Next day I decided that, in view of the fact that our enemies had traced
us, it would be best to at once remove our headquarters. Further, in
order to attack a Zeppelin, as I intended, we ought to station ourselves
upon the line of their advance from the East Coast towards London, and
somewhere in proximity to an anti-aircraft listening-post.
All three of us held council and decided that, as I knew of a
listening-post in East Anglia, I should fly the machine to that
neighbourhood, rather than dismantle it and take it by road. It was
arranged that Teddy should accompany me, and that Theed should drive
Roseye, Mulliner and his father in the car. By this rapid and
unexpected flight we hoped to at least evade the unwelcome attentions of
that mysterious woman whom Roseye described as having leopard's eyes.
Experience had taught us that in the Zeppelin raids upon England the
airships generally approached by crossing the coast-line between
Lowestoft and Margate, therefore I decided upon a district that would be
the centre of a danger-zone.
Having studied my map I saw that my most direct route would be over
Tonbridge, thence by the railway line to Sevenoaks, and then north-east
till I could pick up Gravesend--which would be easy on account of the
river Thames--and afterwards due north would bring me to G--, which
would be easily distinguishable by certain landmarks.
We had wheeled out the machine, and I was tuning her up before starting,
both Teddy and I ready in our air-clothes, when Theed, who was giving
the machine a final look round, suddenly gave vent to an ejaculation of
dismay.
"Why look, sir!" he cried. "What's this?"
I hopped quickly out of the pilot's seat and, joining him, saw to my
surprise that, beneath the wooden petrol-tank a fine insulated twin-wire
had been, placed, and upon it, tacked lightly to the wood, was a small
disc of some black-looking material through which the fine wire ran.
In breathless eagerness I traced the wire and, to my horror, saw what a
devilish contrivance it was. The twin-wire had been connected up to the
battery that ran the lamp over my map and instruments, therefore had I
switched on the light at night, it would have failed, for it was
intended that the current should ignite that little disc of inflammable
material and explode my petrol-tank behind me!
Truly, the device of those crafty and subtle enemies was a devilish one.
That wire had been connected up by an Invisible Hand--by the hand of
one who certainly knew the most vulnerable point of the machine.
Teddy and Roseye both stood aghast at this latest revelation.
Then, when I had disconnected the wire, I placed it with the little
black incendiary disc upon the ground and connected up the wires to an
accumulator from the car.
In a moment the black substance shot into a fierce red flame which
burned and spluttered with intense heat for fully five minutes.
From the barn, a few minutes later, Theed emerged carrying a piece of
the wire, evidently discarded by the intruder who had so swiftly and so
cunningly prepared another death-trap for me.
A further hour we spent in making a second examination of the machine,
and then having appointed to meet that evening at the old King's Head,
in G--, at seven o'clock, I climbed into the pilot's seat and, with
Teddy at my side, we shot forward and soon left the ground heading for
the railway line which I knew would run from right to left across our
track at Tonbridge.
I was really glad to place Holly Farm behind me. It certainly was not a
"healthy" spot, as far as we were concerned. The low-down cunning of
our enemies had once more been revealed. Yet how I longed for Roseye to
tell me the actual truth! Why did she so persistently refuse? What
could she have to hide from me--the man who loved her so very dearly.
We trusted each other. She had trusted her life to me in the air on
many occasions--even on the previous night. Yet she remained silent.
The day was bright and crisp, with a slight north-westerly wind and a
few scudding clouds. Very soon, when we had risen to about four
thousand feet--for I had determined to fly high again--I saw a big
seaplane coming up from the coast. It passed us about four miles
distant and then I gave over the dual controls to Teddy, so that he
might get used to them ready for the crucial test when it must mean
either destruction to a Zeppelin, or to ourselves.
Teddy was a first-rate patriot. There was nothing of the milk-and-water
type about him, and yet, at the same time, he was nothing of a lady's
man. He was always courteous, humorous, and charming with the fair sex,
but he preferred to read and smoke his rather foul briar pipe, than to
go out of an evening into the glitter and clatter of London life. But
we were friends--firm friends, and he was just as prepared and keen to
take the risk as I was.
We found Tonbridge quite easily. Below us what looked like a toy-train
was puffing along towards Dover, leaving a white streak of steam behind.
For a few minutes I made a short circuit over the town in order to find
the line that ran across to Sevenoaks, and at last, distinguishing it, I
made my way over that rather scattered place and then struck another
railway line at a place marked upon the map as Fawkham, after which I
soon picked out the shining river with Gravesend on one bank and Tilbury
on the other. I glanced at the altimeter. We were 10,500 feet up.
Below us all was misty in the valley of the river. Then over the brown
land of Essex I sped forward until I again found another railway line at
Brentwood and, following it, soon saw my landmark--one which I need not
refer to here, for I have no desire to instruct enemy airmen.
Nothing extraordinary had met my eye. I was used to the patchwork
landscape.
Then began a search for a convenient field in which to land.
I came down from ten thousand to a thousand feet in long sweeping
circles, examining each grass meadow as I went.
The lower I came, the more easily could I distinguish the pastures and
ploughed land and woods.
A train was passing and I noted the direction of the smoke--most
important in making a landing. Teddy at my side, as practised as I was
myself in flying, had never moved. Through his big goggles he was
gazing down, trying to decide upon a landing-place, just as I was.
I banked for a moment. Then put her nose down and then, finding no spot
attractive, climbed again.
I did not want to land too near the town, for I had no desire to attract
undue attention.
I was trying to find a certain main road, for, truth to tell, I had been
up very early that morning consulting my maps.
On that main road were two or three farms in which I hoped I could
shelter my machine, just as I had done at Holly Farm.
I suppose we spent perhaps nearly half an hour in the air before, after
critical examination, I decided to descend into a large park before a
good-sized old Georgian house belonging, no doubt, to some county
family.
Parks, provided they have few trees, are always desired by the aviator
as landing-places.
Indeed, as I circled round I could plainly see that several figures,
attracted by the heavy, roar of my engine, were standing outside
watching us.
Two minutes later I brought the machine round to the wind.
Down went her nose--down, down. The air screamed about our ears. The
earth rushed up to meet us, as it always seems to do. Truth to tell, by
my own fault, I had had a nasty nose-dive, but I righted her and,
touching the grass, managed to pull up dead.
Teddy, who had been watching it all, never turned a hair.
Only when I shut off the roar of the engine, he remarked:
"By Jove! Devilish good landing! That nose-dive was rather a nasty
one, Claude--wasn't it?"
And, unstrapping himself, he hopped out and sought his cigarette-case
from his hip-pocket, as was his habit.
We were close against the big, rather ugly country house, therefore,
leaving the machine, we went up and soon found its owner--a retired
colonel of the usual JP type--hard on poachers when on the County Bench,
I expect.
Still, he welcomed us warmly and was, we found, quite a good sort.
I asked him to take us aside, and he conducted us to the library, a fine
old-fashioned room lined with brown-backed books.
There I told him the truth--of what we were after.
"Well," said the white-haired old man, looking me up and down, "you seem
a pretty keen young fellow, and your friend also. If you are over here
on such a mission then I hope you will, both of you, consider yourselves
my guests. I've a big barn beyond the stables where I can garage your
machine quite well."
Then I told him of the trio who were on their way to the King's Head, in
G--.
"I shall only be too delighted to be their host," he replied at once.
"I know Sir Herbert and Lady Lethmere well, but I don't believe I've
ever met their daughter."
Then he introduced his wife, a rather youngly-dressed woman, whose eyes
were "made-up" and the artificiality of whose cheeks were just a trifle
too transparent. But artificiality seems fashionable to-day.
We duly put the machine away into the barn and later, when we sat at tea
in the drawing-room, the conversation naturally turned upon Zeppelins.
Colonel Cator, for such we had found our host's name to be, held rather
sceptical views regarding the power of aeroplanes to combat airships,
and he waxed distinctly humorous as we sat together.
"There have been so many fables told us about aircraft," declared the
erect old man, "that one does not really know what to believe."
"There have been a good many improvements recently in aircraft of all
sorts, so that most of the pre-war types have been already scrapped," I
said.
"Yes, yes, I know," exclaimed our host. "But what I object is to the
fairy-tales that we've been told in the past--how we've been reassured."
"But does the past really affect the present very much?" I queried.
"I contend that it does. We should have been told the truth," he
declared emphatically and, rising, he took from beneath a table a large
scrap-book.
Then, returning to his chair, he said: "I have here a cutting from _The
Times_ of March 20, 1913. I came across it only the other day.
Listen--and I'll read it to you, because it is most illuminating to you
airmen."