THE DERELICT
The destruction of the Zeppelin, apart from the dramatic circumstances
attendant upon it, naturally created a great sensation, particularly in
Scotland, it being the first enemy airship ever brought down north of
the Tweed. Lawless was, of course, the hero of the moment, and the
illustrated papers overflowed with photographs of him taken before and
after the great air duel: in hospital, convalescent, eating, drinking,
sleeping, in uniform and out of uniform. Hitherto forgotten episodes in
his naval career were raked up and presented to an eagerly absorbent
public, which refused to read, discuss or hear about anything but
Flight-Lieutenant Lawless and his combat with the Zeppelin. He was the
most talked of man in the world for nearly a week.
"It's simply been beastly sickening," remarked Lawless. "I'm fed up."
His old ship, the _Knat_, had put into Leith, and Sub-Lieutenant Trent
had seized the opportunity to visit his old commander in the hospital.
"You see," went on the latter almost apologetically, "I was practically
defenceless against all those newspaper chaps with their note-books and
cameras; I was surrounded and outnumbered. It's true I flung a pot of
beef tea at one interviewer's head and made good practice with some
medicine bottles among the photographers, but, though the enemy suffered
several casualties, reinforcements were continually arriving."
Trent nodded sympathetically.
"'Tisn't as if they were good photographs either," he remarked. "They
are absolutely like you."
Lawless shot a suspicious glance at his one-time subordinate.
"One chap," he said thoughtfully, "snapped me before I'd shaved. I'm
going to drop a bomb on his office as soon as I get back to work."
As it turned out, honour and glory were not the only results the
Lieutenant achieved by bringing down the Zeppelin; he unwittingly
incurred a tremendous responsibility. News of this was broken to him by
his uncle, a retired major, with whom he spent the last few days of his
convalescence. Animated by a delicacy which his nephew fully understood
and appreciated, the major for a time refrained from discussing the
Zeppelin affair. But on the day before Lawless was due to report himself
at headquarters he somewhat diffidently broached the subject.
"By the way," he said, as though it were a matter which had hitherto
escaped his memory, "I wanted to speak about that last little adventure
of yours."
"Yes?" remarked the Lieutenant unencouragingly.
"It's likely to cost me a thousand pounds."
"Eh!" ejaculated Lawless, sitting up.
"It's my own fault," continued the major gloomily, "but I was, so to
speak, rushed into it. You see, the day after you'd brought down that
'Zep.' I strolled into the club smoking-room and found everyone talking
of your exploit. I kept out of it as long as I could, naturally, but
when Sir John Carver started in to declare that it was nothing more than
an accident, a mere stroke of luck, I got angry. Sir John, though he's
as rich as Croesus, knows no more about aviation than I do about
soap-boiling, which, I believe, was his profession at one time. So I
took up the challenge, and for a time we argued the matter up and down.
"He couldn't refute my professional knowledge, of course; so at last,
finding he was getting the worst of it, he stuck his thumbs in the
armholes of his waistcoat in that detestable manner of his and said,
'I'll bet you a thousand pounds that your nephew doesn't bring down
another Zeppelin within a year.' On the impulse of the moment I, like a
fool, said 'Done!' and the bet was clinched there and then."
The major stopped, and there was a long and constrained pause.
"Well, uncle," said Lawless presently, "you certainly were a mug."
"It was all due," answered the major, "to arguing with a man who is not
a gentleman."
They both relapsed into silence again. The major was not exactly a poor
man, but a thousand pounds, especially in wartime, is--well, a thousand
pounds, and the old gentleman, as Lawless was well aware, could not
afford to lose such a sum.
"So," remarked the Lieutenant after a while, "it's up to me to see that
you don't lose that thou., uncle?"
"I don't say that, my boy, but if you could--er--manage to bring down a
Zeppelin within the year it would be--er--a great convenience to me."
Lawless, in spite of the serious responsibility which had been thrust
upon him, laughed.
"I hope this'll be a warning to you against an over-indulgence in family
pride," he said.
"It was all my own fault, of course," answered the major sadly. "But
remember," he added, brightening up, "the thousand pounds is yours if
you get that airship. I wouldn't touch a penny of Sir John's money."
"I'm not so fastidious, uncle. So, if I do bring down a 'Zep'--which
isn't at all likely, I'm afraid--I'll have much pleasure in taking
charge of the cash."
In due course Lawless reported himself at headquarters, confident that
now he would at once be sent to the Front. In this, however, he was
again doomed to disappointment; for, much to his chagrin, he was sent
with his mechanic to test a new type of seaplane off the Irish coast.
"I've a good mind to chuck the Service altogether," he growled at the
thought of that thousand pounds becoming more visionary than ever.
Certainly there was not much chance of encountering a Zeppelin off the
coast of Munster, which was where the tests were to take place.
It was a warm, misty dawn and the moisture-laden atmosphere was like
that of a damp hothouse when Lawless arrived to start the trials. These
occupied the whole morning, and at noon the Lieutenant decided on a
"stand-easy" so that Cassidy might partake of the lunch he had brought
with him. The Lieutenant had intended to share the repast, but that last
volplane had been too much for him, and he had succumbed to his new
enemy--air-sickness.
While Cassidy, whose stomach was as strong as a ship's boiler, consumed
his lunch Lawless pondered over his very problematical chance of ever
bringing down another Zeppelin. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted
by the flickering of the needle attached to the wireless apparatus.
Bending over the instrument, he realised that it was recording an urgent
message for help for some vessel in distress.
"S--S--S--S. Steamer _Nimrod_ attacked by submarine," he read. Then
followed the latitude and longitude of the ship's position, ending up
with emergency call "S--S--S."
"Great Scot!" ejaculated the Lieutenant.
"Did ye speak, sorr?" asked Cassidy, with his mouth full of bread and
cheese.
"Finish your grub, Mike; we've got a long flight in front of us,"
answered Lawless.
He had made up his mind to go to the assistance of the distressed
vessel. At a rough calculation she was about fifty or sixty miles away
in a south-westerly direction, and, as the seaplane had a speed of a
hundred miles an hour under favourable conditions, the Lieutenant hoped
to reach her in a little over half an hour. A glance at the petrol
gauges showed that the supply was running low and that there was only
enough left to carry the machine seventy or eighty miles, which would
mean about twenty miles short of the return journey. But Lawless, with
his usual disregard for consequences, decided to deal with that problem
when it arose, nor did he stop to ask himself what practical assistance
he could render the _Nimrod_ when he arrived.
Shouting some instructions to Cassidy, he started the engines. The great
propeller began to revolve, and the seaplane, after skimming along the
surface of the water for fifty yards or so, rose gracefully in the air.
The conditions, apart from the haze, were excellent for flying, and,
after a flight of twenty-five minutes, Lawless made out what looked like
a cloud of black smoke rising vertically above the mist. A few moments
afterwards he could see the hull of a large steamer with a heavy list to
starboard and so low down at the bows that her propellers were raised
above the water. The Lieutenant at once volplaned to the surface, hoping
that he might catch sight of some of the ship's boats, which, no doubt,
had been launched as soon as the vessel was struck by the torpedo. But
the low-lying mist, much thicker here than near the coast, prevented his
seeing anything outside a very narrow radius.
The derelict was on fire aft, and, judging by the boatless derricks and
loosely hanging falls, all the boats had got safely away. But, in spite
of the deserted appearance of the ship, Lawless determined to board her
and make a hasty search in case some sick or helpless person had been
overlooked at the last moment--such things had occurred before to his
knowledge. A few turns of the seaplane's propeller brought her
alongside, and, catching hold of one of the falls, he hauled himself on
to the port taffrail.
"Mike," he shouted back to his mechanic, "stand by till I return. This
packet isn't going to keep afloat much longer."
"And what'll yer honour be doing aboard that floatin' coffin, begging
yer pardon, sorr?" asked Cassidy.
"I'm going to make sure that nobody's left aboard."
"Then if yer going into that smouldering hell, it's meself that's coming
wid ye, sorr," said the Irishman, in defiance of all the rules of
discipline.
"All right, come on then," answered Lawless, thinking the man might
possibly be of some assistance.
The mechanic made the seaplane fast to one of the falls and then joined
the Lieutenant. Owing to the angle at which the vessel had canted over,
it was difficult to maintain an upright position on the deck, and so
they slid, rather than walked, towards the main staircase. Descending
this, they reached a vestibule, giving access to a magnificent saloon
and also to a couple of long, narrow alleyways upon which the cabins
opened. These alleyways, extending aft from amidships, were separated
by the engine-room bulkheads, so that between them there was a large
shaft which served to ventilate the engine-room by means of the top
grating.
"Cassidy, you look in the cabins on the port side and I'll take those on
the starboard," said the Lieutenant.
They separated, and Lawless proceeded along the starboard alleyway,
glancing into each cabin to make sure that it was unoccupied. Everywhere
there were signs of hurry and disorder, showing that the passengers had
only had sufficient time to collect a few necessary articles before
taking to the boats. All the starboard cabins proved to be empty, and,
having reached the end of the alleyway, the Lieutenant crossed to the
other side, where he expected to meet Cassidy. The latter was nowhere to
be seen, however, and it was not till Lawless had made his presence
known by a shout that he heard the mechanic's voice.
"Mr. Lawless, sorr, come quick! I've----"
The rest was drowned in a deafening crash, and the Lieutenant stepped
back only just in time to escape being buried beneath tons of burning
wreckage which had suddenly descended into the alleyway, followed by one
of the huge iron girders that supported the deck above. He was thus cut
off by a wall of blazing _débris_ unless the starboard alleyway,
through which he had just passed, was still open. Realising that there
was not a moment to be lost, he dashed back, only to find his way barred
by a portion of the engine-room bulkhead which had collapsed right
across the passage.
Rushing back to the port alleyway, he was again stopped by the flaming
barrier which lay across it. At first sight it seemed utterly impossible
to get past it, but after a moment Lawless noticed a small, tunnel-like
cavity beneath the wreckage where it was held up by the fallen girder,
one end of which rested on the framework of the deck above. If he could
only crawl through that and right underneath the smouldering furnace he
might succeed in reaching the other side. So, dropping on all fours, he
started to crawl into the opening, well aware that at any moment the
girder might wholly collapse and crush him beneath its weight. If that
happened he would be either mercifully killed outright or else pinned
down and slowly roasted to death.
Almost suffocated by the smoke, he succeeded in forcing his way through
and at last emerged safely on the other side. For a moment or two he was
blinded by the smoke and could see nothing, but as he staggered to his
feet a hand clutched his arm.
"Be the powers, 'tis yerself, sorr, the saints be praised!" cried the
voice of Cassidy. "Are ye hurt, now?"
"No, no; but have you found anyone?"
"Shure I have that. There's a poor divil pinned down in his bunk yonder,
and, though I've thried wid all me moight, I can't raise him."
"Then I'll lend you a hand, Mike. There's no time to lose, for this
packet's settling fast," replied Lawless.
Cassidy led the way into one of the cabins, where a man lay in the lower
berth, held down by the upper one, which had collapsed and fallen upon
him. He was unconscious, evidently having been stunned by the falling
mass. Between them they managed to remove enough of the wreckage to
admit of his being dragged out of the berth. As they carried him from
the cabin there came a thunderous crash, and Lawless saw the end of the
great girder under which he had crawled give way and bring down with it
the burning mass it had supported. Now, both fore and aft, they were
imprisoned by a wall of flaming wreckage that made escape seem hopeless.
"'Tis the end av us, sorr," groaned Cassidy.
They laid their unconscious burden down in the alleyway, and while the
mechanic set up a lugubrious wail Lawless started to rip up the matting
with which the alleyway was covered.
"Here we are!" he exclaimed.
He pointed triumphantly to a circular iron plate let into the deck, and
Cassidy, looking down after Lawless had removed this, beheld a dark
cavity which emitted an odour of stagnant water.
"We can drop into the hold through there," said the Lieutenant, "and
possibly we may reach the for'a'd deck. At any rate, it's our only
chance. I'll go down first, and when you hear me shout lower that fellow
down to me."
He gripped the end of the manhole, lowered himself through it, and then
let go. There was a splash followed by a shout.
"Are ye all roight, sorr?" called Cassidy anxiously.
"Aye, aye, lower away," came the reply from the apparently bottomless
depths.
Cassidy thereupon lowered the unconscious man through the hole, and held
on till he felt the weight removed from his arms. Then he squeezed
through the aperture, and, letting go, found himself nearly waist-deep
in water and in almost utter darkness.
"The divil!" he exclaimed.
"Now you carry this man, and I'll lead the way," said Lawless, and
Cassidy, catching hold of the limp body, slung it across his shoulder
like a sack.
The Lieutenant slowly felt his way through the darkness towards the bows
of the ship, guided only by the downward slope, for he could not see an
inch in front of him. As they advanced the water became deeper, and he
began to fear that it would cut off their retreat as effectively as had
the fire.
"Damn!" he ejaculated abruptly. "It's all right," he added to Cassidy,
who was close behind. "I bumped against an iron ladder. There must be a
hatchway of some sort at the top; so you'd better wait here till I find
it."
He ascended the ladder till he could go no farther, and then, after some
trouble, managed to force open a small hatch. Climbing through, he found
himself on the for'a'd well-deck and drew a deep breath of pure air
which came as a life-giving tonic after the foul atmosphere from which
he had emerged.
"Wait a moment," he shouted back. "I'll lower a rope for you to fasten
round that chap's body. We can get him up quicker that way."
There was plenty of loose tackle strewn about the deck, and, selecting a
piece, he made a running noose at the end and then lowered it through
the hatch.
"All ready," came Cassidy's voice a moment later. "If ye'll just hold on
for a minute, sorr, I'll come up and help haul."
In a few seconds the Irishman's head appeared above the hatch, and,
stepping on to the deck, he helped Lawless haul the man up.
"Now fetch the machine for'a'd, Mike, while I try and bring this chap to
his senses," said the Lieutenant.
Cassidy promptly climbed on to the taffrail and made his way amidships
to the spot where the seaplane had been made fast. Meanwhile Lawless did
his best to revive the unconscious man by splashing sea-water over him
and trying artificial respiration. In a few moments the passenger
uttered a faint moan and opened his eyes.
"Feeling better?" asked the Lieutenant cheerily.
The other stared at him with lack-lustre eyes and made no answer.
"You must try and get on your pins," said Lawless encouragingly. "Come
on, now, I'll help you."
The man seemed to make a feeble attempt to use his limbs, and with a
great effort Lawless managed to prop him against the taffrail. By this
time Cassidy had brought up the seaplane, and together they succeeded in
transferring their charge to it and placing him in the rear seat. This
done, they cast off from the derelict and the Lieutenant started the
engines. As he did so he gave a backward glance at the ship.
"She's going!" he cried, and as the seaplane started to rise there came
a roar from behind, and the _Nimrod_, parting amidships, disappeared
beneath the waves in a dense cloud of smoke and steam.
"That is the narrowest squeak I've ever had," he murmured.
He glanced at the petrol gauges, and saw that the tanks were nearly
empty. There might be enough left to carry them another ten miles, but
certainly not more. And, sure enough, in a few minutes the engines began
to slow down, and there was nothing for it but to volplane to the
surface. Their sole chance of rescue now lay in being picked up by some
passing steamer, for, though the wireless apparatus could receive
messages, there was no power to transmit them.
"Keep a bright look-out, Mike," said Lawless. "The sooner we're picked
up the better, for I sniff bad weather coming."
By now the fog had almost disappeared before a freshening sou'-westerly
wind, and the sea, so smooth and oily a short while ago, was now whipped
into choppy, foam-crested waves.
It was not long before the Lieutenant's prophecy of coming bad weather
began to be fulfilled. Afternoon had now given place to evening, and a
hazy moon, frequently obscured by black, threatening clouds, hung in the
sky. Before darkness had quite set in they were in the midst of a gale
which became more and more violent every minute.
Then commenced a wild struggle, a fight against the devastating seas.
The frail machine was tossed from crest to crest of each on-coming wave
or else buried in the trough of the sea, whose towering walls of livid
green water on every side threatened to crush it to atoms. Yet its very
flimsiness helped to keep it afloat, for, having no hull or other
substantial surface, it offered little or no resistance to the force of
the waves. As a cork will float on the most terrific sea when a boat
would be dashed to pieces, so the light seaplane, held together by its
steel wires and guys, successfully resisted the onslaught of the
Atlantic billows.
But the plight of its occupants was terrible. Lashed to the yielding
structure by cords, they were alternately flung violently upwards and
then cast down to be swamped, choked and half-stunned by the falling
mountains of water. As for the rescued man, who had also been lashed to
the machine, it was impossible to tell whether he was dead or alive, and
to Lawless, who expected every moment to be their last, it didn't seem
to matter much either way.
So the night passed and dawn--cold, cheerless and desolate--began to
break at last upon that wild waste of storm-tossed waters; a running sea
of dull, greenish-grey with great ridges of seething foam rushing upon
one another in serried ranks like the battalions of a devouring army.
And amidst that roaring, pitiless flood there floated the battered wreck
of the seaplane. Both Lawless and Cassidy, as well as their passenger,
were unconscious, and, but for the fact that they were lashed to the
machine, would have been swallowed up in the boiling seas long ago.
In this condition they were seen and picked up by the gunboat _Panther_,
which had been sent out to search for the survivors of the _Nimrod_. All
three were still unconscious when, after great difficulty owing to the
heavy seas, they were conveyed on board the warship.
When Lawless at last opened his eyes he found himself lying in an
unfamiliar cabin, and it was some minutes before he realised what must
have happened. He was struggling to recall the terrible events preceding
his lapse into unconsciousness, when the cabin door opened and a young
man in the uniform of a naval surgeon entered.
"Well, how do you feel?" asked the latter, seeing that Lawless was
looking about him.
"Don't quite know," answered the Lieutenant. "I'm still a bit foggy in
my mind."
"I don't wonder at it, judging from what your mechanic has told me. He's
a tough customer and no mistake; came to in less than an hour after you
were all rescued."
"Then how long have I been unconscious?" asked the Lieutenant.
"Ever since you were picked up, and that's nearly four hours ago. We
shall reach Plymouth about midday, I expect."
In due course the _Panther_ arrived at Plymouth, and, just as Lawless
was about to board the steam pinnace that was to take him ashore, the
man he had rescued came up.
"This is the first opportunity I have had, sir, of thanking you," he
said. "You have saved----"
"Oh, never mind about that," interrupted the Lieutenant. "Are you coming
ashore?"
"Yes----" The man hesitated a minute, and went on a little awkwardly.
"The fact is, I'm in rather a hole. All my money and papers went down in
the _Nimrod_, and I haven't a cent to bless myself with. I hate to ask
you such a thing, but if you could lend me a fiver I should be deeply
grateful. Here is my card."
He handed Lawless a visiting card on which was inscribed "John H.
Smythe, Seattle."
"I shall be staying at the Savoy," he added, "and if you'll give me your
address I'll wire you the money. The American Ambassador is a friend of
mine, and will lend me sufficient till I can cable my bank."
The Lieutenant hesitated for a moment, not because he had any reason to
doubt the speaker, but because he was almost penniless himself at the
moment. Still, he could not help feeling sorry for the man in this
unfortunate predicament, and decided to borrow the money from the
captain of the _Panther_.
"Might be in a mess like this myself some day," he reflected, as,
telling Smythe to wait a moment, he hurried away to interview the
skipper.
The latter promptly lent him five pounds, and, as Lawless was about to
leave, called him back.
"By the way, what about that fellow you found on the _Nimrod_?" he said.
"He has no papers and nothing whatever to prove his identity. I have
orders to proceed at once to Portsmouth, or I'd hand him over to the
authorities for them to make investigations."
"I was going to take him ashore myself," answered the Lieutenant.
"Oh, then, that's all right."
The two men shook hands, and Lawless returned to Smythe, who was waiting
for him at the gangway.
"All serene," he said, thrusting five one pound notes into the man's
hand. "Now we'd better get ashore."
They were landed at the Great Western jetty, and Smythe told Lawless he
wanted to catch the first train to London. At Millbay Station they shook
hands and said "Good-bye," after which the Lieutenant went on to
Devonport to report himself.
On the following morning, when he was preparing to depart for Dundee, a
telegram arrived ordering him to proceed to the Admiralty. He reached
London in the afternoon, and duly presented himself at the particular
room mentioned in his instructions. On entering he found a group of
officers seated at a table in a manner unpleasantly reminiscent of a
court-martial.
He was asked for and gave a brief account of his adventures after flying
to the assistance of the _Nimrod_, and then one of the officers handed
him a photograph.
"Do you recognise this person?" he asked.
"Why, yes," replied the Lieutenant. "It's the man named Smythe, whom I
found unconscious in his bunk."
The officers exchanged significant glances, and the one who had produced
the photograph turned once more to the Lieutenant.
"We understand from the Captain of the _Panther_ that the man went
ashore with you at Plymouth," he said.
"Yes, and I lent him a fiver to get to London with. Here's his card,"
and Lawless produced the visiting card which the rescued passenger had
given him.
"You have not heard from him since?" asked the officer, after glancing
at the card.
"No, sir," answered the Lieutenant innocently. "It's quite possible he
hasn't been able to see the Ambassador yet."
"Quite," said the other drily. "This man who gave his name as Smythe is
really Reichster, the notorious German-American spy for whose capture a
reward of £500 has been offered."
There was a long pause. At last Lawless pulled himself together and
realised that life still had to be lived.
"I think, sir, if it could be managed, I should like to transfer back to
the Sea Service," he said. "The Flying Corps is a bit too risky for
me."