CHAPTER XI
THE FATE OF A SPY
"All out, Dick," shouted Blake, at the same time coupling up the wing mechanism. Sergeant O'Rafferty, springing to the after machine-gun, swung the weapon upon the nearmost of the German troops. As he did so a ragged volley greeted him, the bullets either passing through the aluminium covering of the chassis or else whizzing harmlessly overhead.
With her wings beating the air with tremendous force the battleplane drew clear of Mother Earth. Four or five Germans, rushing forward, clung desperately to the framework of the landing wheels, amongst them the Hun who had so successfully posed as a Belgian officer.
Unfortunately for them they had totally under-estimated the lifting power of the mechanical bird. Blinded by the cloud of dust thrown up by the flapping of the huge wings and deafened by the roar of the exhaust—for Dick had opened the cut-out in order to give the motors full play—the Germans were unable to realise that their efforts to keep the battleplane pinned to the ground were unavailing.
Although the machine rose rapidly it lacked the speed that it usually attained. Powerfully engined as she was the battleplane could not ignore the additional weight of five burly Brandenburgers.
"Motors running well, Dick?" asked Blake, shouting to make himself heard above the terrific din.
"Splendidly now," replied the lad.
"Then see what's dragging her," continued the pilot, whose whole attention had to be centred upon the steering of the machine.
Dick made his way to the still open hatchway in the floor of the fuselage. He was hardly prepared for the sight that met his gaze.
Three Germans were astraddle of the horizontal girders supporting the legs of the landing-wheels. Another had thrown arms and legs round an upright and was bellowing lustily. The treacherous Hun who, under the name of Etienne Fauvart, had all but succeeded in capturing the secret battleplane, was clambering up the lattice work, with his revolver hanging from his teeth by means of the lanyard. Dick promptly shut the sliding hatch and made his way to his superior officer.
"We've a fine crew of Huns hanging on," he reported. "Five of them, and that skunk Fauvart in addition. I'd like to get hold of him and find out what's happened to Athol."
"In that case we should have to make a prisoner of him," replied Blake grimly. "No; he'll pay for his treachery now. I don't believe in prolonging the agony. Pass the word to Sergeant O'Rafferty to hold on tightly. And, please, muffle the exhaust. We'll alarm every Bosch within ten miles of us."
Directly the motors were silenced a deafening concussion was heard close to the underside of the chassis. A shrapnell shell, one of many, had just exploded. Some of the bullets perforated the wings or pinged harmlessly against the armoured plating of the fuselage. Two of the Huns, struck by flying fragments of metal, relaxed their grip and fell through space on their long journey to the ground three thousand feet below.
"All ready?" shouted Blake warningly.
The battleplane tilted abruptly and made a complete loop. In five seconds she had regained her normal flying trim, but without the treacherous German and his compatriots. They, unable to retain their hold under the sudden change of direction, were hurtling earthwards, their despairing screams still ringing in the ears of the horrified Dick.
But other work was on hand to distract the lad's mind from the act of retribution. Desmond Blake's searching glance had discerned the roofs of four large sheds almost hidden between the trees, the roofs being mottled so as to resemble as closely as possible the characteristics of the surrounding verdure.
Rising to such a height that there was little danger from a direct hit from the "Archibalds," the battleplane hovered over her objective, spiralling in sharp curves so that the limit of her flight brought her well within the perpendicular distance of her quarry.
At the order Sergeant O'Rafferty dropped two bombs in quick succession. The first, striking the ground close to the edge of the clearing, exploded with terrific violence, felling huge trees like ninepins and literally pulverising the nearmost shed. Almost simultaneously the second bomb alighted fairly in the centre of another Zeppelin house. A stupendous explosion followed, a blast of lurid flame leaping skywards, and rending the gloom of twilight like the concentrated flash of a dozen fifteen-inch guns. The roar of the detonation was appalling. The battleplane, under the influence of the far-reaching up-blast, shook like an aspen leaf, and fell vertically through a distance of nearly five hundred feet before the resistance of the wings restored her equilibrium.
The appalling nature of the work of destruction so overwhelmed the men at the anti-aircraft guns that they ceased firing. Undisturbed the battleplane continued circling, although at a much lower altitude, her crew examining the results of the bombs with studied leisure.
When most of the smoke had cleared away, although portions of the wreckage still burned furiously, it was seen that there was no necessity to drop more bombs. Not a single shed was left standing. Gaunt skeletons of destroyed Zeppelins reared their bent and twisted aluminium ribs betwixt the gaping metal sheets that a few minutes previously had concealed some of the latest types of the Kaiser's air-raiders.
"Shall we give them another, just for luck, sir?" asked Sergeant O'Rafferty.
"Not necessary," replied Blake, as he turned the battleplane in the direction of a faint yellowish path of light upon the horizon—the last vestige of declining day. "Lock the bomb-dropping gear, sergeant."
O'Rafferty hastened to obey, but by pure accident his foot slipped and came in contact with the disengaging pedal. Eleven seconds later came the crash of the exploding bomb.
"Sorry, sir," exclaimed the sergeant apologetically.
"Let's hope it isn't wasted," rejoined Blake, ordering the motors to be run "all out."
In the darkness the battleplane passed high above the opposing lines of trenches, their outlines rendered distinctly visible by the flashes of rapid rifle and machine gun fire, and the occasional glare of star-shells, punctuated by the high-explosive projectiles.
"Give them a call up, sergeant," ordered the pilot.
O'Rafferty brought the wireless into use, unwinding eighty feet of "aerial" that trailed behind the swiftly-moving battleplane. In answer to the message a blaze of electric arc lamps appeared upon the flying-ground.
Almost before the sergeant had wound in the aerial the battleplane was ready for her earthward glide. Flattening out to a nicety she landed within twenty feet of the door of the hangar, and was immediately surrounded by a throng of eager flying men.
"Instructions have been carried out, sir," reported Blake to the Wing Commander. "Three, possibly four, Zepps have been destroyed."
"Any casualties?" asked the commander.
"Mr. Hawke missing, and believed a prisoner, sir. We had to make an involuntary landing, and were rushed by a German patrol. In the circumstances no attempt at rescue was possible."
"And where is Lieutenant Fauvart?" continued the Wing Commander.
Desmond Blake smiled grimly.
"You palmed off a dud on us, sir," he reported, "so we dropped him. I don't think he crashed more than a couple of thousand feet, but it was quite enough to cause the German Intelligence Staff to lose one of their pet stars."