A NAVY IMPOTENT
THROUGHOUT the winter and the following spring Kenneth Meredith still
carried on at Scapa. Wakefield, too, was temporarily retained, but
otherwise the band of R.N.V.R. officers and men of the M.L. patrol
was steadily and rapidly diminishing.
Almost brand-new boats would steam out for the last time, bound south
to lie, neglected and forlorn, in a Hampshire river, where a tier,
four-deep and lengthening daily, was one of the many signs that the
Great War was practically over, even if Peace were not yet signed.
Jock McIntosh was one of the first to be "demobbed." He went
smilingly, confident of the future, yet something about him seemed to
strike Meredith that his bright, almost jocular demeanour was a
little simulated.
There were reductions amongst the Air Force people, too. Blenkinson
and Jefferson went almost at the same time, reluctantly, into an
unaccustomed world to start life afresh, as it were--Blenkinson into
an office, setting aside the "joy-stick" to take up the pen;
Jefferson into slightly more congenial surroundings--to wit, a large
motor business.
Some months later Pyecroft went, via a demobilisation centre in the
south of England, to take up the almost forgotten threads of study at
an Engineering College.
Of all the R.A.F. fellows who, by chance, had been Meredith's
comrades on board Q 171, only Cumberleigh remained, "carrying on"
until the order came for the Air Station to "pack up."
During those months following the Armistice, Kenneth and Wakefield
saw a good deal of Cumberleigh. Although there was much work to be
done with the remaining M.L.'s, there was plenty of opportunity for
leisure, and it was not to be wondered at that after months of
strenuous and perilous occupation there was a decided tendency to
"slack." Joy-riding, both afloat and in the air, was freely indulged
in. For one thing, it "kept one's hand in," and it was better to make
use of both boat and machine than to allow them to rust and
deteriorate for want of use.
Several times Meredith accompanied Cumberleigh on a flight in a blimp
over the interned German fleet. It was a novel sensation, driving
along at fifty miles an hour in a motor-propelled gas-bag above the
now impotent Hun navy and observing battleship, battle-cruiser,
cruiser and destroyer rusting at their respective moorings.
"I can't imagine why we don't shunt those Huns," remarked
Cumberleigh, during one flight. The ignition of both motors had been
switched off and the blimp was floating almost motionless in the
still air. "They're supposed to be 'care and maintenance parties,'
but I'm hanged if I've ever seen them at work. The ships ought to
have been surrendered and prize crews put on board."
"Wakefield and I were talking to a pukka commander on the very
subject," said Meredith. "He quite agreed that Fritz ought to be
shunted, but it appears that the Allied Council insists upon the
German ships being kept in a state of internment."
"What for?" asked Cumberleigh.
"Pending a decision as to their disposal," replied Meredith.
"Personally I think it's rather a good scheme towing the lot out to
sea and sinking them, as the Admiralty suggested."
"Why?" asked the R.A.F. captain. "It would be a precious waste of
good material."
"It would," agreed Kenneth; "but at the same time it would do away
with any danger of friction between the Allies as to the sharing-out
deal. Without a doubt it was the British Navy that brought about the
surrender. The Yanks, too, helped considerably. But neither we nor
the Americans want the ships. France, Italy and Japan might; but
there, you see, is a chance of squabbling. However, there they are,
and seem likely to remain until Peace is signed."
"At the same time it's a risky business leaving Fritz on board,"
declared Cumberleigh. "Everyone on the station is of the same
opinion, but, I hear, the Commander-in-Chief is helpless in the
matter. Virtually the ships are German territory, even though they
daren't hoist their dirty flags."
"And we cannot board them to see what's going on," added Meredith.
"All we can do is to overhaul the weekly relief boat to see that she
carries no war material. There was a yarn knocking around that the
Huns were deliberately tampering with the big guns."
"Yes," said Cumberleigh, "cutting deep grooves round the chases and
filling them in with putty and paint, so that if they were fired they
would burst and kill the guns' crews. That was authenticated, and
photographs printed showing Fritz's rotten trick."
"The Hun relief boat's due to-morrow," observed Meredith. "Wakefield
and I have to meet her at the entrance to Pentland Firth. Like to
come along with us?"
"Delighted," replied Cumberleigh, as he motioned to the mechanic to
"carry on." "Look there a minute," he added. "See that Hun just abaft
the after-turret?"
Kenneth levelled his binoculars upon the deck of the ship
indicated--the giant _Hindenburg_. The blimp was barely five hundred
feet up, and at that height it seemed as if one could touch the
trucks of her mast with a fishing-rod.
Standing on the quarter-deck was a burly German bluejacket. Others
were sitting or sprawling on the formerly almost sacred deck, where
no officer or man would step without saluting the Black Cross Ensign.
The fellow had his head thrown back and was gazing upwards at the
British coastal airship, the while making hideous grimaces and
shaking his fist, while his comrades were laughing at his antics and
doubtless applauding his expressions of anger.
"Sort of thing you'd expect from a Hun," observed Cumberleigh. "He
knows we can't strafe him, so I suppose he thinks he's getting some
satisfaction in making faces at us."
Meredith replaced his glasses.
"Yes," he remarked. "Case of little things please little minds. Good
heavens! Can you imagine our fleet lying in captivity at Kiel? I
can't. And yet those fellows don't seem to realise their rotten
position in the slightest."
"Well, we've seen all that there is to be seen," said Cumberleigh.
"Outwardly the Hun fleet seems _in statu quo_, but I'd like to know
what's going on 'tween decks."
"And so would a good many people," added Meredith.
The noise of the motors interrupted further conversation, as the
blimp, describing a graceful curve, headed for the distant sheds.
The airship made a faultless descent. With plenty of hands available,
she was guided into her lofty stable, while Meredith, declining an
invitation to stay to lunch at the mess, bade Cumberleigh good-day.
"And don't forget to-morrow," he added. "We are getting under way at
nine."
At the landing-stage he encountered Morpeth.
"Been up?" inquired "Tough Geordie." "I mean to have a trip aloft
before I finish here."
"Find things a bit dull?" asked Kenneth.
"A bit," admitted Morpeth. "Since the Grand Fleet pushed off there's
not much doing. A fellow gets sick of looking at a crowd of Hun ships
day after day and not knowing what's going on."
"Eh?" inquired Kenneth curiously.
"'Twouldn't have been my way with the brutes," explained Morpeth.
"Practically leaving them to their own devices. We made them come
out: why can't we put the stopper on them?"
"What's the matter with your foot?" asked Meredith, noticing that his
"companion walked with a slight limp.
"For over four years," he said, "I never had a chance to lay a Fritz
out. I don't call blowing a few dozen up the same thing. But I did
to-day. I was up beyond Stenness, where you know the Huns are allowed
the run of the show. Hanged if I didn't bear a woman yelling like
billy-o. So I ran up in double quick time and found three Huns
robbing her hen-roost. Took a fowl under her very nose, as cool as
brass. When they saw me they looked a bit scared, until they found
that I had only one arm and there was no one else about. Three of
them to a one-armed man is about their mark. They showed fight. So
did I. I forgot my missing arm and imagined I was handling Dagoes in
the old Foul Anchor Line. Biffed one right in the jaw, staggered
another on the solar plexus. The third hooked it."
"And your foot?"
"Travelled a little faster than the fellow who hooked it," replied
Morpeth grimly. "Three knots faster, I'll allow, but I forgot that I
was wearing thin shoes and not fat, solid sea-boots. By the way Fritz
yelled I reckon I hurt him more than he did me, and he won't go
robbing hen-roosts again in a hurry."
"Have a trip to-morrow?" asked Meredith. "We're going out to look for
the Hun relief ship. Cumberleigh's coming."
"Suppose I can manage it," replied Morpeth. "I'll fix it up with my
opposite number. Right-o. I'll be aboard by eight bells."