Chapter XXXVI: The Elusive Objective

"By Jove! old man," exclaimed Kirkwood, "we're up against a big thing to-morrow."

Billy Barcroft merely nodded. It was "a big thing," this impending movement. Something that was well worth the risk, but at the same time the chances of the participators in the business returning were very remote.

The two chums were pacing the port side of the quarter-deck of the "Hippodrome"--a long and comparatively narrow space betwixt the rise of the deck-houses and the stern, and separated from the corresponding part on the starboard side by the inclined launching platform.

The seaplane-carrier was lying in a certain East Coast harbour, with steam raised ready to proceed at a moment's notice, and although her destination was supposed to be a strict secret, the nature of the forthcoming operations was known to all on board.

It was nothing less than a raid on Cuxhaven, where a considerable portion of the German High Seas Fleet was known to be "resting" after a speculative but cautious cruise off the west coast of Jutland, the object being twofold--to exercise the crews and to impress upon the incredulous Danes the fact that the fleet of the Black Cross Ensign were willing and anxious to meet the British navy.

With their U-boats well out to sea, their ocean-going torpedo-boats forming a far-flung screen, and Zeppelins hovering overhead, the Hun "capital ships" had steamed in and out, keeping within their protective mine-fields: Having accomplished this imposing evolution the battleships of the fleet returned, part going to Cuxhaven, the rest to Wilhelmshaven, while the bulk of the torpedo flotillas anchored off the east side of Heligoland.

Once more the German Press had burst forth into a panegyric on the invincible and undaunted prowess of the fleet of the Fatherland, taking good care to impress upon the people that, although every opportunity had been offered to the British to engage in battle, the challenge had been declined.

The projected raid upon Cuxhaven was a reply to the Huns' empty boast. The seaplane carriers "Hippodrome," "Arena," "Cursus" and "Stadium," escorted by light cruisers and destroyers, were to proceed to a rendezvous twenty miles west of Heligoland. Sixty miles away the British battle cruisers were to "standby," ready, at a wireless call for assistance, to tear off at full speed to the succour of the small craft should the latter, regarded as an easy prey, be attacked by the big-gun ships of the German navy.

At the first blush of dawn twenty seaplanes were to start from their parent ships on their perilous flight over the Heligoland Bight and drop their powerful bombs upon the naval port of Cuxhaven--a feat that, knowing the formidable anti-aircraft defences, promised to be a forlorn hope; yet there was the keenest competition amongst the airmen of the fleet to participate in the "grand stunt."

The A.P. had carried out his promise to Barcroft. He had sold Billy the deeds of Mrs. Deringhame's house at Alderdene, and the flight-sub had sent them anonymously to Betty's mother.

It was a tremendous financial sacrifice on Billy's part. It had practically wiped up the bulk of his capital, but Barcroft cared not one jot for that. What troubled him was the fact that he could not ask Betty to marry him on his meagre pay. He had very little doubt but that the girl would do so, for during his last leave he had been much in her company.

"It wouldn't be fair to Betty," he soliloquised. "I must rake in some more cash, but goodness only knows how long it will take. One thing, we are both young, or I'm hanged if I would have the nerve to ask her to wait! Well, if this raid comes off successfully it will mean promotion. That's one blessing. If it doesn't--well, Billy Barcroft won't be in a position to worry about anything, I guess."

The flight-sub had completed his preparations. Two letters, one to his parents and one to Betty Deringhame, had been written, sealed and handed to the fleet-paymaster to be forwarded in the event of the writer's death. This unpleasant but necessary business performed, Barcroft dismissed the matter from his mind and concentrated his thoughts and energies on the work in hand.

"All correct, Jones?" he asked, addressing the air-mechanic who was putting the finishing touches to the seaplane that was to carry Barcroft and Kirkwood on their adventurous flight.

"All correct, sir," was the reply. "I've advanced the spark a trifle, sir she ought to simply buzz; but perhaps you'll see that everything's to your satisfaction."

Carefully Billy tested his controls, examined unions, contact breaker, and automatic lubricators. Success depended upon motor efficiency almost as much as upon the skill and courage of the pilot. The slightest hitch might spell disaster.

"There's the permission to part company," announced Kirkwood as a signal, made in response to a display of bunting from the yard-arms of the respective seaplane-carriers, was hoisted from the naval signal station. "Wonder if I'll see Old England again," he added in an undertone.

Already the cruisers were steaming out of harbour; not in the pomp of pre-war days with guards drawn up on the quarter-deck and bands playing as each vessel passed the flagship. Silent and grim, huge emblems of seapower, they glided past the harbour batteries and, increasing speed to twenty-two knots, were soon out of sight.

With destroyers preceding and following, the four seaplane-carriers were next to leave. On gaining the open sea they formed line abreast, surrounded by their vigilant escort; the light cruisers, reducing speed to that of the convoy, taking up station two miles astern.

In this formation the flotilla reeled off knot after knot without incident, until late in the evening, when two of the destroyers on the "Hippodrome's" starboard beam began a rapid fire that lasted nearly five minutes, breaking station and circling in a fashion that recalled the preliminary manoeuvres of a pair of cautious boxers.

"U-boat, somewhere over there," commented Fuller, who with Barcroft and the A.P. was on deck in preference to the somewhat boisterous ward-room. "I don't think they've got her. Wonder if she's dived and avoided the cordon. If so we'll have to look out."

"Hope she won't bag us at this stage of the proceedings," said Kirkwood. "At any rate, our quick-fires are manned, and it will be dark in another half-hour."

The two destroyers had resumed station, having signalled to the effect that no definite result was observed but it was believed that the U-boat's periscopes had been smashed by gun-fire.

"The trouble will come later, I think," said Barcroft when the message was communicated to the "Hippodrome's" officers. "If she isn't winged she'll rise to the surface after we're out of sight and wireless the news to the Heligoland signal station. The mere mention of seaplane carriers will put the Huns on the _qui vive_. However, that can't be helped; I'm turning in, you fellows, and I advise you to do the same."

Well before dawn the airmen detailed for the raid were roused from their sleep, or rather their efforts to slumber, since few were sufficiently proof against the excitement of the forthcoming expedition to enjoy a good night's rest.

Breakfast over, the members of the forlorn hope donned their leather coats and flying helmets, and assembled aft for final instructions from the wing commander.

"There is to be no easing down to keep pace with the slowest machine," were his instructions. "Each man is to go for his objective at top speed. You have noted the positions of the various batteries, I trust? It would be well to leave the Glienicke Redoubt well on your left. It's the only one, I believe, that mounts the latest Krupp's antis. On no account must the bombing seaplane attempt to encounter hostile aircraft on the outward flight: leave that task to the escorting planes. If, however, you fall in with any Zeppelins, attack immediately. One more point: should the situation necessitate the withdrawal of the seaplane-carriers and their escorts you know your instructions? Good. Well, gentlemen, that is all I have to say, beyond wishing you the best of luck and a safe return."

Barcroft's machine was the last to leave the "Hippodrome's" launching platform, and the last but one of the raiding craft. It was still dark. The misty outlines of the nearmost biplanes could be just discerned as they rose swiftly and steadily above the invisible destroyers. The crews of the latter gave the airmen three rousing cheers as they swept overhead, but the tribute was wasted. The farewell greetings were drowned by the roar of the engines.

As dawn began to break Billy made a rather disconcerting discovery. His seaplane was now the last of the procession. It had been over hauled by the one from the "Cursus," and what was more she was slowly yet surely dropping astern.

It did not appear to be the fault of the engine. The timing and firing seemed perfect. The motor was running like a clock, yet the rest of the raiding aircraft, most of which he knew were usually slightly inferior in speed, were distinctly gaining.

With the growing dawn the four escorting battle seaplanes could be distinguished, two on either side of the long-drawn line of bomb dropping air-craft. It was the duty of the former to engage any hostile aeroplane that attempted to bar the progress of the latter. Armoured and carrying two light quick-firers they were more than a match for the German airmen, and the latter were fully aware of the fact.

"Hang it all!" muttered the flight-sub as he actuated the rudder-bar and tilted the ailerons in order to check a cross-drift and to increase the altitude. "It's getting jolly misty. Hope it doesn't mean fog."

The rearmost of the rest of the air-squadron was now almost invisible, the others entirely so. As a matter of precaution Barcroft took a hurried compass bearing, fervently hoping that the mist would clear by the time he reached his desired objective.

"We're odd man out, old bird!" he shouted through the voice-tube. "Keep your eyes skinned. I don't want to get out of touch with McKenzie if it can be avoided."

"It can't," replied his observer. "He's just been swallowed up by the mist."

"I'll climb higher still," decided Billy. "There must be a limit to this rotten patch of vapour."

For another ten minutes Barcroft held on his course. He could not be far from land, he decided. Already the leading raiders must have achieved their object, if it were possible to see their target, and were on their return journey. The chances of a collision in mid-air with one of the British seaplanes suggested itself. The idea was not an inviting one--the impact of two frail and swiftly moving objects at an aggregate rate of nearly two hundred miles an hour, and the sickening crash to earth. There would be some satisfaction in knowing that an enemy aircraft was destroyed in this fashion, but the possibility--remote, no doubt--of sending one's fellow airmen and oneself to instant destruction was a proposition for which the misty air was responsible.

"I'm going to shut off the juice," announced Billy to his observer. "Keep your ears open, my festive."

With the switching off of the ignition the seaplane commenced a long glide. The almost total silence, save for the swish of the air against the planes and struts, was broken by a succession of loud rumbles. Some of the British raiders were at work.

"In which direction?" shouted Barcroft.

"Ahead on your left, I think," replied Kirkwood.

"Seems to me that the smash came from the right," declared the pilot. "Can you see any flashes?"

"Not a sign," replied the observer. "The sounds seem as if they are coming from the right now abaft the beam, if anything."

"It's a proper mix up," thought Barcroft. "Fog plays the very deuce with sound. If the other fellows are able to drop their bombs it proves that the mist is confined to the upper air. Dash it all! Are we never going to get clear of this muck?"

He jerked his goggles upwards until they rested on his cap. For all practical purposes they were useless, although guaranteed to be immune from the effect of moisture. The front of his coat was glistening with particles of ice. Everything he touched was slippery with rime. Jets of vapour, caused by the cold moisture coming in contact with the warm cylinders, drifted into his face and buffeted his bloodshot eyes.

"It's almost as bad as the night when Fuller and I strafed that Zep.," thought Kirkwood, who, although in a more sheltered position than his companion, came in for a generous share of the atmospheric discomforts.

A sudden jerk, so severe that it was a wonder the huge wing-spread did not collapse under the rapid change of pressure as Barcroft tilted the ailerons, told the observer that something had been sighted. Almost simultaneously the motor was restarted and the seaplane rising and banking steeply almost grazed the topmasts of a number of ships.

Kirkwood grasped the lever of the bomb-dropping gear and hung on till the order to let rip. But Barcroft gave no indication for the work of destruction.

"Sailing craft," he said to himself. "I could see their topsail yards. They are not what we want. Evidently we are over the commercial part of the harbour, if this is Cuxhaven. I'll buzz round and see if we have any luck."

Round and round in erratic curves, ascending and descending, the seaplane sped, yet without sighting any more shipping. Twice she came within sight of the ground, descending to within fifty feet in order to do so, but only an expanse of tilled fields rewarded the pilot's efforts. Then, climbing to a safe altitude he again volplaned in the hope of being guided by the sound of the bombardment. Again his endeavours met with no success. All was quiet, beyond the discordant clanging of a distant bell. The raiders had come and gone. Whether the fog had cut short their operations, or whether the air had been sufficiently clear to enable them to locate their objective, he knew not. The fact remained that Billy and the A.P. were lost in the fog and unable to carry out their allotted part of the strafing affair. They might be ten, twenty, or even thirty miles over German territory, so vague had been their course. Unless they speedily made tracks for the rendezvous they stood a good chance of running short of petrol should the fog extend sufficiently seaward to prevent them sighting the waiting seaplane carriers.

"What's the move, old man?" shouted the A. P,

"Off back," was the reply. "Nothin' doin' this trip."

"Hard lines," rejoined Kirkwood. "It's getting worse, if anything."

Which was a fact, for the frozen particles of moisture were increasing in size, and, driven into the airmen's faces by the rush of the seaplane through the air, were lacerating their skin until their features were hidden by congealed blood. Goggles being worse than useless, the two officers were compelled to close their eyelids to within a fraction of an inch and suffer acute torments from the biting air.

Very cautiously Barcroft planed down until the altitude gauge indicated a hundred feet, Seeing and hearing nothing he descended still further, restarting the engine as a matter of precaution.

Presently a rift in the wall of vapour enabled both pilot and observer to discern a flat, greyish expanse of sand through which several small channels wound sinuously.

"Good!" muttered Billy. "Now we know, more or less. We're over the sandbanks off the mouth of the Elbe unless it's the Weser. Anyway, nor' west is the course until we get away from this fog."

Ten minutes later the bank of vapour showed signs of diminishing in density; then, with a suddenness that left the two airmen blinking in the watery sunshine, the seaplane dashed into the clear daylight.

The sight that met their eyes was particularly cheerful. Ahead, at a distance of about four miles, lay the island fortress of Heligoland. But for one reason Barcroft would have made unhesitatingly for this strongly fortified rock of sandstone, drop his cargo of explosives and trust to luck to get clear. There was a more tempting inducement, for almost directly underneath the British seaplane was a large German warship.