The Air Patrol: A Story of the North-west Frontier

by Herbert Strang

Bob flew straight for the camp, and when he came above its centre he began to circle round and round with the object of getting a clear and orderly idea of its nature. Observation from the great height to which he had risen was not easy, and the necessity of keeping part of his attention upon the aeroplane was a drawback. Naturally he could not entrust the machine to Fazl, who was making his first flight. On the other hand the Gurkha, who was wholly without nervousness, could devote himself entirely to the task of observing. Thus, combining what Fazl reported with what he was himself able to see, Bob obtained in the course of twenty minutes a pretty good notion of the disposition of the camp and the various movements that were going on.

To the north, a large body of horsemen, who were exercising when he first caught sight of them, came to a halt, and were evidently intent on watching the flying machine. Still farther northward, long trains of primitive ox wagons were lumbering towards the camp, with a caravan of camels here and there. Attached to the body of cavalry on the plain there were no fewer than six batteries of field artillery. There was no regular road into or out of this solitary region, but from the appearance of the ground it was clear that the army had reached its present position from the north-west. There was a narrower and fainter track leading from the camp in the direction of the valley--no doubt the route followed by the men now posted on the river bank.

It was inevitable that the sight of the aeroplane, wheeling over the encampment in regular circles, should arouse lively curiosity and excitement among the throngs of men below. Its appearance was greeted at first with shouts either of surprise or alarm. Bob had twice made the circuit before any action was taken: apparently the spectators had not made up their minds as to the nature of this strange visitor, or were waiting for orders. But as he began to circle for the third time a change came over the scene. His systematic movements forced upon the men the notion that he was scouting, spying upon them; and as soon as this was realized they came to the conclusion that he was an enemy who must be dealt with. At first there were a few scattered shots; then regular volleys; at last an almost continuous crackle of musketry. By this time Bob had discovered all that was possible from his altitude, and feeling that nothing was to be gained by running risks, he decided to swing round and head for the valley.

The marksmanship of the enemy's riflemen had not been such as to alarm him hitherto; but it was a different matter when, soon after he turned, the aeroplane became the target of one of the field batteries. Hearing the deeper crack of two of the guns, he instantly steered to the left, to gain a minute's grace while the guns were being trained in the new direction. No third shot was fired; the gunners evidently recognized that the odds were all against their hitting him. At the same time a troop of horse who had started at a gallop in pursuit reined up; since the guns were ineffectual it was not worth while chasing him on the chance of a sudden mishap bringing him to the ground.

Another five minutes brought him to the entrance of the valley. He still maintained a great height until he had passed over the encampment on the lull-side; then, instructing Fazl to wave the red handkerchief as they flew over the bridge, he executed a steep vol plané down to the neighbourhood of the rocks held by Lawrence and the Pathans. It went altogether against the grain to skim over the open space without landing; but he knew that he could not have done so without becoming the mark for hundreds of bullets. No other course was open to him than to adhere to the plan already arranged with Lawrence, and sweep on up the gorge towards the mine.

Another cheer greeted him from the little party below. All, then, was still well with them. Accepting the signal of the red flag, Lawrence would now withdraw his men, and hasten up the track as swiftly as possible. No doubt he would get a mount behind one of the Pathans. That pursuit by the enemy would be doubly difficult Bob recognized when he noticed--what had escaped his observation as he flew down-stream--that the handrail of the bridge had now disappeared. There was no means of crossing the river at this point. He supposed that Lawrence, during the night, had taken the precaution to cut the rope. This was reassuring; it seemed to show that Lawrence, though without military training and, as he himself had said, without military instincts, yet was possessed of readiness and common sense, qualities of much value both to soldiers and civilians.

At the same time Bob was rather loth to leave his brother to deal with the enemy alone, in case they managed in some unimaginable way to cross the river. He felt tempted to land somewhere within a few miles of the bridge, and return on foot to take command of the party. But on second thoughts this seemed to him a short-sighted policy. Though he could not conceive that this army corps was directed against the Appleton mine, the situation clearly demanded that he should return and assist in completing the havildar's arrangements for the defence. The capture of the mine might be regarded by the enemy as a trifling exploit by the way. It was particularly important that the large force of Kalmuck miners should be disposed of. They, if they realized the position, held the key of the situation. There was little doubt that with a sudden rush they could scatter the few Pathans now left at the mine, in the teeth of the Sikh garrison. They would then be able to cut off the retreat of Lawrence and his party, trapped between the Kalmuck miners and their countrymen advancing up the valley. It was imperative, then, that he should get back to the mine as quickly as possible, and his uneasiness at leaving Lawrence was partially removed when, a dozen miles from the bridge, he met the party of Pathans whom he had dispatched overnight. Yet, if he could have foreseen the events of the next few hours, he would have cast to the winds all questions of policy, and risked a descent.

As he flew over the bridge, there had been nothing, except the broken rope, to indicate that any change had taken place in the situation since he left the spot on the previous evening. But Lawrence, during the hours of darkness, had in fact passed through the most exciting experience of his life.

When Bob sailed away up the gorge, and as soon as the humming of his propeller could no longer be heard, Lawrence began to carry out his instructions for the night. He felt no little anxiety; indeed, it was a trying position for a lad who found himself, for the first time in his life, faced with difficulties and dangers for which he had had no preparation. But after all, it is character that tells. Lawrence was naturally cool and level-headed; he had been known at school as a "sticker" at cricket; he could wear out half-a-dozen bowlers. His school had taught him lessons of self-reliance, and though he had never been very enthusiastic in the cadet corps, he had won the mark of efficiency, could shoot straight, and had learnt to think quickly and act with promptitude. So, in spite of a natural nervousness, he saw quite clearly what he had to do, and had grit enough to make up his mind to do it.

He stationed two men behind the rocks near the bridge head, ordering them to fire if they saw the least sign of an attempt to cross. They were to be relieved every two hours. Mindful of Bob's advice, he determined to keep watch all night himself: there was no one to relieve him. Very soon, as night settled deep upon the valley, he began to feel the cold, and thought regretfully of the thick coat lying on his seat in the aeroplane. After the fatigues and wearing anxieties of the day he was not in a condition to face the added strain of a long vigil in the freezing air. He had great difficulty in keeping awake, and when one of the Pathans lent him a saddle cloth in which to wrap himself, he soon discarded it, lest the deceitful warmth should overcome his watchfulness.