloon. He had known, before making his perilous leap,
that he was courting almost certain death, for, should he succeed in
deflating the gas vessel, he himself would share in the disaster which
must follow.
Yet he knew that if the dirigible reached the Forth Bridge her crew
would be able to drop explosives without serious interruption. There
were no anti-aircraft guns in the neighbourhood at that time, while an
attempt to beat off the aerial monster with rifle fire would be
hopeless. He alone could avert the threatened disaster.
The monoplane, now in charge of Mike, had disappeared in the darkness,
and Lawless supposed that the mechanic had gone off to give the alarm.
While the Lieutenant was still hacking away at the balloon fabric, a
man's head appeared above the rounded edge of the gas vessel. Lawless
did not notice him at first, but when the portion of fabric upon which
he was kneeling suddenly grew taut under the climber's weight he looked
up.
"The devil!" he muttered.
He gripped his knife tightly and drew back a little. He had an idea that
he might be able to spring upon his antagonist before the latter had
time to assume the offensive. Just as he was about to do this a second
head appeared above the edge of the balloon, but on the opposite side
and Lawless realised that his first plan was now hopeless. There was
nothing for it but to await the attack. Yet even then he could not
restrain a grim smile at the thought of his extraordinary position.
There had been many strange combats in many strange places; but surely
never before had there been a fight on the top of a huge airship five or
six hundred feet above the sea.
Nearer and nearer crept the men, one on each side of the Lieutenant, and
the latter braced his muscles for the coming struggle. Then, as if
acting upon a given signal, the two Germans simultaneously levelled
revolvers at him, at the same time shouting something he could not
understand.
To have attempted resistance when covered by two revolvers would simply
have been courting a useless death, and so Lawless, guessing what they
wanted, threw his knife away and made a sign that he surrendered. After
all, he reflected, he might do more as a live prisoner than as a dead
hero.
The men crawled up to him, and one, who had the end of a rope round his
waist, slipped it off and placed the noose beneath the aviator's
shoulders, then, both holding the line, they lowered their prisoner down
through a sort of hatch, and eventually he found himself standing upon
the deck of the airship.
"Who are you?" asked a voice in excellent English; and, turning, the
Lieutenant saw that his questioner was an officer, evidently the
commander of the Zeppelin.
"Flight-Lieutenant Lawless. Who are you?"
The officer stared at the Englishman for a moment. Then, without
deigning to answer what, under the circumstances, must have seemed an
impudent question, he turned to give an order to his men.
The great airship lurched forward, and Lawless knew by the rush of wind
that she was travelling at full speed again towards her destination.
Meanwhile a couple of men bent a rope round his wrists and ankles and
then lashed him to one of the elastic steel girders which encircled the
car. Ten minutes later the Lieutenant caught sight of a dull glow in the
sky to westward, and knew that they were fast approaching Edinburgh--and
the Forth Bridge.
Lawless was at the fore-end of the car, and almost in total darkness,
for not only were the lights on deck masked, but the crew worked with
electric torches which threw out only momentary gleams of light. Taking
advantage of this, he began to work the cord which bound his wrists up
and down against the sharp edges of the girder till at last he frayed
the rope sufficiently to break it.
This done, to remove the cords from his ankles was but the work of a
moment, and then he stood free to act once more. For a time, however, he
did not move, but stood as though still fettered, in order not to
attract the attention of the crew till he had decided what to do.
All at once everybody on board the dirigible was startled by the sound
of guns in the distance, and next moment the sky was illuminated by
searchlights which swept the horizon like tremendous phosphorescent
antennæ.
Mike had given the alarm!
Several minutes elapsed before the searchlights found the airship and
focused themselves upon it, and then everything on board was illuminated
by the dazzling rays. A few seconds later the sound of firing increased,
and Lawless guessed that a battery of howitzers was being trained on the
dirigible. But as yet the distance was too great for the gunners to get
the range, and he knew that, even when they did so, the guns fired at
too low an angle to hit an object so high above them.
Thanks to the brilliant illumination of the searchlights, he was able to
see everything as though it were broad daylight, and, among other
things, he noticed hand grenades placed at various points around the
car. They were evidently provided for dropping on small objects or
groups of men, where the use of a bomb would be unnecessary and
wasteful. In a flash he had determined what to do.
The dirigible was now within a mile of the Forth Bridge and about five
hundred feet in the air. If the present speed were maintained, it would
be directly over the bridge in less than five minutes. The howitzers had
by now been supplemented by small groups of sharpshooters, but with the
exception of a few stray bullets which occasionally whistled past the
small-arm fire was likely to do as little damage as the heavier guns.
It was clear that, unless some unforeseen accident occurred, the airship
would accomplish her purpose.
As they drew nearer a fresh burst of firing, this time from the bridge
itself, showed that two guns had been dragged on to the railway track to
command a better range of the approaching airship. But this attempt,
like the rest, was in vain, for the shells flew harmlessly below the
car, and, even had they been able to reach it, an ascent of fifty feet
or so more would have placed the dirigible but of danger again. Only an
anti-aircraft gun, firing at right angles to its base, could hit the
terrible war machine above.
All this time Lawless was waiting for his opportunity--and at last it
came. Springing forward, he seized one of the hand grenades and flung it
with all his strength at the gas-bag above his head, hoping that it
would explode and ignite the gas. Unfortunately, it struck a girder
below the balloon, but in doing so ignited some of the cordage, which,
being creosoted, began to burn furiously.
The commander, realising the danger--for the cordage passed over the gas
envelope and must soon ignite it--gave some orders, and while several of
the crew climbed up in order to try and put out the burning ropes others
rushed upon Lawless.
The latter, however, had managed to seize another grenade, and, holding
it high above his head, threatened to hurl it amongst them if they
advanced another step. While they stood hesitating, and the commander
himself seemed uncertain what to do, there came a wild cry from the men
who had climbed into the airship's rigging.
Looking up, the Lieutenant saw that, in spite of all efforts, the ropes
were still burning. In a few seconds the fire must spread to the
balloon, and that meant annihilation.
The commander sprang to a lever, pulled it, and next moment the
dirigible began to descend. He had opened the gas valve in the wild hope
that the airship might sink to the water safely before the threatened
explosion took place. It was their one chance of escape from a terrible
death.
Slowly, very slowly, the monster dirigible descended. Everybody had
forgotten Lawless in the horror of the threatened calamity, and all eyes
were turned towards the smouldering cords, which occasionally burst into
flame in the upward rush of wind caused by the airship's descent.
Would they reach the water before the explosion took place? That was the
question each man asked himself.
Cork life-belts were hurriedly served out to the crew, who stood by the
rails of the car ready to spring out as soon as the distance rendered
it moderately safe. Yet all the time the little wisps of flame rose
faster and faster, sometimes disappearing, only to be fanned into life
again by the draught of air. Masses of charred and smouldering rope fell
on the deck from time to time and were promptly flung overboard.
Nearer and nearer to the water sank the airship, and nearer and nearer
to the gas holder reached the flames. Now they were not more than a
hundred feet above the water; a few more moments would decide their
fate. It was a race between the sinking dirigible and the flames, the
odds in favour of the flames.
The firing had ceased for some minutes, for all who saw the airship knew
that she was going to her own destruction. Boats approached in readiness
to rescue the survivors should there be any, but stood off again when it
was seen that a tremendous explosion was imminent.
For some seconds Lawless had been watching a small piece of burning
cordage nearer to the gas envelope than the rest, and which, apparently,
had not been noticed by the crew. Suddenly it flamed up, and he saw it
ignite the fabric of the balloon. With a cry of warning he sprang
overboard, but even as he did so there was a blinding flash of light, a
terrific explosion, and then--darkness.
* * * * *
When Lawless again opened his eyes it was to find himself on a little
bed in what appeared to be a hospital ward. His head, he discovered, was
bandaged, and when he attempted to raise himself such an agonising pain
shot through his left leg that he fell back gasping.
When he looked up again a nurse was bending over him with a cup in her
hand.
"Where am I?" he asked in a dazed voice.
"In hospital," replied the nurse gently. "Drink this," she added,
holding the cup to his lips.
The Lieutenant obeyed, though he was all anxiety to hear what had been
the ultimate fate of the Zeppelin. When the nurse had withdrawn the cup
from his lips he begged her to tell him what had happened.
"The papers say it exploded about fifty feet above the water and that
everyone on board except yourself was killed," she answered.
He was left to himself for a little while after that, and then the
surgeon came to dress his injuries, which consisted of a broken leg and
some burns due to the explosion. Shortly afterwards he received a visit
from his commanding officer. The latter was in great fettle at the
honour and glory which the heroic action of Lawless had earned for the
Montrose corps. If he remembered the interview of the previous day, when
he had pooh-poohed the Lieutenant's arguments, he made no reference to
it. He was not a man to bear malice.
After he had heard the story of the extraordinary battle in mid-air he
rose to go.
"By the way," he said, "you'll be pleased to hear that you have been
recommended for the V.C. And, by Jove, I'll say this, you've earned it!"
But it was reserved for Mike Cassidy to bring to the invalid a newspaper
containing the official notice that the Victoria Cross had actually been
conferred upon Flight-Lieutenant Lawless.
"'Tis meself that's afther wishing ye miny happy returns av the day,
sorr," he said.