For some reason, possibly on account of information received of possible enemy action at sea, the train-boat was ordered to stand fast, while a telegraph message was received, ordering Second-Lieutenant Daventry to proceed to an aerodrome in Sussex, and to fly a large battleplane across to an aviation camp near Etaples.
"This is some luck," thought Derek; for the opportunity of flying across to France was one that he had yearned for; and, accordingly, he left his kit to be sent across by boat, and took train to the point of his aerial departure.
The battleplane was a brand new machine that had just been delivered from the manufacturers. It had gone through its trials, and, owing to the serious nature of the military situation on the Amiens front, was urgently required for the purpose of checking the Hun offensive.
Besides Derek as pilot, the machine carried a crew of four—observer, mechanic, and two gunners. With a wing-spread that far out-classed the celebrated Dromedary, and possessing motors of nearly twice the horse-power, the GV 7—such being the official designation of the biplane—was capable of a one-thousand-two-hundred-mile flight without having to alight for petrol.
It was, indeed, a formidable type of battleplane. Portions of the fuselage—especially the underside—were armoured with nickel steel sufficient to resist fragments of anti-air-craft shells, while ample protection was afforded to the crew. Short of a direct hit, or the smashing of a wing or tail, the machine was able to bear a severe gruelling without becoming hors de combat. Being of an entirely novel and formidable type, it was considered to be far and away a match for any air-craft that, up to the present, the Hun possessed.
It was within two hours of sunset when Derek started on his maiden cross-Channel trip. A steady north, or following wind gave every indication of holding, while an almost cloudless sky betokened a continuance of fine weather.
With her full crew and equipment, the GV 7 "took-off" magnificently, the enormous fabric answering quickly to the controls. Compared with the old Dromedary, with its short wing-spread and stumpy fuselage, the battleplane was as a battleship is to a cruiser. There was an almost complete freedom from lack of space, which contributed in no small degree to comfort, although all controls were within easy distance of the pilot.
Before the machine was over the English coast, an altitude of seven thousand feet was attained. In the clear atmosphere, the low cliffs of France were clearly discernible. It seemed as if a small silvery streak of water—which to the ordinary traveller to the Continent is an object of dread—was a very negligible quantity. By air, Great Britain and France, one-time sworn foes, were to be united in a bond of mutually self-sacrificing friendship.
GV 7 proved herself to be an exceptionally rapid climber, rising at a steep angle without evincing any tendency towards side-splitting. As steady as a rock, she settled down to her flight across the silvery streak of the English Channel, and, although throttled down, her speed was not far short of ninety miles an hour.
Within five minutes of passing over the coastline, the observer called Derek's attention to a mere speck on the waters. By the N.C.O.'s manner, it was evident that something was amiss.