CHAPTER XXII
ALL GOES WELL WITH ENGLAND
With her replenished stock of fuel the battleplane had no difficulty in rising once she was clear of the surface; for, owing to the absence of properly contrived floats and the restricted limit of the beats of her wings, the tips of which could not be dipped into the water without considerable risk, she could not soar at her usual angle. It was only after "taxiing" for nearly two hundred yards that she was able to shake herself clear of the unnatural element.
"Much more of this sort of business and I shall have to modify the design," declared Blake. "Ah, here they are again," he added, indicating the approaching seaplanes.
"Stand by with the guns. I'm going right through them."
With this laudable intention Blake took the battleplane up quite a thousand feet above the altitude of the hostile aircraft, and at full speed tore to meet the hostile seaplanes.
By this time the Huns had learnt of the presence of the battleplane. Recognising her by the beat of the powerful wings they one and all declined combat, and scuttling like a flight of wild duck, made rapid tracks for home.
"That's decided me," declared the imperturbable pilot. "We'll make a short cut for home. O'Rafferty."
"Sir?"
"Send off a wireless to the petrol depot ship. We are within call, I fancy. Tell them not to wait. We have more than enough petrol to take us home."
"Now, Athol," continued Blake, "I'll give you fellows a sight of the Kiel Canal and of Heligoland. I don't suppose any British airman has seen Billy's ditch from the air before."
At an immense altitude the battleplane swung round, crossing the Schleswig-Holstein isthmus at a height of seventeen thousand feet. Unseen—or if she were seen no attempt on the part of the Huns was made to molest her—she glided serenely across to Heligoland Bight, the islands of Heligoland and Sandinsel looking like mere dots in the sea. Then following the chain of Frisian Islands she skirted the Dutch coast on her way south-westwards.
In about nine hours—including the stop for repairs—the battleplane had covered a distance of nearly a thousand miles, and was within half an hour's run of the opposing forces on the Western Front.
Already the airmen could feel a strange rumbling sensation in the rarefied air. It was not the thunder of the guns in Flanders—it was something far louder than that. The concentrated fire of hundreds of enormous allied guns was literally shaking the firmament.
"I know where we are now," declared Blake. "That town we can see ahead is Peronne. By Jove! we're in time to see the 'Big Push,' lads. Look, our line is different from what it was three weeks ago. It's beyond that village—Fricourt, I think is its name."
In vast circles the battleplane volplaned earthwards, the two lads and O'Rafferty surveying the scene of terrific carnage by means of their binoculars.
There was no doubt about it. Our khaki-clad troops, recking not the stubborn resistance of the grey-coated Huns, were pressing forward with bombs and bayonets. All along the line, as far as the limit of vision permitted it to be seen, the lads could mark the irresistible progress of their brave countrymen and the equally gallant French allies. Overhead, although at a considerably lesser altitude, flew swarms of aeroplanes, all bearing the distinctive marks of red, white and blue. Of the Black Cross machines not one was visible. It was an Allies' day with a vengeance.
Unable to take part in the operations for want of previous instructions, Blake manoeuvred the battleplane up and down the changing line of opposing forces. The spirits of the two lads rose to high water mark. They realised that this was the beginning of the end; the set purpose, which after weeks and months of tedious and seemingly wasteful inactivity, was to justify the waiting tactics of the silent Joffre.
Suddenly Athol noticed an ominous movement in our part of the far-flung line. A village, although the buildings were almost levelled by the accurate gunfire of the British, was still being held with the utmost stubbornness by the Huns.
Evidently the enemy had preserved a number of machine guns intact in spite of the terrific hail of shells. The British, pinned to the earth by the terrific machine-gun fire, were unable to advance; while evading the "barrage" of shells, strong reinforcements of Germans were being rushed forward to convert the British check into a defeat—glorious but none the less a set-back that might adversely influence the concentrated operations.
And, with the exception of Blake's battleplane there was no other British machine to warn the infantry of the approach of the German reserves.
"Now for it!" shouted Blake, the glint of battle in his eye. "Let 'em have bombs and flêches when I give the word. Get ready with the automatic guns."
Athol, the end of the ammunition belt already in the breech mechanism, depressed the muzzle of his weapon. O'Rafferty was ready on his part, while Dick stood by to operate the bomb dropping gear, keeping one hand on the lever that would release hundreds of steel darts upon the close columns of German troops.
Like a hawk the battleplane swooped down, descending to less than four hundred feet. Greeted by a terrific fusillade from the rifles of the astonished and demoralised Huns she returned the compliment with interest. Bombs, darts and bullets wrought havoc in the crowded ranks, until the survivors broke and fled, leaving a trail of dead and wounded as they sought a doubtful shelter from the terror of the skies.
Dismayed by the rout of their supports the defenders of the ruined village slackened their fire. Quick to seize the advantage the British troops, with a cheer that could be distinctly heard above the roar of battle, swayed forward on and over the rubble of masonry and carried the position.
This much Athol saw. Then his attention was attracted by a groan. With his head and shoulder resting over the coaming lay Sergeant O'Rafferty, the blood oozing from a bullet wound in his neck. Before Athol could make his way to the sergeant's assistance Blake called to him in an unsteady voice to take the steering-wheel.
"The blighters have got me," he exclaimed. "Plugged through both wrists."
"Dick," shouted his chum. "Bear a hand with the sergeant. He's hit. Sharp as you can, then stand by with the motors."
"We'll have to come down," replied Dick. "Petrol tanks perforated."
Only sufficient fuel for half an hour's run remained before the damage was done; with the precious spirit trickling in a steady stream it was doubtful whether the engines could be kept running more than a few minutes.
Dick, too, did not mention that he had stopped a bullet, which, passing through the fleshy part of his right arm, had rendered that limb useless and was causing him exquisite pain.
Just then the motors coughed and stopped abruptly. Athol was only just in time to grip the steering wheel when the long volplane to earth began.
He attempted to tilt the aerilons. The operating rods responded stiffly to the action of the levers. The movable tips to the wings were firmly locked. Absolute control of the battleplane was no longer possible.
"There'll be a most unholy smash!" muttered the lad between his clenched teeth.
The next instant the battleplane flattened out, not under the influence of the pilot's guidance, but through some freakish aircurrent. Then, before she could gather momentum for her tail-dive she crashed to earth.
Myriads of white lights flashed in front of Athol's eyes, and then everything became a blank.
* * * * *
When Athol recovered consciousness he found himself in a base hospital. By his bedside stood Desmond Blake and Dick, both swathed in bandages.
"How goes it?" asked Athol feebly.
"The battleplane's done for," replied Dick.
"She's done her bit, and for a wonder we're all here to tell the tale."
"But the Big Push?" persisted the lad.
Desmond Blake's features were wreathed in a smile that betokened confidence.
"Don't worry, Athol," he replied. "So far all goes well with the arms of England and France."
THE END
THE LONDON AND NORWICH PRESS LIMITED LONDON AND NORWICH ENGLAND
Transcriber's Notes:
The following misprint has been corrected:
[Hop it and we'll] —> [Hop in and we'll]
[Ammunnition and stores] —> [Ammunition and stores]
[The moniplane's tail rose] —> [The monoplane's tail rose]