The End of the Rioguayan Air Fleet
Grey dawn revealed the battered _Rebound_, still steaming
stern-foremost, within the wide estuary of the Rio Guaya. Four miles
to the west'ard lay her three sister-battleships, with their
attendant light cruisers and destroyers, awaiting daybreak before
pushing on up the broad river as far as they could without violating
the territorial waters of San Valodar and San Benito.
There was a widely expressed hope amongst the officers and crew of
the British fleet, that one of these republics would throw in her
lot with the enemy. That would leave the admiral a comparatively
free hand, since he would no longer be obliged to respect the zone
over which either San Valodar or San Benito claimed jurisdiction. As
things stood, there was a curious anomaly. The Rioguayan fleet had
the right to the free use of the river below Sambrombon Island,
although both passages were controlled by neutral states. Until the
British fleet could contrive to obtain sanction, they were unable to
proceed much farther without causing an international affair which
might call for protests from the Powers.
The British air squadron attached to the fleet was also unable to
approach Rioguayan territory, owing to the republic's possession of
Brian Strong's anti-aircraft rays. On their part the Rioguayan
flying-boats were useless against the British fleet, armed as it was
with the ray-projecting apparatus.
The only course open, apparently, was to blockade Rioguay by sea,
but this promised to be a most unsatisfactory operation. The
republic was practically self-supporting; it could still maintain
trade with the neighbouring republics despite any active
interference on the part of the British navy.
The defeat at sea hardly troubled President Jaime Samuda. It was a
regrettable occurrence, from a national point of view, but he still
hoped for great things from the powerful aerial armada of the
republic. Even if air-power failed, he could still hope that the
ineffectual blockade would be maintained until either the British
got tired of "watching the mouse-hole", or else became involved in
embarrassing complications elsewhere. His own position seemed so
secure that never for one moment did President Jaime Samuda think
seriously upon the possibility of a revolution.
Corbold and Cavendish had completed their "trick", Their reliefs had
taken over and they were on their way below to enjoy a well-earned
sleep.
Just as they were about to enter the battery door, there was a shout
of "periscope one point on the starboard bow!" For the present, the
stern of the ship was considered to be the bows for manoeuvring
purposes, consequently the starboard side became the port and vice
versa.
The two chums ran to the rail and, leaning out, could discern the
object in question at a distance of about two hundred yards from the
ship.
There was no time to be lost. The Captain on the bridge had to
decide quickly. Checking his first impulse to ram the submarine--he
remembered the possibility of having the propeller blades smashed
and the rudder buckled--he bore away a couple of points, at the same
time ordering the Q.F. guns to open fire.
A moment later he countermanded the order, for a destroyer,
observing the pole-like object in the slanting rays of the early
morning sun, starboarded helm and charged straight for the
periscope.
Her youthful lieutenant-commander, in his zeal, had but one
thought--to smash the submarine's hull with the destroyer's
knife-like stem before the former could fire her torpedo at the
increasingly favourable target that the _Rebound_ was momentarily
presenting.
In vain the battleship signalled to her to stand clear and destroy
the periscope by means of gunfire and then finish off the blinded
submarine with depth-charges. All on the destroyer's bridge had eyes
for nothing but the hostile periscope.
The _Rebound_ could do nothing, Already the destroyer was masking
her quick-firers. A warning blast from the syren did attract
attention, but only when it was too late.
The destroyer's bows hit the periscope fairly and squarely. There
was no rending of steel, no release of air and oil from the
submarine, for the simple reason that there was no submarine there.
The periscope was a dummy, but to it were attached two mines by
means of long spans of wire.
Five seconds later, the mines, swung inwards by the strain upon the
spans, exploded simultaneously on either side of the destroyer.
Before the upheaval of smoke and spray had dispersed, the luckless
destroyer had vanished, leaving half a dozen men swimming aimlessly
in an ever increasing pool of oil.
Up dashed another destroyer, the survivors were picked up, and the
little craft hurried on ahead of the battleship, with paravanes
towing in order to detonate any other mines that might be in the
vicinity.
The lesson, obtained at a price, was not thrown away. It proved that
the Rioguayans had not resolved to defend the river by means of
submarines, otherwise they would not have indiscriminately sown
mines which would prove a menace not only to the British surface
craft but to their own submarines.
"Ain't ours a nappy 'ome?" inquired Cavendish, as the two
lieutenants surveyed the remains of their cabins, which before the
action had adjoined each other. Now they were knocked into one. That
saved the trouble of Cavendish having to open two doors when he
wanted to "kag" with his chum; but the removal of the bulkhead did
not end the damage. Both cabins had been completely gutted. Although
the blackened débris had been cleared away, the nauseating smell of
burnt corticene hung about persistently. Scuttles and dead-lights
had disappeared, and although the ragged apertures where they had
been were covered with iron plates bolted to the side, there was a
distressing lack of light and fresh air. Neither officer possessed
any clothes other than those he stood up in, and they were showing
considerable evidence of the ordeal through which their wearers had
passed. Until the _Rebound_ put into port, the chums would have to
depend upon the generosity of their brother-officers for the
replacement of deficiencies in their wardrobe; and as almost every
officer on board had suffered loss of personal gear, there looked
like being a stupendous famine in the clothing line before very
long.
A visit to the bathroom revealed an equally unsatisfactory state of
affairs, no other washing arrangements being available than a metal
hand-basin and a meagre supply of cold water.
But in less than ten minutes, Corbold and Cavendish, with most of
the dirt and grime removed, were sound asleep on strips of canvas
laid upon the floor of their respective cabins.
They were awakened at eight bells (noon) by tremendous rounds of
cheering. Officers and crew had fallen in by divisions on the
quarter-deck, where a wireless message from the Admiralty was read
out, congratulating the fleet on its brilliant achievement.
My Lords had lost no time in broadcasting the news of the victory.
There was no halting, beating-about-the-bush wording. The victory
was claimed, our losses and those of the enemy given, together with
the information that the remnants of the Rioguayan ships were in
full flight.
The moral effect of this _communiqué_ was tremendous. It helped
materially to settle certain Eastern problems, and that so quickly
that the Admiralty were able to order five capital ships with light
cruisers and destroyers to leave the Mediterranean for South
American waters.
Peter and his chum were too late to hear the Admiralty order read
out, but on the cheering dying away the Captain raised his hand for
silence.
It was indeed momentous news that followed.
Hondo, a powerful Asiatic State, had suddenly made war on the
Associated Republic of America. The navy of the latter had been
concentrated on the Pacific coast, but the points raised in the
dispute seemed to have been satisfactorily settled. Then the wily
Asiatics struck suddenly and struck hard. The Associated Republic's
combined squadrons ran full tilt into a mine-field laid off the
Mexican coast, Eight of their battleships, four battle-cruisers, and
numerous smaller craft were destroyed, and in the confusion that
ensued the Hondese submarines followed up the blow by torpedoing
another half-dozen big ships. The remainder scattered, some running
for the Panama Canal, others making for San Paulo. The latter place
was bombarded by Hondese battleships and aircraft, while other
aircraft had played havoc with the Pacific ports of the Republic.
Already the Associated Republican Government had applied to Great
Britain for aid.
The latest report stated that Great Britain was unable to render
assistance, owing to the pressing claims upon her limited navy; but
she suggested a conference--a conference, when the Hondese were
actively hammering upon the Pacific gate of the Associated Republic!
Having communicated this startling information, the Captain ordered
"Pipe down" and the crew dispersed to their various stations to
discuss and argue further about the matter.
The general opinion amongst the officers was that the Associated
Republic's predicament was Britain's opportunity, as far as Rioguay
was concerned. The Monroe Doctrine would become a "wash out". There
was nothing to prevent the British admiral sending an ultimatum to
the Republic of San Benito demanding right of way through her
territorial waters to precisely the same extent as the Rioguayan
Republic enjoyed it.
This demand was sent. San Benito acquiesced in a very chastened
mood. She had read and accepted the lesson of the Writing on the
Wall.
Meanwhile, oil-tankers had replenished the fuel supply of the
British warships. The _Egmont_ and _Edgcumbe_, battle-cruisers, had
arrived hot-foot from Malta, and the fleet was now ready to bring
President Jaime Samuda to heel.
On the evening before the day fixed for the fleet to ascend the
river and attack the batteries and naval port of San Antonio, Peter
was keeping middle watch.
All around, in steadily increasing numbers, lay the fleet, silent
and vigilant. Not a light was visible, save when a masthead signal
lamp winked its message either to or from the "flag". Even the
searchlights were screened, since the navigable channel well above
the anchorage had been heavily mined against the chance of a
surprise attack by hostile submarines. As for the Rioguayan
destroyers, these were ruled out of count. Their experience during
the battle had so shaken the _moral_ of both officers and men, that
they absolutely refused to come out, and had in consequence been
ordered by President Jaime Samuda to form a shore-defence corps.
Pacing alertly up and down the bridge, Peter was approached by a
yeoman of signals.
"Message from Flag, sir," he reported.
The lieutenant took the signal pad into the chartroom. Then he gave
a low whistle.
The sensitive microphones on board the _Royal Oak_ had detected the
approach of a large number of aircraft, bearing north-west by north.
That meant that, assuming the aircraft were the Rioguayan
flying-boats, the hostile forces had made a wide detour and were
approaching over San Valodarian territory.
"Now we're going to see something," commented Peter, as he passed
the message to a side-boy to convey it to the Skipper.
The rest of the fleet had been simultaneously warned by General
Signal. Every searchlight was "running", although carefully
screened; and in conjunction with each searchlight was a "Strong"
anti-aircraft projector.
As a precautionary measure, the crews of the quick-firers were
called to action stations, but already there was sufficient
confidence in the rays to warrant the assumption that the
forthcoming task would not require the aid of gunnery.
Throughout the darkened fleet an uncanny silence prevailed. The
night was starless. There was a flat calm. The conditions for
microphone detector work were excellent.
Nearer and nearer came the hostile flying-boats, their direction and
distance being so accurately recorded that they derived no advantage
by delivering a night attack.
At length the dull rumble of their propellers became faintly
audible. In spite of devices calculated to muffle the noise, it was
impossible to smother the beats of fifty or sixty aerial propellers
working in unison.
"Bearing 55 degrees; elevation 22 degrees," announced the
range-finding, officer at the searchlight director station.
Then, fifteen seconds later: "bearing 60 degrees; elevation 25
degrees."
[Illustration: A BLAZE OF DAZZLING BEAMS
_Page_ 297]
Not until the elevation increased to 30 degrees were the
searchlights to unmask. The period of suspense seemed interminable,
although the flying-boats were known to be approaching at well over
a hundred miles an hour.
"Bearing 90 degrees," came the level, even tones of the
range-finding officer; then in a louder voice that seemed to
indicate that a slow job had at last been completed: "Elevation 30
degrees."
Within the space of five seconds, every searchlight of the fleet was
flashed obliquely into the darkness. The air was one blaze of
dazzling beams, spread fanwise lest any daring and cunning airman
should attempt to approach from an independent direction.
Eight miles off could be discerned the almost mathematical formation
of the hostile air squadrons. They wavered when the beams fell
athwart their path, which was probably owing to the pilots being
temporarily blinded by the sudden glare. Then they recovered
formation and came on.
A red rocket soared skywards from the flagship. It was the signal to
let loose the rays.
To the onlookers it seemed as if a flight of plover had been raked
by the heavy charge from a punt-gun. The massed flight broke its
ranks. A few of the flying-boats held on, the majority simply
nose-dived. A few were crashed into by those following. Others
recovered sufficiently to plane down, remorselessly followed by the
beam of a searchlight until they dropped helplessly upon the surface
of the river.
One by one, those who at first had evaded the blighting rays were
"picked up" by the searchlights and compelled to volplane. In less
than thirty seconds silence brooded over the now crippled aircraft
where a short while before the roar of two hundred powerful engines
had rent the air. And within the space of another three minutes
fifty flying-boats were either resting upon the water or were lying
ten fathoms beneath it, all within a radius of a mile and a half.
Another signal issued from the _Royal Oak_. A flotilla of fifteen
destroyers in double column line ahead swung round under the lee of
the battleships and darted towards the paralysed flying-boats.
Not a shot was fired. The Rioguayan airmen refrained because they
feared the consequences--the British gunners, because their foes
offered no resistance.
With typical imperturbability, the skippers of the various
destroyers manoeuvred alongside their prey. The Rioguayans were
peremptorily ordered on board and sent below. Then a few blows with
a hatchet were sufficient to start the steel plating of the
all-metal aircraft and send them to the bed of the river. Out of the
fifty flying-boats, five were reserved as prizes. The rest were
scuttled, since the British admiral had no means of sending the
whole of the captured air fleet into harbour.
It was a glorious triumph for Brian Strong's inventive genius.