CHAPTER XXI
Good Old Hamerton!
Smith's first act was to put the helm hard down, but so fierce was the wind and so stunning the blows of the steep, crested waves that the yacht soon lost way. She wallowed sluggishly in the trough of the sea, cascades of water pouring over her on all sides. A crash, just audible above the roar of the elements, announced that one of the panes of the cabin skylight had been broken.
"Up with the mizen!" shouted the skipper.
There was no time to reef the sail. Staggering upon the wedge-shaped part of the deck abaft the mizen-mast, Smith tore frantically at the sail-tyers, while the boom charged to and fro with the force of a sledge-hammer as far as the scope of the sheet permitted.
Wellnigh breathless he regained the cockpit.
"Haul up!" he bawled.
Flapping with a series of whip-like cracks the stout canvas was hoisted. The men expected every moment to see the sail split asunder and the mast go bodily over the side. It was with feelings of relief that they saw the sorely pressed craft swing round head to wind without the threatened calamities taking place.
"We're all right for a bit," gasped Smith. "Where's the Boxer?"
As he spoke a searchlight flashed out of the darkness. For a few moments it swung in a more or less horizontal direction, as far as the erratic motion of the destroyer permitted; but as soon as the beam fell upon the Diomeda the light was immediately screened.
"They've picked us up," said Stirling. "They'll stand by us."
Again the searchlight threw out its rays, and to the astonishment of both men they saw revealed the British destroyer less than a quarter of a mile away. In the brilliant light the Boxer could be seen plugging her bows into the vicious waves. The spindrift was flying high over her four squat funnels, cascades of foam were pouring from her fo'c'sle deck, while, owing to the greatly reduced speed, she was rolling like a barrel.
Then the mysterious searchlight vanished, leaving Smith and his comrade blinking in the darkness.
"What vessel was that?" asked Stirling.
"Hanged if I know and hanged if I care," replied Smith. "Where's that lamp? There's the Boxer signalling."
Throughout the whole of the hazardous period the flashing lamp in the cockpit was still intact. Bracing himself against the swaying mizen-mast the skipper of the Diomeda replied by a few short flashes.
Slowly and deliberately the message was flashed from the destroyer, for the naval men knew that the average yachtsman is more or less of a duffer at Morse signalling.
"Ride to sea-anchor if you have one. Keep your lights burning; traffic about. Will stand by you."
"I understand," was Smith's reply, after the message had been roughly jotted down and transcribed by the aid of a codebook.
Within ten minutes the yacht was riding to her sea-anchor. The motion, as compared with the straining and plunging while under tow, was fairly easy, and after lashing an awning over the broken skylight the crew of the Diomeda were able to "stand easy".
"I'm sorry I snapped you up," remarked the skipper slowly.
"Didn't know that you did."
"But I did. Don't you remember my saying something about being hanged if I cared, when you asked me what vessel that was that was flashing her searchlight?"
"After all, it was a silly question," rejoined Stirling. "How could you be expected to know any more than I should?"
"I believe I do know, though," asserted Smith. "Look away on our port hand. Do you see those patches of misty light on the sky?"
"Well?"
"They're searchlights playing on the clouds. Evidently the Heligoland torpedo flotilla are engaged in night manoeuvres; to me it seems like a trial of aircraft versus submarines and destroyers."
"And the vessel that turned her searchlight on the Boxer? She wasn't sky hunting?"
"No; not just then. You see, she spotted the navigation lights of the Boxer and the Diomeda, and was naturally curious. But there she goes!" As Smith spoke a narrow ray of light flashed vertically upwards at apparently less than two miles away to the southward. Then, describing an ever-widening spiral, the beam searched the clouds for a considerable time, till, having satisfied herself that the object which she was in search of was not within range of the searchlight, the foreign warship screened the light and made off.
"Let's get below; it's fairly habitable," suggested Stirling. "I'm mighty hungry; and even these oilskins seem to strike cold."
"Very well; you go," was the reply. "I'll stick here till daybreak. It can't be much longer, and I fancy the wind is dropping a lot."
"It is, but it was thick while it lasted. We must have struck the tail-end of a summer hurricane." With that Stirling went below, divested himself of his oilskins, and proceeded to mop up the salt water from the cabin floor. This done he made coffee, handing out a cup to his comrade in the cockpit.
"How goes it?" he asked.
"Dawn's breaking; seas going down rapidly," replied the skipper optimistically. "The searchlights haven't been showing for the best part of half an hour."
"Boxer still standing by, I hope?"
"Rather. I can just see her outlines against the sky. It will be quite light in twenty minutes."
As soon as the grey light in the north-eastern sky was strong enough to enable things to be seen with sufficient clearness the Boxer bore up to leeward of the yacht. By means of a megaphone the lieutenant-commander shouted to Smith to get the sea-anchor aboard, and prepare to be taken in tow.
This, by reason of the sea that was still running fairly high, was a difficult task, and by the time the yacht was again wallowing astern of the destroyer it was a quarter to five.
For the next two hours good progress was made. Almost momentarily the waves grew calmer, so that the Boxer was able without undue risk to her charge to increase speed to twelve knots. Never before had the stanch old yacht travelled at that rate. Her following wave was a sight to behold, towering and threatening to break inboard over her pointed stern, yet never able to overtake her. After the night of anxiety both men found the motion most exhilarating, and there was every chance of sighting Old England's shores well before noon.
Suddenly Stirling grasped his companion's arm, then pointed to an object well above the skyline on the starboard bow.
"Where's the telescope?" asked Smith. "I believe it's an airship."
With some difficulty, owing to the motion of the yacht, the skipper got the glass to bear.
"It is," he affirmed. "And a thundering big one."
"One of ours?"
"I don't think so. The British ones show a dull yellow or light brown with the sun shining on them. This chap's a peculiar shade of grey. I'll semaphore to the Boxer and ask if they've spotted her."
But before Smith could get the two hand-flags from the signal locker the destroyer's gunner, followed by three seamen, came running aft.
Steadying himself by the wire rail, the warrant-officer raised a megaphone to his lips.
"We're going to cast you adrift,"' he shouted. "Make sail and steer sou'-sou'-west. There's a foreign airship in difficulties. We're off to investigate. Will return and pick you up later."
"Aye, aye," shouted Smith. "What nationality is she?"
The gunner shook his head and tapped the megaphone suggestively. Without its aid conversation was inaudible.
Hardly had Smith cast off the hawser and the crew of the Boxer gathered it aboard when the destroyer set off at full speed in order to intercept the drifting airship.
Having set staysail, jib, and mizen, the skipper of the Diomeda shaped a course as indicated by the Boxer, while Smith's telescope was brought into constant use by one or the other of the crew.
"She's descending," announced Stirling. "By Jove, she'll fall into the sea in a minute—no, she's steady. They have evidently emptied the water-ballast tanks. Here, you take the telescope."
The Boxer had apparently come within the proper distance of the airship, for although it was almost an impossibility to gauge relative distances through a telescope, Stirling could see the destroyer circling to starboard.
"They've got a line on board," he declared excitedly. "The airship is turning head to wind. The Boxer is returning. I say, what luck for the Westminster Daily Record! 'Exciting salvage of a Zeppelin by a British destroyer in the North Sea—by our Special Correspondent.' How will that look?"
"I shall be able to look the better if you'll kindly hand me the telescope," said Smith grimly. "Thanks! I am a rotter though. If I had only had the forethought to bring a camera—can't be helped. She's badly damaged, I can see. No one on board. Yes, there is, by Jove. There's a fellow in a greatcoat standing just in front of the midship car, or whatever they call it."
Nearer and nearer came the destroyer, with the Zeppelin straining and seesawing at the end of a hawser against the fairly stiff breeze. Presently the semaphore on the Boxer's bridge began to work.
As soon as Smith made the acknowledgment he seized a pencil and jotted down the movements of the signal arms; then by the aid of a diagram in the signal book he deciphered the message.
"Carry on under sail. Cannot take you in tow. Have sent by wireless to Harwich for assistance."
"I understand," replied the Diomeda's skipper by semaphore; then taking up the telescope he directed it towards the airship.
[Illustration: "'GREAT SCOTT!' HE EXCLAIMED; 'IT'S HAMERTON'">[
The Zeppelin was now less than half a mile off. By the aid of the glass Smith could see the solitary figure on the suspended platform.
"Great Scott," he exclaimed, "it's Hamerton!"
"Never!"
"Fact. I can see him as plain as a pikestaff."
"Hurrah!" shouted Stirling. "Now what price the German Government's explanations? And, old man, what a scoop! The Westminster first, the rest nowhere. Good Old Hamerton!"