SAVED BY SEAPLANES.
The boy pilots completed their many hours of trying vigil at the wheels
of the largest aeroplane ever built by guiding the immense craft to
housing place on the shore, and in the first night period of relaxation
were drowsily dead to the world.
"We'll be twisting the heads off one another if we lie this close,"
jollied Billy, when his chum and himself rolled into blankets on the
verge of dreamland, "for I'm still bow-legged in the arms from holding
those spokes, and the motion won't leave me."
This humor was lost on Henri, for he had gone over the border, and no
return until next sunrise.
No need to awaken the youngsters from the eight hours of slumber due
them, for the morning will do well enough for an interesting discovery
coming their way.
Anticipating this awakening and a grand surprise, however, it may be
stated that among the operators of the war-planes identified with the
superdreadnaught "Warspite," then lying off Tenedos island, were a
couple of airmen of some renown along the coast of the North Sea. They
answered to the names of the Leonidas Johnson, with complimentary title
of captain, and Josiah Freeman, one time of Boston, U. S. A.
Then, again, in the British submarine E-14, even then returning from a
reconnoissance in the Dardanelles mine field, there was a sailor lad
from Dover, Jimmy Stetson, surely remembered in the live days when our
Young Aeroplane Scouts were campaigning in France and Belgium.
Stirring times in front when these time-tried, powder-burned excitement
seekers get together once more!
Lieutenant Moppa was exhibiting the fine points of the "Sikorsky" to a
group of British naval officers and war-plane experts when Billy and
Henri sauntered in that direction, sound sleep and a good breakfast
having restored them to normal condition.
Something that the Russian said caused a turning of all eyes upon the
approaching lads.
Two of the group opened their mouths as well as their eyes.
"Jumping Jehoshaphat," cried one of the pair, breaking the spell that
bound him, "if it isn't our long-lost flying boys!"
"By the great hornspoon," almost shouted the other, "the dead is alive!"
While all the rest of the party looked on in astonishment, the coming
couple and the waiting two indulged in a veritable war dance,
accompanied by handshaking and shoulder-slapping, until the four were
breathless and compelled to desist.
"I'm not a bit surprised now, sir," declared Captain Johnson, addressing
the Russian officer; "these kids are the candy in that game, born to it,
sir; born to it!"
Lieutenant Moppa, while somewhat puzzled as to the "candy"
qualification, nevertheless appreciated the spirit of the hurrah
indorsement.
"Set up a sky contest, sir," added Freeman, "and they wouldn't have
space on their clothes for all the medals they would capture."
"Oh, you fellows dry up," laughed Billy, "or you will get us arrested
for false pretense. My first duty is to Henri; he must be kept out of
jail at all hazards."
Henri was about to retort in kind when he received a slap on the back
that startled the idea out of his mind.
"Jimmy!"
Billy and Henri spoke in one breath, and the onlookers were amused by
another animated walk-around.
Then the insistent call of duty broke in upon the reunion. Johnson and
Freeman climbed into a war-plane for the morning reconnoitering flight
over the straits, and the submarine upon which Jimmy served put out to
sea on mission unknown.
Our boys looked to Lieutenant Moppa for some stirring order that would
put them again in action, but that officer made no sign that would
indicate immediate movement of the big airship. The surmise was that the
mighty craft would be held in reserve for the allies' next concentrated
effort to force the Dardanelles.
It occurred to Billy and Henri that they could obtain permission to
serve with Johnson and Freeman in the war-planes in case of
emergency--and to their eminent satisfaction such leave was granted, for
aviators were in constant demand. The heavily mined waters made close
scouting in surface boats an exceedingly precarious proposition, and
inside the straits the fort guns speedily put anything but a submarine
out of business. Even the underwater craft had short shrift when
exposed.
A day passed with no call for the services of the young pilots, but when
the summons did come it was in a hurry-up manner, and involved a venture
perilous to the extreme.
Submarine E-14 was aground on Kephez point!
The submarine boat had started from Tenedos island at midnight, entered
the Dardanelles at 2:20 in the morning and dived at 2:30 to avoid the
searchlights. Carried forward by the strong current it grounded four
hours later, with the conning tower showing out of the water.
Picket boats reported at Tenedos that the stranded submarine was under
fire from the Turkish batteries, and that there was little or no chance
of the crew escaping annihilation.
Captain Johnson, engaged in conversation at the time with Billy and
Henri, upon hearing the direful news, cried out:
"That's Jimmy Stetson's boat!"
"Can't we do anything?" was Billy's frantic query.
"We can volunteer to make a try," replied the captain, as he raced to
the water front, closely followed by the excited boys.
Freeman was standing near the seaplane station when the runners arrived.
Captain Johnson reeled off the story of the submarine mishap with
telegraph speed.
"I'm in it every minute," stoutly declared Josh, when advised of the
rescue movement.
The volunteers instantly received the orders they sought, and with equal
celerity set out on a mission that literally meant flying in the face of
death.
They rode in two seaplanes that many times before had weathered storms
of shot and shell.
Captain Johnson, himself, veteran of the air, acted as pilot in the
lead, for he knew the direct route to the scene of the submarine
disaster, and with Henri at the motor end. Billy guided the escort
machine, with Josh behind him.
The seaplanes, of the very largest type, had capacity to carry, in a
short run, at least a dozen of the submarine crew, if, indeed, that many
had survived the pitiless fire to which they had for nearly an hour been
exposed, and which fusillading had crippled the electric power appliance
of the underwater craft.
Sweeping around the point, the shattered submarine was located by
upstanding bridge and periscope, but the crew had been obliged to leave
the boat and crawl out into the mud which held the bow aground.
Through an atmosphere dense with powder smoke, the seaplanes sped like
bolts, and then striking the water with a force that tossed spray in
every direction.
The submarine captain and three of the crew had been killed, and of
those still alive seven were wounded. To cover the movement of the
seaplanes, the "Warspite" and other British warships kept a rain of
shells falling in the vicinity of the Turkish battery.
When the seaplanes lifted from the water, the wounded members of the
submarine crew were crowded inside, and others clung to the rigging. The
powerful motors responded wonderfully to the test.
Reaching the turn of the point without being brought down by the parting
shots from the Turkish battery, the overloaded aircraft soon settled in
the shelter of the warships outside the entrance of the straits.
"Glory be!"
Billy's high note of rejoicing had been sounded.
And there was Jimmy Stetson, without a mark, astride the bow of the
seaplane!
Other aviators in lighter machines now hovered over the submarine,
dropping bombs on the works above water, with the purpose of rendering
the lost vessel absolutely useless to the Turks.
"That was a scary come-through, all right," said Jimmy to Billy, when
once within the safety line. "I saw my finish out on that mud pile, and
I guess I didn't care much after Captain Gardiner fell dead on the
bridge. But somehow, when I saw those seaplanes swooping down, and
glimpsed Captain Johnson, I took a fresh hold on hope. And, lo and
behold, when I splashed out to the planes who should be sitting in there
as large as life but you and Henri. It was the spirit again of the brave
old days."
"We surely have had some close calls together, come to think of it,"
recalled Billy.
"Well, now that the good boat, E-14, has gone by the board, I am out of
a job," sighed Jimmy; "I knew that craft like a book, and no better
diver than she is in the service."
"Brace up, Master James," was Billy's word of cheer, accompanied by a
slap between the shoulders of the Dover boy.
Jimmy, it proved, had no reason to complain of enforced leisure; indeed,
the only change in his line of duty was that by boat register he moved
ahead a couple of numbers, hereafter to travel in E-16--and this
underwater craft happened to be the very one detailed to attempt the
difficult and hazardous task of cutting a submarine cable.
Billy and Henri were to have a share in this same risky enterprise, but
without knowledge in advance of what was coming to them.