CHAPTER XXX
The End of the Rioguayan Air Fleet
Grey dawn revealed the battered Rebound, still steaming stern-foremost, within the wide estuary of the Rio Guaya. Four miles to the west'ard lay her three sister-battleships, with their attendant light cruisers and destroyers, awaiting daybreak before pushing on up the broad river as far as they could without violating the territorial waters of San Valodar and San Benito.
There was a widely expressed hope amongst the officers and crew of the British fleet, that one of these republics would throw in her lot with the enemy. That would leave the admiral a comparatively free hand, since he would no longer be obliged to respect the zone over which either San Valodar or San Benito claimed jurisdiction. As things stood, there was a curious anomaly. The Rioguayan fleet had the right to the free use of the river below Sambrombon Island, although both passages were controlled by neutral states. Until the British fleet could contrive to obtain sanction, they were unable to proceed much farther without causing an international affair which might call for protests from the Powers.
The British air squadron attached to the fleet was also unable to approach Rioguayan territory, owing to the republic's possession of Brian Strong's anti-aircraft rays. On their part the Rioguayan flying-boats were useless against the British fleet, armed as it was with the ray-projecting apparatus.
The only course open, apparently, was to blockade Rioguay by sea, but this promised to be a most unsatisfactory operation. The republic was practically self-supporting; it could still maintain trade with the neighbouring republics despite any active interference on the part of the British navy.
The defeat at sea hardly troubled President Jaime Samuda. It was a regrettable occurrence, from a national point of view, but he still hoped for great things from the powerful aerial armada of the republic. Even if air-power failed, he could still hope that the ineffectual blockade would be maintained until either the British got tired of "watching the mouse-hole", or else became involved in embarrassing complications elsewhere. His own position seemed so secure that never for one moment did President Jaime Samuda think seriously upon the possibility of a revolution.
Corbold and Cavendish had completed their "trick", Their reliefs had taken over and they were on their way below to enjoy a well-earned sleep.
Just as they were about to enter the battery door, there was a shout of "periscope one point on the starboard bow!" For the present, the stern of the ship was considered to be the bows for manoeuvring purposes, consequently the starboard side became the port and vice versa.
The two chums ran to the rail and, leaning out, could discern the object in question at a distance of about two hundred yards from the ship.
There was no time to be lost. The Captain on the bridge had to decide quickly. Checking his first impulse to ram the submarine—he remembered the possibility of having the propeller blades smashed and the rudder buckled—he bore away a couple of points, at the same time ordering the Q.F. guns to open fire.
A moment later he countermanded the order, for a destroyer, observing the pole-like object in the slanting rays of the early morning sun, starboarded helm and charged straight for the periscope.
Her youthful lieutenant-commander, in his zeal, had but one thought—to smash the submarine's hull with the destroyer's knife-like stem before the former could fire her torpedo at the increasingly favourable target that the Rebound was momentarily presenting.
In vain the battleship signalled to her to stand clear and destroy the periscope by means of gunfire and then finish off the blinded submarine with depth-charges. All on the destroyer's bridge had eyes for nothing but the hostile periscope.
The Rebound could do nothing, Already the destroyer was masking her quick-firers. A warning blast from the syren did attract attention, but only when it was too late.
The destroyer's bows hit the periscope fairly and squarely. There was no rending of steel, no release of air and oil from the submarine, for the simple reason that there was no submarine there. The periscope was a dummy, but to it were attached two mines by means of long spans of wire.
Five seconds later, the mines, swung inwards by the strain upon the spans, exploded simultaneously on either side of the destroyer. Before the upheaval of smoke and spray had dispersed, the luckless destroyer had vanished, leaving half a dozen men swimming aimlessly in an ever increasing pool of oil.
Up dashed another destroyer, the survivors were picked up, and the little craft hurried on ahead of the battleship, with paravanes towing in order to detonate any other mines that might be in the vicinity.
The lesson, obtained at a price, was not thrown away. It proved that the Rioguayans had not resolved to defend the river by means of submarines, otherwise they would not have indiscriminately sown mines which would prove a menace not only to the British surface craft but to their own submarines.
"Ain't ours a nappy 'ome?" inquired Cavendish, as the two lieutenants surveyed the remains of their cabins, which before the action had adjoined each other. Now they were knocked into one. That saved the trouble of Cavendish having to open two doors when he wanted to "kag" with his chum; but the removal of the bulkhead did not end the damage. Both cabins had been completely gutted. Although the blackened débris had been cleared away, the nauseating smell of burnt corticene hung about persistently. Scuttles and dead-lights had disappeared, and although the ragged apertures where they had been were covered with iron plates bolted to the side, there was a distressing lack of light and fresh air. Neither officer possessed any clothes other than those he stood up in, and they were showing considerable evidence of the ordeal through which their wearers had passed. Until the Rebound put into port, the chums would have to depend upon the generosity of their brother-officers for the replacement of deficiencies in their wardrobe; and as almost every officer on board had suffered loss of personal gear, there looked like being a stupendous famine in the clothing line before very long.
A visit to the bathroom revealed an equally unsatisfactory state of affairs, no other washing arrangements being available than a metal hand-basin and a meagre supply of cold water.
But in less than ten minutes, Corbold and Cavendish, with most of the dirt and grime removed, were sound asleep on strips of canvas laid upon the floor of their respective cabins.
They were awakened at eight bells (noon) by tremendous rounds of cheering. Officers and crew had fallen in by divisions on the quarter-deck, where a wireless message from the Admiralty was read out, congratulating the fleet on its brilliant achievement.
My Lords had lost no time in broadcasting the news of the victory. There was no halting, beating-about-the-bush wording. The victory was claimed, our losses and those of the enemy given, together with the information that the remnants of the Rioguayan ships were in full flight.
The moral effect of this communiqué was tremendous. It helped materially to settle certain Eastern problems, and that so quickly that the Admiralty were able to order five capital ships with light cruisers and destroyers to leave the Mediterranean for South American waters.
Peter and his chum were too late to hear the Admiralty order read out, but on the cheering dying away the Captain raised his hand for silence.
It was indeed momentous news that followed.
Hondo, a powerful Asiatic State, had suddenly made war on the Associated Republic of America. The navy of the latter had been concentrated on the Pacific coast, but the points raised in the dispute seemed to have been satisfactorily settled. Then the wily Asiatics struck suddenly and struck hard. The Associated Republic's combined squadrons ran full tilt into a mine-field laid off the Mexican coast, Eight of their battleships, four battle-cruisers, and numerous smaller craft were destroyed, and in the confusion that ensued the Hondese submarines followed up the blow by torpedoing another half-dozen big ships. The remainder scattered, some running for the Panama Canal, others making for San Paulo. The latter place was bombarded by Hondese battleships and aircraft, while other aircraft had played havoc with the Pacific ports of the Republic.
Already the Associated Republican Government had applied to Great Britain for aid.
The latest report stated that Great Britain was unable to render assistance, owing to the pressing claims upon her limited navy; but she suggested a conference—a conference, when the Hondese were actively hammering upon the Pacific gate of the Associated Republic!
Having communicated this startling information, the Captain ordered "Pipe down" and the crew dispersed to their various stations to discuss and argue further about the matter.
The general opinion amongst the officers was that the Associated Republic's predicament was Britain's opportunity, as far as Rioguay was concerned. The Monroe Doctrine would become a "wash out". There was nothing to prevent the British admiral sending an ultimatum to the Republic of San Benito demanding right of way through her territorial waters to precisely the same extent as the Rioguayan Republic enjoyed it.
This demand was sent. San Benito acquiesced in a very chastened mood. She had read and accepted the lesson of the Writing on the Wall.
Meanwhile, oil-tankers had replenished the fuel supply of the British warships. The Egmont and Edgcumbe, battle-cruisers, had arrived hot-foot from Malta, and the fleet was now ready to bring President Jaime Samuda to heel.
On the evening before the day fixed for the fleet to ascend the river and attack the batteries and naval port of San Antonio, Peter was keeping middle watch.
All around, in steadily increasing numbers, lay the fleet, silent and vigilant. Not a light was visible, save when a masthead signal lamp winked its message either to or from the "flag". Even the searchlights were screened, since the navigable channel well above the anchorage had been heavily mined against the chance of a surprise attack by hostile submarines. As for the Rioguayan destroyers, these were ruled out of count. Their experience during the battle had so shaken the moral of both officers and men, that they absolutely refused to come out, and had in consequence been ordered by President Jaime Samuda to form a shore-defence corps.
Pacing alertly up and down the bridge, Peter was approached by a yeoman of signals.
"Message from Flag, sir," he reported.
The lieutenant took the signal pad into the chartroom. Then he gave a low whistle.
The sensitive microphones on board the Royal Oak had detected the approach of a large number of aircraft, bearing north-west by north. That meant that, assuming the aircraft were the Rioguayan flying-boats, the hostile forces had made a wide detour and were approaching over San Valodarian territory.
"Now we're going to see something," commented Peter, as he passed the message to a side-boy to convey it to the Skipper.
The rest of the fleet had been simultaneously warned by General Signal. Every searchlight was "running", although carefully screened; and in conjunction with each searchlight was a "Strong" anti-aircraft projector.
As a precautionary measure, the crews of the quick-firers were called to action stations, but already there was sufficient confidence in the rays to warrant the assumption that the forthcoming task would not require the aid of gunnery.
Throughout the darkened fleet an uncanny silence prevailed. The night was starless. There was a flat calm. The conditions for microphone detector work were excellent.
Nearer and nearer came the hostile flying-boats, their direction and distance being so accurately recorded that they derived no advantage by delivering a night attack.
At length the dull rumble of their propellers became faintly audible. In spite of devices calculated to muffle the noise, it was impossible to smother the beats of fifty or sixty aerial propellers working in unison.
"Bearing 55 degrees; elevation 22 degrees," announced the range-finding, officer at the searchlight director station.
Then, fifteen seconds later: "bearing 60 degrees; elevation 25 degrees."
[Illustration: A BLAZE OF DAZZLING BEAMS Page 297]
Not until the elevation increased to 30 degrees were the searchlights to unmask. The period of suspense seemed interminable, although the flying-boats were known to be approaching at well over a hundred miles an hour.
"Bearing 90 degrees," came the level, even tones of the range-finding officer; then in a louder voice that seemed to indicate that a slow job had at last been completed: "Elevation 30 degrees."
Within the space of five seconds, every searchlight of the fleet was flashed obliquely into the darkness. The air was one blaze of dazzling beams, spread fanwise lest any daring and cunning airman should attempt to approach from an independent direction.
Eight miles off could be discerned the almost mathematical formation of the hostile air squadrons. They wavered when the beams fell athwart their path, which was probably owing to the pilots being temporarily blinded by the sudden glare. Then they recovered formation and came on.
A red rocket soared skywards from the flagship. It was the signal to let loose the rays.
To the onlookers it seemed as if a flight of plover had been raked by the heavy charge from a punt-gun. The massed flight broke its ranks. A few of the flying-boats held on, the majority simply nose-dived. A few were crashed into by those following. Others recovered sufficiently to plane down, remorselessly followed by the beam of a searchlight until they dropped helplessly upon the surface of the river.
One by one, those who at first had evaded the blighting rays were "picked up" by the searchlights and compelled to volplane. In less than thirty seconds silence brooded over the now crippled aircraft where a short while before the roar of two hundred powerful engines had rent the air. And within the space of another three minutes fifty flying-boats were either resting upon the water or were lying ten fathoms beneath it, all within a radius of a mile and a half.
Another signal issued from the Royal Oak. A flotilla of fifteen destroyers in double column line ahead swung round under the lee of the battleships and darted towards the paralysed flying-boats.
Not a shot was fired. The Rioguayan airmen refrained because they feared the consequences—the British gunners, because their foes offered no resistance.
With typical imperturbability, the skippers of the various destroyers manoeuvred alongside their prey. The Rioguayans were peremptorily ordered on board and sent below. Then a few blows with a hatchet were sufficient to start the steel plating of the all-metal aircraft and send them to the bed of the river. Out of the fifty flying-boats, five were reserved as prizes. The rest were scuttled, since the British admiral had no means of sending the whole of the captured air fleet into harbour.
It was a glorious triumph for Brian Strong's inventive genius.