The Turkish Biplane
A WEEK passed. Although the _Portchester Castle_ was far from being
inactive, the result of almost continuous patrol work amongst the
islands of the AEgean Sea produced nothing in the nature of the
capture or destruction of a hostile craft. There had been numerous
false alarms; suspicious vessels had been chased, overhauled and
boarded, only to find that their papers were in thorough order and
their cargoes of a non-contraband nature; wild-goose expeditions had
been carried out in search of imaginary petrol depots--all of which
were most disappointing. The only redeeming feature of the business
was that the presence of a strong fleet of patrolling craft tended to
curtail the enemy's activities. The mere knowledge that the
approaches to the Dardanelles were closely watched, acted as a
deterrent both to the Turkish torpedo craft and the German submarines
that had been sent hither, in a vain attempt to drive the Allied
fleets from the open water of the Mediterranean and to stifle the
merchant shipping of that inland sea.
Before the expiration of those seven days Sub-lieutenant Tom Webb was
reported fit for duty. Thanks to clean living and a robust
constitution, he made rapid progress under the skilful care of the
ship's doctor. His regret for Osborne's loss was almost equal to that
of Laddie's master.
The latter was badly hit by the catastrophe. Although he gave little
outward sign of his grief, he felt the loss of his pet acutely.
"He may turn up again, old man," said Webb consolingly. "Just as
likely as not he was left on board the torpedo-boat. If so, the
destroyer's people will look after him until we get in touch with
her."
"I wish I could share your opinion, Tom," replied Osborne. "But I
can't see how that could possibly happen. Laddie wouldn't remain on
board when I left. No, I'm afraid he's gone for good; and it's the
horrible uncertainty of his fate that makes matters worse."
Captain M'Bride, too, was profuse in his sympathy.
"Of course, Osborne," he remarked, "I can't very well send out a
general wireless asking if one of our destroyers has picked up a dog.
I'd possibly get rapped over the knuckles by the Admiral for my
pains. But I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll write a private letter to
a chum of mine at Lemnos--he's the skipper of the _Tarbox_--and ask
him to institute enquiries. I'm rather inclined to favour Mr. Webb's
theory, you know."
"Thanks, sir," replied Osborne. "It would be----"
"Aeroplane on our port quarter, sir," shouted one of the look-out
men.
The three officers hastened to the bridge, where the officer of the
watch had already brought his telescope to bear upon the approaching
air-craft.
"A Johnny Turk, sir," reported the watchkeeper. "There are crescents
on her planes."
A bugle blared "Action Stations". The two anti-aircraft guns were
manned, while the quick-firers were trained to their extreme
elevation in the hope that the oncoming aerial foe would still be a
sufficient distance from the ship to enable the weapons to be brought
to bear upon the swiftly-moving target.
Already it was too late for the ordinary quick-firers to be of
service. The "anti's" alone had to be employed to fire at the Turkish
aeroplane. Should the latter elect to rise to a great altitude the
comparatively feeble weapons would be of little use. On the other
hand, the higher the aeroplane rose the greater difficulty there
would be of hitting a moving target like the _Portchester Castle_.
The two guns spoke almost simultaneously. By the aid of the
"tracers", thin wisps of smoke from the soaring projectiles, it was
quite easy to follow the flight of the shrapnel shells. Both burst
seemingly close to the enemy air-craft. The observers in the armed
merchant-cruiser could see the delicate smoke-wreaths from the
detonating projectile being riven by the rush of air from the
swiftly-moving machine. For a few seconds the aeroplane appeared to
falter; then steadying herself, continued her flight undamaged.
Ten seconds later a bomb crashed into the sea, exploding with a
terrific detonation within fifty yards of the _Portchester Castle's_
starboard quarter. It was near enough to send a shower of spray
completely over the ship's poop, while fragments of metal rattled
against her steel sides.
Again a shrapnel shell burst overhead, but so far from the target
that Osborne involuntarily exclaimed, "Rotten shot"; but, the instant
after, "anti No. 2" succeeded in making the aeroplane side-slip for
nearly a hundred feet before it recovered and circled in order to
regain a favourable position for dropping more explosives.
Instinctively Tom Webb edged nearer the chart-house, but only for a
moment. Captain M'Bride and Lieutenant Osborne were standing rigid
and apparently unconscious of the danger. Their example, coupled with
the fact that if the bomb did hit the bridge there would not be
sufficient fragments of the chart-house to fill a pint measure,
steadied the Sub's nerves. Many a time he had been in danger of being
blown sky-high by mine or torpedo. He had grown used to such perils;
but the unprecedented possibility of being pulverized by an enemy
that could be seen had been responsible for his unpremeditated effort
to gain a useless shelter.
Meanwhile the _Portchester Castle_, having been given the fullest use
of the helm, was swinging to port. As she did so, the second bomb
fell where her bows would have been had she held on her course.
"That was a near one, Osborne," remarked Captain M'Bride calmly, as
he wiped the spray from his eyes, for the cascade of foam had fallen
inboard, some of it flying over the elevated bridge. "This chap is a
sticker for business. See, he's making another circle."
At that moment a man rushed up from below, and, leaping over the
stanchion-rails, disappeared beneath the waves. Osborne and Webb
hastened to the end of the bridge, but the suicide never appeared
again.
It was the Greek, who had been detained on board pending his trial
for treachery in connection with the thwarted attempt upon the
non-existent petrol depot of Akhissareli. According to custom, all
prisoners are released from cells when the vessel goes into action;
and, profiting by this circumstance, the Greek, terrified by the
crash of the guns and the explosion of the bombs, had escaped
execution by order of a court-martial by choosing a voluntary death.
"He's cheated the hangman," remarked Osborne. "But what's the next
move?"
The officers' attention was again directed towards the hostile
air-craft. The biplane had swung round, in order to make yet another
attempt to bomb the war-ship.
The Turkish airman was not lacking in daring. Reckless of the
_Portchester Castle's_ anti-aircraft guns, he volplaned from a height
of three thousand feet until he had descended to less than two
hundred and fifty feet from his target.
In so doing he unconsciously swung to leeward, and got within the
maximum elevation of the 4.7-inchers. One of the gun-layers saw his
chance and took it. With a shrill screech the projectile sped from
the inclined muzzle of the powerful weapon. It was a splendid shot,
but hardly good enough, for, without exploding, the shell passed
completely through the right-hand planes.
Again the biplane lurched heavily, and side-slipped to within a
hundred feet of the sea. Then, with superb skill, the airman righted
the damaged machine. He had had enough. It was now his endeavour to
save himself by flight if possible.
"Cease fire!" ordered Captain M'Bride in stentorian tones. "She's
done for."
Lower and lower sank the crippled aeroplane, despite the efforts of
the pilot to keep her clear of the surface of the water. With a
strange spiral-like motion the biplane carried on for nearly a mile,
then with a tremendous splash struck the water, reared her tail
twenty feet in the air, and promptly disappeared from sight.
"There he is, sir; there's the pilot!" shouted a score of voices, as
the head and shoulders of the airman were to be discerned bobbing up
and down on the waves.
"And he's still alive," added Webb, still keeping his telescope
bearing upon the scene of the biplane's dive.
"Away sea-boat!" ordered the skipper, at the same time telegraphing
for "Half-speed astern".
There was a rush to man the boat. The jack-tars, who a few moments
previously were in danger of being blown to atoms, were now eager to
show their appreciation of a brave foe by doing their level best to
save his life. Although Johnny Turk had, on several occasions, made
things pretty hot for the Allies, the British seamen and soldiers,
unanimously regarding him as a clean fighter and far superior in
chivalry to the Hun, were quick to recognize his good qualities.
Before way was off the ship the sea-boat, commanded by Dicky Haynes,
had been disengaged from the falls, and was pulling strongly in the
direction of the airman, who, although unable to swim, was being
supported by an inflated air life-belt.
Speedily the Turk was lifted into the boat. For a few moments he felt
a trifle uncertain of the manner of his reception, but he was quickly
put at his ease by the young Sub, who, finding that the airman spoke
French, was able to maintain a simple conversation.
"You are a prisoner of war, sir," said Captain M'Bride, through
Haynes's interpretation, when the airman was brought on board the
_Portchester Castle_. "We are quite agreeable to letting you have
plenty of liberty, providing you give us your parole. You will be
well treated, and, subject to certain restrictions, allowed freedom
of movement. If, on the other hand, you are discovered engaging upon
any action likely to prejudice the safety of the ship, then the
penalty will be death."
The airman, who announced himself as Afir-al-Bahr, Flight-lieutenant
of the Ottoman Navy, showed unmistakable signs of sincere gratitude
for his rescue and generous treatment. He swore by Mohammed and his
father's beard--the most binding oath that a Mussulman can take--to
abide faithfully by the terms under which his parole was granted.
Later on in the day he became quite communicative. He admitted that
his heart was not in his work. He was one of the educated class of
Turks who realized, perhaps too late, that Germany had selfish
ulterior motives in her profuse expressions of friendship for her
near Eastern ally. He was sensible of the friendliness of Great
Britain towards the Ottoman Empire in times past, and regretted the
turn of events that had compelled the Porte to throw in its lot with
the Hun.
"But since we are enemies," he added, "we must fight bravely until
Allah wills that Ottoman and Englishman shall again sheathe the
sword."
"Quite a decent sort," declared Webb to his chum Osborne later in the
afternoon. "Did you notice how tactfully he evaded a chance question
on the part of the skipper? He couldn't have given a direct answer
without betraying some of the Turkish war plans. By Jove! what a
contrast to those Hun officers we had on board the old _Zealous_.
Comparisons may be odious, but a German is a jolly sight more
odious."
"Seen this, you fellows?" asked the junior watch-keeper, holding out
a slip of paper. "Something doing this trip, I fancy."
It was a decoded wireless message, brief and to the point.
"Mail-boat _Sunderbund_ reported torpedoed, latitude 34° 15' 20" N.,
long. 22° 4' 16" E. Passengers and crew taken to boats, supposed
making for Alexandria. _Portchester Castle_ to proceed and
investigate to eastward of position; _Restormel_ to westward.
Immediate."