THE MISSING WIRELESS GEAR
THE narrow waters of the strait between Negropont and Andros
presented an unwonted spectacle to the crew of the _Olive Branch_ as
they stood at general quarters.
Straining and grinding at their utmost speed of nine knots were four
Turkish battleships--the _Azizieh_, _Mahmoudieh_, _Orkanieh_, and
_Osmanieh_, while on their flanks were the cruisers _Abdul Medjid,
Fezibahri_, and _Hamidieh_, compelled, for defensive purposes, to
reduce their speed to that of their consorts. By dint of strenuous
exertions--so incomprehensible to the kismet-abiding Turk--the
battleships had been cleaned of the deposit of barnacles that had
encrusted their hulls during years of idleness in the Golden Horn,
and were about to try conclusions with the smaller, yet more
serviceable, warships of Greece.
The Hellenic fleet, consisting of the three battleships _Hydra,
Psara_, and _Spetsai_, and three modern cruisers built by the Italian
firm of Ansaldo, did not hesitate to put to sea, and now at less than
seven miles apart the rival fleets prepared for the opening stages of
the conflict.
At her utmost speed the _Olive Branch_ dashed in between the fleets,
a huge white flag flying from the truck of a forty-foot spar lashed
to her diminutive signalling mast. Then, reversing her propellers,
she brought up within three cables' lengths of the Turkish flagship,
the _Azizieh_.
All hands on board the _Olive Branch_ were now at their stations,
only Captain Brookes, Gerald, Lieutenant Slade, the signal bo's'un,
and two yeomen of signals remaining on the bridge or within the
conning-tower.
"Make the general signal to both fleets," ordered the captain, and
hoist after hoist rose to the yard-arm with the utmost celerity.
_From captain of "Olive Branch" to the commanding officers Turkish
and Hellenic Fleets:--_
Abandon hostilities and return to respective ports. Every vessel
disregarding this order by opening fire will be destroyed.
The Turkish admiral was beside himself with rage. He had heard of the
_Olive Branch_, and of her dealings with the Peruvian fleet, but was
he, a Mussulman, to be overridden by a Giaour? Slowly the foremast
turret of the _Azizieh_ swung round, the muzzle of the 9.2 Krupp
pointing menacingly towards the distant _Psara_. For quite ten
seconds the gun remained thus trained, the admiral still hesitating
to give the word to fire.
Then, trained by the manual power imparted by a score of toiling
seamen, the turret turned till the muzzle gaped straight at the
_Olive Branch_.
"Better take shelter, gentlemen," remarked Captain Brookes, calmly.
"The old gentleman yonder seems to be forgetting himself."
Even as he spoke the Krupp opened fire. The Turkish gun-layer,
distrustful of the quality of the charge, had allowed for the
admitted inferiority of the explosive; but this particular powder was
far above the usual standard.
The result was that the projectile, possessing a high initial
velocity and a low trajectory, flew handsomely over the _Olive
Branch_, although sufficiently close to allow the windage to be felt
by those on the bridge as they hastened to take cover.
"For'ard turret: load with Mark 2 projectile," ordered Captain
Brookes. Then turning to Gerald he remarked: "Perhaps that gunner
lost his head. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt."
The captain's humane consideration was thrown away. The shot had been
intentional, and the Turkish admiral, finding there was no reply,
prepared for a second round.
"Give it to her!" shouted the captain.
Mark 2 projectiles, though of low bursting power compared with the
_Olive Branch's_ first quality shells, were not to be despised.
The right-hand gun of No. 1 turret kicked slightly and emitted a
slight bluish haze as the projectile screamed on its way towards the
Turkish flagship.
The _Azizieh_ was an old ship, being built on the Clyde in 1864, yet
her 5 1/2in. belt was still capable of standing a lot of hammering;
at least, so thought the Turkish authorities.
The 6in. shell took her fairly and squarely amidships, and though the
ship was not instantly pulverised--as she would have been had Captain
Brookes so wished--her destruction was none the less complete.
A small jagged hole marked the place of entry of the projectile; but
on the explosion of the shell it seemed as if the vitals of the ship
were thrown high in the air.
Twice the _Azizieh_ made a double list, then settling down by the
stern she showed that her wound was fatal. With true Oriental
indifference the Turks had gone into action without throwing
overboard their inflammable gear; even their wooden boats were still
in davits or on the booms, and these were burning furiously.
Calmly the lithe, brown-skinned seamen lowered themselves over the
side or plunged into the water. Many were caught by the propellers as
the ship, by some inconceivable means, threw her stern in the air and
plunged bows foremost beneath the waves, dragging down many of the
swimmers in the smoke-enshrouded whirlpool that marked her grave.
Then a deafening roar, as the water came in contact with her boilers,
gave place to an ominous silence. The _Azizieh_ was no more.
That was the end of the action. The rest of the Turkish vessels
immediately went about and made off at full speed towards the
Dardanelles; while the Grecian admiral, having made a signal thanking
the _Olive Branch_ for her intervention--an acknowledgment that
Captain Brookes deliberately ignored--retired southward.
Thus the near Eastern difficulty was settled with a promptitude
hitherto unknown; but, though Captain Brookes was unaware of it, the
averting of a European war was not complete. The inevitable struggle
was ere long to be diverted through another channel.
"See here, Mr. Tregarthen," remarked the American airman, a few days
after this occurrence, "I'd just like to have a look inside that
wonderful conning-tower. Can you work it?"
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Flew; at least, not without Captain Brookes's
permission. Why don't you ask him?"
"Thanks, I just won't," was the reply. "Don't mention it to him."
Five minutes later the captain appeared on deck.
"Why is that Yank so keen on knowing what is within the
conning-tower, Mr. Tregarthen?"
Gerald flushed with surprise. The perception of the captain of the
_Olive Branch_ seemed beyond comprehension.
"Don't look so flabbergasted, Mr. Tregarthen. You are not the first
person that fellow has broached on the matter. "However, I've made up
my mind to get rid of him at the earliest possible opportunity. He
may be all right, but, bluntly, I don't like his inquisitive manner."
[Illustration: "Good shot!" yelled several of the officers on the
_Olive Branch_. For a full ten seconds the monoplane held on its
course, then, lurching like a wounded bird, it swooped swiftly
downwards.]
"Inquisitiveness is one of the traits of the American character,
sir."
"That I can make allowance for. But why didn't he come straight to me
with his request?" Just then Flew, who was promenading the port side
of the quarter-deck in company of Lieutenant Palmer, came abreast of
the spot where the captain and Gerald were talking. In response to a
sign from Captain Brookes the airman crossed the deck.
"How long will it take to get your motor tuned up, Mr. Flew?" asked
the captain.
"A couple of hours; why?"
"See yonder land? It is the coast of Syria. I would suggest, Mr.
Flew, that you continue your tour from this point. The Syrian and
Palestine littoral will no doubt be interesting to you, and, as we
are shortly bound for the eastern part of the Mediterranean, this
favourable opportunity cannot lightly be ignored."
Captain Brookes spoke genially, but there was a veiled command that
the airman could not fail to detect.
"Very good, sir," he replied deferentially. "I guess I'll quit right
here."
As a matter of fact the work of assembling the monoplane and
adjusting the motor was performed in less than an hour and a half,
during which time the _Olive Branch_ was running southward at an easy
ten knots, keeping a course parallel to the Syrian coast.
"All ready now, sir."
"Then nip below and have some refreshment. By the bye, is this
distance too great for your flight to land?"
"Not at all, sir."
"Will you require any of the stanchions to be cleared away?"
"No, I claim I can rise in the air at a less distance and more
obliquely than any other aviator. I guess I'll not scratch the
paintwork."
So saying, the airman, accompanied by Lieutenant Palmer, went below,
where he remained for over half an hour. When he reappeared he was
fully attired for his flight, though, protesting that the heat made
the device uncomfortable, he would not inflate his indiarubber suit.
Practically all the officers and crew had assembled to watch his
departure, the men crowding as far aft as they dared. Shaking hands
with the officers, Sidney P. Flew climbed into his seat above the two
air-pontoons. One or two preliminary touches, and like a gigantic
hawk he was off, amid the hearty cheers of the crew.
While all eyes were fixed upon the rapidly soaring and receding
figure there was a sudden commotion, and Lieutenant Palmer,
white-faced and staggering like a drunken man, tottered up the
companion.
"Stop him!" he gasped. "He's stolen the wireless reciprocators," and
without another word he collapsed upon the quarter-deck.
Captain Brookes was one of the first to recover his composure--if
indeed, he had lost it.
"To the conning-tower, Mr. Tregarthen. The Z-rays."
Gerald comprehended these brief orders. By means of the electric
fluid the aviator would be brought down as he attempted to cross the
zone representing the minimum limit of the rays. It meant a headlong
race for'ard, but the crew automatically cleared a path for the young
officer, and with the least possible delay he gained the armoured
citadel.
Swiftly, yet deliberately, Gerald set the pointers. There was no
answering spark. He tried another and yet another square; still no
response. The Z-rays apparatus had been tampered with.
Realising the uselessness of investigation at that critical moment,
Gerald tore aft and reported the occurrence.
Captain Brookes looked in the direction of the retreating aviator.
"Clear away that 6-pounder."
Quickly the gun was manned and a shining copper and steel cylinder
thrust into the breach.
"Four thousand yards," sang out Lieutenant Sinclair, who, without
waiting for instructions, had taken the distance by means of his
pocket range-finder.
"Fire!"
"Good shot!" yelled several of the officers, carried away by their
excitement, as, by the aid of their glasses the missile was seen to
burst just above the fugitive.
For a full ten seconds the monoplane held on its course, then,
lurching like a wounded bird, it swooped swiftly downwards, striking
the water with a terrific splash.
"Full speed ahead. A leadsman in the chains," ordered Captain Brookes
as he made his way to the bridge.
A few minutes were sufficient to bring the _Olive Branch_, with very
little way on, immediately over the spot where the aeroplane had
disappeared, the airman's cap and one of the inflated floats still
marking the scene of the disaster.
The leadsman made a cast, then as he heaved the buoyed log-line
overboard he shouted, "Eighty fathoms."
[Illustration: chapter XXII]