CHAPTER XXV
Seaplane and Submarine
Two hours after the shelling of Portsmouth by a Rioguayan submersible cruiser, Southampton was heavily bombarded, presumably by the same craft. Here, the firing was of a more concentrated nature, practically all the projectiles falling in the docks, although an obvious but unsuccessful attempt was made to destroy the Naval Ordnance Magazines at Marchwood. Southampton, however, escaped comparatively lightly—few of its prominent buildings were even damaged, and the toll of human life in the town itself was small. At the docks, too, the loss of life was not great, owing to most of the workers quickly finding cover which proved useful against anything but a direct hit.
Within thirty minutes of this bombardment came telegraphic reports that Plymouth and Devonport were under hostile fire.
The news had barely reached the Admiralty, when telegrams were pouring in from Manchester and Liverpool, reporting that both places had been shelled from an unknown type of craft that had appeared sixteen miles west by north of the Bar Lightship. In this case, the firing lasted only a couple of minutes or so, for on the appearance of an Isle of Man packet-boat the submarine hastily dived. That pointed to the fact that the crew of the submarine were evidently "jumpy", otherwise they would not have dived simply because of a small and unarmed steamer.
. . . . . . . . .
True to his promise, Brian Strong had a complete apparatus ready in the specified time. In the presence of a number of naval experts, the device was submitted for trials.
For the sake of secrecy, the apparatus was placed on the light cruiser Cariad, the vessel with the experts on board being ordered to proceed to a position twenty miles south-east of the Nab tower.
Four modern-type seaplanes from Calshot were detailed to play the part of hostile aircraft. At the time specified, two of them were observed approaching from the nor'-east at an altitude of 2000 feet.
The inventor, feeling far from cool and collected, peered through the telescopic sights. In spite of the fact that the rays had been proved, he was assailed by doubts. Supposing something—a minute adjustment—was in error and the device failed? Or if the current should prove too strong or too weak for the sensitive instrument? He feared failure, not because the apparatus might be defective, but by reason of the ridicule that would be hurled at him.
Slowly, Uncle Brian trained the projector, still hesitating. The nearest seaplane was now a bare two miles away, flying serenely, almost defiantly, in the cloudless sky.
"Three thousand yards," chaunted the range-finding officer.
Some of the experts shrugged their shoulders. The rays were to be released at nine thousand yards. For all they knew, the inventor had done so, but without effect.
At last, with a nervous jerk, Brian Strong depressed the lever actuating the mysterious current. The leading seaplane held on for perhaps five seconds, then like a wounded partridge, it began to dive towards the water. The pilot, retaining his presence of mind, righted his 'bus and allowed her to volplane, until the inventor trained the projector upon the second sea-plane.
At the first sign of the ignition being cut out, the pilot banked steeply. The sudden swerve brought the seaplane outside the invisible beam. The twin motors picked up again.
By this time Brian had recovered his composure. He was again an inventor, sure of himself, and tasting in full measure the joy of achievement, when not a moment before his sensations had been much like those of a nervous schoolboy faced by a tough "paper", and by no means confident of the result. The slightest deflection made it possible for the ray to hold the machine as surely as the spider's web does the enmeshed fly.
Vainly did the accomplished airman attempt to extricate his machine from the numbing influence. Looping, banking, attempting a spinning nose dive, he tried ineffectually to dodge the invisible but none the less paralysing beam, employing all the artifices of a flying man who had won experience in that perilous school—the Great War.
It was a gallant struggle. The seaplane—a mere glider encumbered by the dead weight of a useless pair of engines—was beaten.
The third and fourth shared the same fate, and whilst the four were resting on the water, the inventor demonstrated the effect of playing the ray fanwise. The moment one seaplane "started up" she was rendered powerless by the swift swing of the electric beam. Another and yet another attempted to rise, but hardly had the engines fired when they were reduced to a state of silent impotency.
"That gadget will clip the wings of the Rioguayan air fleet," exclaimed Sir John Pilrig enthusiastically.
"And the Rioguayans will clip ours," added another Admiralty official.
"Precisely," agreed the Deputy Chief of Staff. "That wipes the air menace off the board. Now there are the submarines to be taken into account. Conditions somewhat different from those during the last war. S'pose your rays aren't applicable to underwater craft, Mr. Strong, or have you managed to solve still another problem of modern warfare?"
Brian shook his head.
"'Fraid not, sir," he replied. "But there's no insurmountable difficulty, I take it. A submarine's electrical engines ought to be 'shorted' by the rays. The difficulty appears to me to be the non-adaptability of water to the conditions of a concentrated current."
"Meanwhile, we just carry on," rejoined Sir John. "After all, we didn't do so badly with depth-charges and hydrophones.... That will do, Captain Parr," he continued, addressing the Commanding-Officer of the cruiser. "There is no need for further trials. Will you please have a signal sent to the seaplanes to that effect? They can part company and return to Calshot."
The four aircraft began "taxi-ing" into the wind, prior to "taking off". To do so, they had to pass to wind'ard of the Cariad, and, when at a sufficient altitude, turn and retrace their course.
"Wireless telephone message, sir!" reported the Yeoman of Signals to the Captain of the Cariad. "Sea-plane reports submarine approaching within one thousand yards of ship. Request instructions."
"Port eight," ordered the owner, with the idea of turning the cruiser so that her stern, instead of her broadside, should present itself to a possible foe. "Any of our submarines out?" he demanded of the Officer of the Watch.
"None, sir," was the prompt reply. "All submarines of the Portsmouth Division were to use the Needles Channel."
"Then heaven help me if she's one of ours," exclaimed the Captain grimly. "By Jove, won't it make 'em jump!"
He indicated a group of Admiralty experts, both naval and civilian, gathered round Brian Strong's gadget on the quarter-deck.
Sir John smiled.
"They'd jump still more if a tinfish got us," he added.
The seaplane had already been given orders to attack. It was indeed a lucky chance that she had left Calshot under active service conditions. In addition to two torpedoes designed for use against surface craft, she was equipped with four delayed-action bombs, each capable of being set to explode at any depth between four and twenty-four fathoms.
It was with weapons of the latter type that the seaplane was about to deal drastically with her submerged foe.
The latter was the submersible cruiser that had recently bombed Portsmouth and Southampton. She was now proceeding up-channel intent upon causing a little annoyance at Dover.
Unfortunately for her, she was unaware of the presence of the seaplanes; but she had spotted the slowly moving Cariad and had marked her down for an easy prey.
The light cruiser had swung gently through eight points of the compass. Captain Parr had purposely refrained from ordering increased speed lest the submarine might "smell a rat". On her part, the Rioguayan craft was not able to gain on the cruiser, but was hanging on in the hope that the Cariad would again alter helm and thus present a target that was almost impossible to be missed by the deadly torpedo. During the conversation between Sir John Pilrig and the Captain of the Cariad, Brian Strong had rejoined Peter, who had been closely questioned by the experts concerning the anti-aircraft device.
In complete ignorance of the presence of the Rioguayan submarine, the group of experts transferred their attention to the seaplane that had detached herself from her consorts and was now hovering in wide circles over the clearly-defined hull of her lawful prey.
A dark object dropped from the fuselage, quickly followed by another, their impact with the water throwing up a tall column of spray.
"What is that fellow doing?" began Uncle Brian, but before he could complete the sentence a muffled roar shook the air. A thick cloud of greasy black smoke shot up, mushroom-shaped... the rush of subsiding water hurled high above the normal surface deadened the long-drawn-out reverberations of the explosion.... The Cariad rolled lazily to the wash caused by the violent displacement of hundreds of tons of water.
It seemed an interminable time before the straight snout and the net-cutting device of the Rioguayan submersible rose for a brief interval above the pool of oil—sufficient for the Cariad to establish the certainty that the craft was not a British one.
The submarine had been hit right aft, the explosion completely shattering the hull abaft the Diesel-engine room. The for'ard portion was, however, still practically intact.
The Cariad's engines were stopped. Captain Parr was seemingly in no hurry to take his ship from that forbidding spot. Nor did he close in order to drop a mark-buoy over the wreckage.
A quarter of an hour had passed. The seaplanes, their work accomplished, were out of sight. The light cruiser still lingered. At the microphone apparatus a grave-faced watch-keeping lieutenant was listening, and not listening in vain, for auricular evidences of what was taking place within the as yet water-tight sections of the submersible.
Suddenly the muffled roar of a second explosion, of lesser magnitude than that of the first, was borne to the ears of the watchers on the cruiser's deck and superstructure. A thin cloud of vile-smelling smoke filtered through the agitated waves and drifted athwart the Cariad.
The Deputy Chief of Staff turned inquiringly to Captain Parr. His hands were trembling perceptibly and his tanned features had assumed a greyish hue.
"Well?" he inquired laconically.
"Done themselves in, poor wretches," replied the owner. "They've detonated the warhead of one of their torpedoes.... Either that or a lingering death."
The Captain turned to order speed for fifteen knots. Sir John left the bridge and made his way to the quarter-deck to rejoin his colleagues.
"That apparatus of yours, Mr. Strong," he observed in level tones, "is perfectly satisfactory. How many can you guarantee within a fortnight?"
He paused and laid his hand upon Brian's masterpiece.
"If only you could adapt it for submarine work," he continued, "you would become the greatest humanitarian of the decade—of the century. There would be none of that brutal business we've just witnessed.... Fifty in a fortnight, Mr. Strong? Excellent! Carry on, and let's have the goods."