THE LAST LAP
"Rather late, ain't you!" said Barracombe, as Smith jumped from the aeroplane.
"Hallo, Sis. Hallo, old man!" cried Smith. "We've done it; seven days, to the minute!"
Kate flew into his arms: only next day did she discover the ruin of her dress.
"I've a voice like a corncake," said Smith, disengaging himself. "Glad to see you, Billy."
"You're a wonder! But, God bless me! you look awfully done up. You look positively ill. Come up to the house at once; we don't want you crocked."
"Come on, Roddy," said Smith hoarsely. "You'll stay with us to-night. Leave the machine for once. You see, Billy, I have to rejoin at nine to-morrow—to-morrow, I say; I mean this morning. That gives me nine hours, and as I haven't been to bed for a week I want seven good solid hours sleep."
"But really, Charley, you don't look fit to rejoin," said Kate. "Your cheeks are dreadfully thin, and your voice is nearly gone."
"Well, of course, I'm dead tired; feel all to pieces, in fact. But all I want is sleep."
"And a medical certificate," put in Barracombe. "I've known a fellow get two months' leave for what he called a strained heart. Strained it to some purpose, for he got married before his leave was up. We'll get you a certificate—a doctor's, not a parson's."
"I don't mind if you do, after I've rejoined; but I must show up without fail at nine a.m. I'm later than I meant to be. Got snowed up at St. John's."
"You didn't come straight from Toronto, then!"
"No. Didn't care to risk it. Besides, it would have meant eighteen hours in the air at a stretch. I don't think Roddy and I could have stood that. I took St. John's—in Newfoundland, Kate—on the way."
"But I thought Newfoundland was near the North Pole."
"A common mistake. St. John's is considerably southward of our latitude. But they've had a cold snap there lately, and we came down in a snowdrift and had to be dug out. We had an easy flight across the Atlantic; the engine has behaved splendidly all through, thanks to Roddy. But I'm glad to be home; by Jove, I am!"
This conversation passed as they walked up to the house. Mrs. Smith had been wakened by the noise of the engine, and stood just within the door to welcome her son. She, too, was struck by his haggard appearance, and declared she must send for the doctor.
"Why, Mother, you're not going to coddle me at my age," he said. "You ought to be in bed. Off you go: I shall be all right in the morning. I shall have something to tell you then. Breakfast at eight sharp, by the way; or I shan't get to Portsmouth in time."
"Very well, my dear. Simmons is up, keeping some food warm for you. I will tell him. Goodnight."
"I've such loads to tell you," said Smith, when she had gone; "but I'm afraid it must wait. By the way, Kate, I suppose nothing of importance has come for me?"
"A few letters, mostly from the people you disappointed, I suspect. I'll fetch them."
When she returned, Smith immediately noticed a long official envelope in the bundle. He tore it open.
"Great Scott!" he cried. "An order to rejoin on Wednesday without fail. That's a nasty whack."
"Any explanation?" asked Barracombe.
"Not a word. Some sudden whimsy of the admiral's, I suppose. Have you got yesterday's paper, Kate?"
"I remember now," cried Kate. "How silly of me to forget it! The Implacable broke down, and your ship was ordered to replace her."
"Just my luck!" exclaimed Smith gloomily. "Last time I was late the ship was going shooting. Now I shall miss her altogether when she's at manœuvres. Captain Bolitho will put me down as a hopeless rotter."
"What nonsense, Charley! You had seven days left, and you're not bound to be within call at a moment's notice. I'm very glad the ship has left Portsmouth, for now you can't rejoin, and you'll have time to rest."
"I'm not so sure, Kate," he cried, suddenly sitting up, and scanning the paper she had brought. "Where's the fleet? Ah! Irish coast. I'll rejoin, as sure as I'm alive. You see, I'm due at nine. I'm not physically incapable, and in the aeroplane I can easily do it if I can find the squadron. The Implacable was with the Blue fleet, operating from Bear Haven, I see. It's worth trying, anyhow."
"Magnificent, but absurd," said Barracombe. "You won't find them, either."
"A fiver that I will."
"No, thanks. By the way, you owe me a fiver."
"How's that?"
"Look at this."
He handed Smith Farmer Barton's receipted bill, and related what had happened in the evening.
Smith laughed.
"I'd forgotten him; but his bill is no doubt among this batch. To come back to the point. I am serious. I mean to rejoin my ship at nine. To give myself plenty of time I'll start at six. It's now past twelve; I'll set my alarm clock for six. I'm sorry for Roddy, I'm afraid, he must clean the engine. D'you mind finding him?—Ah! here he is, and Simmons with soup. Thank you, Simmons. Sorry to keep you up so late."
"I'm glad to see you back safe and sound, sir," said the man respectfully.
Smith shot a glance at Rodier, but the look of surprise on the Frenchman's face showed that he, at any rate, had not been talking. Kate's expression proved that she was equally surprised.
"And I hope the Master and Mr. Tom are as well as could be expected, sir," added Simmons.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, sir, I knew the Master had met with a accident—"
"But I cut the paragraph out of the paper," cried Kate.
"Yes, miss, that's what made me go and buy one. I assure you I haven't said a word to a soul, miss, guessing as you wanted it kep' from the Mistress, and you can't trust female maids."
"But how did you know I had gone out to the Solomons?" asked Smith.
"'Twas a bit in the Times first put me on the scent, sir, about a sensation in Constantinople about two daring and intrepid airmen that came down there sudden-like and went away in a jiff. No names were named, sir, but I guessed it was you and Mr. Rodier."
"Johnson had discretion, at any rate," murmured Smith. "Well!"
"Next day there was a bit about two airmen coming down at some place in India, sir. Putting two and two together—"
"I see. No names again?"
"No, sir, not till to-night."
"To-night, eh?"
"Yes, sir. There's a bit in the Evening News to-night, not strictly true, sir. I've got it here."
He drew the paper from his pocket, and pointed to the following paragraph—
The mysterious airmen whose doings have been reported at intervals during the last few days have now appeared at San Francisco. One of them is said to be a Lieutenant Thistleton Smith, who, according to our correspondent, explained that he has a bet of £10,000 with a well-known sporting nobleman that he will circle the globe in a fortnight. The general opinion in San Francisco is that these sporadic appearances of airmen in far-distant spots are part of a cleverly devised scheme of world-wide advertisement, engineered by a Chicago pork-packing firm who have more than once displayed considerable ingenuity in pushing their products.
There was general laughter when Smith read this paragraph aloud. Rodier alone was solemn.
"They think we boom pigs!" he cried indignantly. "Pigs themselves."
"Well, Roddy, truth will out," said Smith. "I'm sorry to keep you up, by the way, but I shall have to leave at six o'clock. Would you mind running down to the shed and—cleaning the engine?"
"Mon Dieu! I do nothing for a week but clean the engine."
"Yes, poor chap, but you shall have a rest after this. Go to bed when you've got things shipshape; I shall go alone; only about four hundred miles this time."
"You really mean it, then?" said Barracombe.
"Decidedly. If you knew Captain Bolitho you would see that there's no help for it."
"Well, then, the sooner you eat your supper and get between the sheets the better. I'll tuck you up."
"Tuck in and tuck up. Very well."
"Your bath shall be ready at six, sir," said Simmons.
A few minutes after six o'clock, Smith made his ascent, his departure being witnessed by his sister and Barracombe and the whole domestic staff. He flew rapidly over Hampshire, Dorset, Devon; crossed the Bristol Channel, and made a bee-line for Bear Haven at the entrance to Bantry Bay. Soon after eight he descried a number of dull grey specks strung like beads on the western horizon. They must be one or other of the opposing fleets, either the Reds or the Blues; but which? He must go and see. Altering his course a point or two, in a few minutes he was running down the line of warships, which were steaming line ahead, apparently in the direction of Bear Haven. At a glance he recognized the Thunderbolt, notoriously the lame duck of the Reds, lagging three or four miles behind the rest. Smith slowed down to quarter speed as he passed the leading ships, and a few blank shots were fired at him for form's sake, for the guns were incapable of an inclination that would be dangerous to him at his height of 3,000 feet, even if they were throwing live shell.
He drew clear of the squadron, and was about to put his engine at full speed again when an aeroplane shot up from the deck of the flagship and started in pursuit, followed at a short interval by a second aeroplane from a vessel some distance down the line. Smith smiled to himself. From what he knew of the service aeroplanes, the Puck, as he had now named his vessel, was in no danger of being overtaken; but if the airmen of the Red fleet wanted a run, he was not the man to baulk them. In a few minutes the pursuers began to close in; he increased the speed to eighty miles; still they gained on him. Another notch in the regulator increased his speed to a hundred miles an hour, at which he felt that he should be able to hold his own. He found, however, that one of the aeroplanes was still gaining, and it was not until he had increased his speed another twenty miles that the Puck began to draw away.
"Now to business," Smith said to himself.
Paying no more attention to the pursuers, except by a glance to assure himself that, though hopelessly outstripped, they were still following him, he searched the horizon ahead for signs of the Blue fleet. The rugged coast of Cork county had been for some time in sight, and as Smith was well acquainted with it from experience in former manœuvres, he was able to steer straight for Bear Haven as soon as the landmarks were distinguishable. It was more than half-an-hour after sighting the Red fleet when he flew over Bantry Bay to the harbour. Except for a number of colliers it was empty.
Smith had already decided on his course of action if he should find that the fleet had put to sea. He would adopt the tactics that had succeeded so well in Ysabel Island, searching, not the land this time, but the sea, fanwise, while his fuel lasted. The position of the colliers seemed to indicate that they had only recently been engaged in coaling, so that in all probability the fleet had left that morning and was not far away. Probably, too, it was in the open Atlantic, and not sheltering in any of the innumerable inlets of the western coast. He steered due west, noticing as he did so that the pursuers were still doggedly on his trail, and had gained considerably while he had been investigating the harbour.
He looked at his watch. It was twenty-five minutes to nine. He would reach his ship in time if it were not more than eighty-five miles distant, supposing that it was going in the same direction, or perhaps a hundred and ten if it were coming towards him. Rising to the height of 4,000 feet, he searched the sea in all directions through his binocular. He noticed with amusement that one of the pursuing aeroplanes had come down on Mizzen Head; the other was still labouring after him. There were fishing smacks here and there near the coast, looking like moths. Far to the left he saw a liner pouring its black smoke into the air; it might have been a cockroach in widow's weeds. And there, far in the west, what is that? Smoke, or a cloud? In two minutes there is no longer any doubt; in three minutes the shapes of a squadron of battleships can be clearly seen; in five minutes Smith's practised eyes, now that he has descended, can distinguish the Imperturbable, flying the admiral's flag, among what to a landsman would appear to be a dozen exactly similar vessels. Glancing back, he sees that the Red Scout has changed her course, and is already only a speck in the southern sky.
Aeroplane route round the World.
It was precisely ten minutes to nine by Smith's watch when the Puck, literally received with open arms by two-score sturdy tars, alighted on the deck of the Imperturbable.
"Come aboard, sir," said Smith cheerfully to his captain.
"So I see," was the laconic reply.
"Sorry I was away, sir, when your recall arrived—in the South Pacific."
"In the—what?"
"The South Pacific, sir, or thereabouts."
"Don't you think, Mr. Smith, you are going a little too far?" said the captain sternly.
"Well, sir," replied Smith naïvely, "it was a goodish distance. But I have managed to get back within my leave. Ten minutes to spare, sir."
Captain Bolitho gasped.
"Do you mean to tell me, seriously, you have been to the South Pacific?"
"Certainly, sir. I left home about midnight last Thursday, and got back not quite nine hours ago. Went to the Solomon Islands viâ Penang and Port Darwin, and come home viâ Samoa and 'Frisco."
"But—but—then you have been round the world, sir—in how long?"
"Seven days, sir. My leave expires at nine this morning."
Mechanically, like a man in a dream, the captain took out his watch.
"Twenty-five minutes past eight," he said. "You needn't have hurried yourself. You've another half-hour by Irish time. Perhaps you'd like to fill it up by a trip round Ireland," he added dryly.
Smith smiled. The first lieutenant broke in—
"Look-out reports, sir, another aeroplane was sighted behind Mr. Smith's."
The admiral, who had been an amused auditor of the colloquy between Captain Bolitho and his lieutenant, was a man of intuitions.
"There are no aeroplanes on this coast except the two with the Reds," he said. "Mr. Smith, you have now reported yourself for duty. Our single aeroplane has broken down; we must impress yours for public service. I will not ask you what you have seen; but you will at once follow the strange aeroplane, and endeavour to find out the position and course of the enemy's fleet."
In less than a minute Smith was in the air; in ten minutes he had overtaken the Red aeroplane, flying high as he approached, and hovering over his late pursuer, who made vain efforts to rise above him. The immense engine power of the Puck gave her as great an advantage over her rival in soaring as in horizontal speed. By the rules of the manoeuvres the Red aeroplane was out of action as soon as the Puck rose vertically above her. Wasting no further time, Smith continued his course, and in half-an-hour sighted the Red squadron, noted its strength and course, and in another half-hour was back on the deck of the Imperturbable.
"I found the enemy, sir, about ninety miles S.S.E., eight battleships and about a dozen scouts. Their course was west."
The admiral made a rapid calculation.
"By Jove!" he said, "they will catch Pomeroy before we join him. But there's time yet. We can warn Pomeroy to meet us twenty miles north-east of the spot previously arranged. I think, Captain Bolitho, we may perhaps overlook Mr. Smith's little irregularity in joining if he gives us a full account of his—er—experiences, after dinner to-night."
"And the Reds, sir?"
"Before dinner, one or the other of us will be out of action. Whether Reds or Blues, we shall have leisure to hear how Mr. Smith went round the world in seven days."
POSTSCRIPT
The following extracts from the Press, neatly pasted in Kate Smith's scrap book, have a certain historical and romantic interest for the persons concerned, directly or indirectly, in the incidents of the foregoing narrative.
(From Our Own Correspondent.)
CONSTANTINOPLE, Friday.
The appearance of an aeroplane this morning caused a considerable sensation. It descended in the old archery ground of the Sultans, to the terror of the juvenile population that now uses the Ok Meidan as a common playground. It contained two passengers, and though no authentic information is obtainable, it is rumored that the daring and intrepid airmen have made a rapid flight from Berlin, and are proceeding to Persia on a secret mission connected with the Bagdad railway.
(From Our Own Correspondent.)
BOMBAY, Monday.
The natives of the Mekran coast are again showing signs of insubordination. The gunboat Penguin has just come into harbour, and her commander, Captain Durward, reports that on Saturday he discovered a crowd of Baluchis in the act of smuggling arms into an apparently innocent fishing-village. He landed a party of bluejackets half a mile east of the village, and swooped upon it simultaneously with an attack from the sea. The villagers scattered in all directions, but the ring-leaders were captured, together with a large number of rifles and ammunition. The coup reflects the greatest credit on this able and energetic officer.
Later.
The craze for aviation has at last broken out in India. Two airmen made a sudden appearance at Karachi on Saturday, and departed after a brief stay for the interior. They are said to be in the employment of the Nizam of Hyderabad, who is spending vast sums on his latest hobby.
BRISBANE, Monday.
News has just arrived by wireless from the gunboat Frobisher, off Ysabel Island, that the crew of the survey-vessel Albatross, which was wrecked there a fortnight ago, are safe. The party, it will be remembered, includes the famous geologist, Dr. Thesiger Smith. The message is very brief, and a reference it makes to an aeroplane is thought to be an error.—REUTER.
SINGAPORE, Wednesday.
The Penang correspondent of the Free Press telegraphs—"The barque Elizabeth put in to-day in tow of a steamtug of this port, and reported an extraordinary incident in mid-ocean. She was dismasted a fortnight ago in a cyclone south of the Andamans, and while drifting, fire broke out in the forehold, and was kept under with the greatest difficulty. Her plight was discovered and reported here by the driver of an aeroplane who was making a flight in the neighbourhood, and the tug was immediately sent to her assistance. Conflicting rumours are prevalent as to the identity of the aviator in question; Captain Bunce, of the Elizabeth, insists that the airman's name was Smith, but his account is rather confused, and the most generally accepted opinion is that he is an officer of the German navy, which has recently adopted the aeroplane for scouting purposes. On no other supposition can his presence so far from land be accounted for. Owing to the facts that he arrived in the night of Sunday and departed immediately, no trustworthy information is obtainable."—REUTER.
(From Our Own Correspondent.)
TORONTO, Wednesday.
The later editions of the Sphere contain a detailed account of the extraordinary world-flight accomplished by Lieutenant Thesiger Smith of the British navy, which sets at rest the rumours and speculations of the past week. Lieutenant Smith left London last Friday at 12.30 a.m. (Greenwich time), and arrived here this afternoon, descending on the golf links on Scarborough Bluffs. I will wire full particulars later.
(From Our Own Correspondent.)
PARIS, Monday.
The Cross of the Legion of Honour was to-day presented by the President of the Republic to M. Laurent Rodier, who accompanied your Lieutenant Thesiger Smith last month on his adventurous flight around the world. It is understood that the French Government has taken up the remarkable invention due to M. Rodier and his English confrère, and has offered M. Rodier the headship of a new State aeronautical department.
THE NEGLECT OF GENIUS.
To the Editor of the Spectator.
SIR,—The paragraph in the Times of Monday relating to the honour awarded to M. Rodier, suggests sad reflections to a patriotic Englishman. We have not as yet heard that Lieutenant Smith's wonderful achievement has been in any way recognized by our government. Abroad, genius is fostered: here, it is slighted. How long shall such things be?—I am, Sir, etc.,
PRO BONO PUBLICO.
[We have repeatedly declared our hatred of Protection in every shape and form, so that we shall not be misunderstood when we say that we cordially endorse our correspondent's complaint. If the present Government, which in general has our hearty support, devoted as much energy to the cultivation of British Genius as it now devotes to the spoon-feeding of British Industry, we should have less reason to fear the growing menace of Socialism.—ED. Spectator.]
The King has been pleased to confer the honour of knighthood on Lieutenant Charles Thesiger Smith.
R.N. THESIGER-SMITH—BUNCE.—On July 12th, at St. George's, Hanover Square, by the Rev. Canon Montague, uncle of the bridegroom, Sir Charles Thesiger Smith, Captain R.N., elder son of Dr. Thesiger Smith, M.A., F.R.S., to Margaret, only daughter of the late John Bunce, master mariner.
AN AIRMAN'S WEDDING.
An interesting announcement in another column recalls a romance of the air and sea. Sir Charles Thesiger Smith, whose famous flight round the world last year has not yet been repeated, was yesterday married to Miss Margaret Bunce, the lady whom he rescued in mid-ocean from a burning vessel, and carried with him to safety. Many notable people attended to witness the ceremony, and the presents include a gold scarf-pin in the shape of an aeroplane, the gift of the King.