Airship Part 11

"There are limits," he observed. "Dumping those Huns on board an outward-bound Frenchman is one of them. Now for the next vessel. Three for luck."

The third was a British tramp, bound from Montevideo for Naples. Her "Old Man," although ignorant that a Round-the-World aerial race was in progress or even in contemplation, readily agreed to help the "Golden Hind" on her way.

"I'll find use for 'em," he added with infinite relish. "They'll work their pa.s.sage, never you fear. Three times I've been torpedoed without warning, and on two occasions Fritz popped up to jeer at us struggling in waterlogged boats."

While conversation was in progress between Fosterd.y.k.e and the master of the S.S. Diaphanous, a wire hawser had been lowered from the bows of the airs.h.i.+p and made fast to the tramp's after-winch. Since she was steaming dead in the eye of the wind there was no necessity for her to alter helm. The "Golden Hind," pitching slightly, was towed astern of and thirty feet above the tramp. As the airs.h.i.+p's course was almost identical with that of the tramp Fosterd.y.k.e conscientiously kept the propellers revolving, since, even in the present circ.u.mstances, he did not wish to give his rivals a chance of raising a protest on the score that the flight of the British airs.h.i.+p had been mechanically aided.

The seventeen Germans showed no great enthusiasm at being placed on board the tramp. At first they imagined that the Diaphanous was bound for the Pacific. Even the prospect of being dumped ash.o.r.e at Naples was not at all attractive.

When they did make a move they descended the rope-ladder so slowly and deliberately that it was obvious they meant to detain the "Golden Hind" as much as possible.

"I see through their little game," exclaimed Fosterd.y.k.e, angrily. "Make 'em get a move on, Jackson."

The Leading Hand wanted no further bidding. Ably seconded by Chief Air Mechanic Hayward, he gave vent to such a flow of forcible language, accompanied by realistic dumbshow, that the Huns changed their tactics completely. It was even necessary to check their impetuosity, lest the ladder should break under the weight of too many men descending simultaneously. Then, with a joyous toot on her syren as the hawser was cast off, and a stentorian greeting from the Mercantile Marine skipper, the Diaphanous gathered way, while the "Golden Hind," almost as buoyant as of yore, rose steadily and rapidly against the gentle breeze.

Two hours later land--the Moroccan coast--was sighted on the starboard bow. Then fifty minutes later Fosterd.y.k.e touched Kenyon on the shoulder and pointed dead ahead to a faint object rising above the horizon.

"Guess we've done the trick, barring accidents," he observed. "That's Gibraltar."

CHAPTER XXIV.

--WITHIN SIGHT OF SUCCESS.

Count Karl von Sinzig had not started upon his long solo flight in the Albatross without studiously calculating his chances. He knew the machine and its capabilities, and, given ordinary luck, he saw no reason why he should not make a landing on Spanish soil, replenish fuel, and carry on to his hangar in Estremadura before his hated rival arrived at Gibraltar. Even if there were delays in obtaining petrol, he still had a useful lead, thanks to his twelve hours' start in advance of the "Golden Hind." The two hundred extra miles he had to cover beyond Gibraltar was a mere bagatelle--a question of an hour and twenty minutes' flight.

He rather regretted that the accident to Z64 had not occurred nearer the African coast; but realising that he was lucky to be able to carry on, he ran the risk of a prolonged flight over the sea with comparative equanimity.

Within an hour of leaving the wrecked Zeppelin he sighted two vessels, but with callous indifference to his promise to his crew he made not the slightest attempt to communicate with either of them. He was "all out" to win the much-needed Chauva.s.se Prize. Even his indictment by the various Allied Governments hardly worried him. Time to consider what he should do in the matter when he was safe on Spanish soil, he decided.

The Albatross, one of the best types of German machines, was practically an automatic flier. Von Sinzig could keep her on her course by an occasional pressure with his feet upon the rudder-bar, thus leaving both hands free. He was able to eat and drink, to study maps and make observations without risk of the monoplane getting out of control, while if needs be he could leave the pilot's seat, knowing that the Albatross would hold on automatically for several minutes with only a slight deviation in direction and hardly any difference in alt.i.tude.

Although only ten degrees north of the Tropics, it was bitterly cold at ten thousand feet; but the count had taken due precautions to combat the low temperature. He was warmly clad in orthodox flying kit, including sheepskin boots, fleece-lined leather jacket and trousers, all electrically heated. He had four thermos flasks filled with hot coffee and a pocket flask of brandy. For provisions he carried concentrated food, beef lozenges, and Strasburg sausages.

Hour after hour pa.s.sed. The Albatross was flying magnificently, her pilot holding on to a compa.s.s course, after making due allowances for the "drift" of the air current. He had based this allowance upon the direction of the wind when he left Z64; but unknown to him the light breeze had s.h.i.+fted eight points and was now blowing slightly ahead of his port beam. Then, having backed, it presently veered six points and blew with increasing force right against the Albatross; but von Sinzig was for the present in ignorance of the fact. Had he known that instead of a following breeze of about twenty miles an hour there was a head wind approaching the neighbourhood of thirty-five miles, he would not have been so chock-a-block with confidence.

When, at the end of the time limit he had set, he was not in sight of land he began to feel anxious. Half an hour later, as he was still without a glimpse of the coast, his misgivings increased, but ten minutes later he picked up land on his right. This was a puzzle. He had expected to make a landfall right ahead, and its appearance in an unexpected quarter mystified him. In point of fact he was in the neighbourhood of Cape Blanco, or nearly 250 miles south of Cape St. Vincent, where he hoped to pa.s.s over on his way to Estremadura.

A knowledge of the Moroccan coast obtained during a cruise in a German gunboat at the time of the Agadir crisis stood von Sinzig in good stead. He was able to recognise certain landmarks in spite of viewing them from a different aspect, and accordingly he turned the monoplane in a north-easterly direction, keeping parallel to the African coast, The new direction would take him a little to the eastward of Cadiz; rather nearer that port than Gibraltar. He had not the slightest inclination to fly over the latter fortress. Rather vaguely he wondered whether he would sight the "Golden Hind" making thither, since, sooner or later, unless a mishap occurred, the rival aviators must cut each other's routes.

He was now painfully aware of the change of wind. The direction of the smoke from several steamers, and the sight of a full-rigged s.h.i.+p running in a south-westerly direction told him that. Additionally, as he saw by the aid of his binoculars, that sailing s.h.i.+p was running under topsails only. That meant something more than a stiff breeze--and against this he had to contend.

Suddenly he detected an ominous cough of the motor. He knew that the petrol supply was running low, but he had no idea that the gauge registered so little. The tank was practically empty.

"Himmel!" gasped the dumfounded Hun. "Will she last out?"

He mentally measured the distance between him and the Spanish coast. A good ten miles. With a following wind he could glide that distance from that alt.i.tude, but not with this infernal head wind!

The engine was running jerkily. Clearly its spasmodic coughing betokened the fact that it would soon cease duty from sheer inanition. Its life-blood was being cut off at the heart of the machine--its petrol tank. That head wind. How von Sinzig cursed it! Had it been in his favour, even if he failed to volplane as far as the sh.o.r.e, the Albatross, being provided with floats, could have drifted on the surface.

In the midst of his incoherent utterances von Sinzig realised that the motor had at last given out. He trimmed the ailerons and prepared for a long glide, but, as he had feared, the head wind made it a matter of impossibility for the Albatross to cover more than two miles before she alighted.

It did not take long to complete the volplane, although the pilot nursed his machine to the best of his ability in the hope of prolonging the oblique descent.

The Albatross "landed" badly, her floats striking the water with a resounding smack. The count, having done his best, could do no more. He sat smoking a cigarette and keeping a look out for a vessel that would come to his a.s.sistance. There were several away to the south'ard, for he had alighted well to the north'ard of the regular steamer track between Gibraltar and Cape St. Vincent. They were too far off to notice the little Albatross.

Then von Sinzig made the disconcerting discovery that the starboard float was leaking. Already, owing to this cause, the monoplane was listing so that her starboard wing-tip was touching the water. This fact, combined with the knowledge that he was momentarily drifting farther and farther away from land, did not tend to improve the Hun's peace of mind.

Half an hour later, during which time the monoplane had drifted at least three miles, and was being considerably buffeted by the rising sea, von Sinzig noticed that a vessel was bearing down upon the crippled Albatross.

As she approached, the count saw that she was a small motor-yacht of about forty or fifty tons, and that she was flying the burgee of the "Real Club Mediterraneo" and the Spanish ensign. The sight of the Spanish colours gave von Sinzig renewed hope.

The yacht slowed down and lost way a few yards to the wind'ard of the monoplane. For so small a vessel she carried a large crew. There were half a dozen men for'ard, clad in white canvas jumpers and trousers and wearing red woollen caps. Aft were two gorgeously attired individuals in gold-laced yachting uniforms.

Von Sinzig, who was a fair Spanish linguist, hailed them. A rope thrown from the bows of the yacht fell across the nose of the Albatross. This the count caught and secured.

"Can you supply me with petrol, senor?" asked von Sinzig. "My tank is empty. A hundred litres will be enough."

One of the gold-laced men shook his head and extended his hands, palms uppermost.

"I am desolated at being compelled to refuse your excellency's modest request," he replied, "but we have paraffin engines and carry only a small quant.i.ty of petrol for starting purposes. How far have you come?"

"Nearly round the world," replied the Hun, grandiloquently. He could not resist the typically Teutonic trait of self-advertis.e.m.e.nt.

"Dios!" exclaimed the Spaniard, twirling his long moustachios. "Then you are Count Karl von Sinzig, who left Quintanur, in the province of Estremadura, sixteen or seventeen days ago?"

"I am," admitted von Sinzig, proudly.

The Spaniard said a few words in an undertone to his companion. The other's eyes gleamed and he nodded his head vigorously.

"We will take you on board and tow your machine," announced the owner of the yacht.

"To Cadiz or Huelva?" asked the count.

"Accept ten thousand regrets, count," replied the Spaniard. "We must take you to Gibraltar."

"But I have no wish to be taken to Gibraltar," declared von Sinzig. "I will give a thousand pesetas to be landed at Cadiz."

The Don again shrugged his shoulders.

"No doubt my crew would be glad of your offer of a thousand pesetas, count," he replied, "but since they know that the English have offered a reward equal to five thousand pesetas----"

"You would sell me?" demanded von Sinzig, furiously.

"I sell you, senor? Not I--a caballero of Spain! You insult me by the suggestion. I recollect, however, that I once had a brother. He was lost at sea, while travelling on an English vessel from New York to Cadiz. Like you, he wanted to land at Cadiz, but he was not able to do so. For why? Because the s.h.i.+p was torpedoed by one of your ever-accursed U-boats. Therefore I have a small measure of revenge when I hand you over to the English authorities at Gibraltar. Be pleased, senor, to step aboard."

Covered by an automatic pistol, Count Karl von Sinzig had no option but to obey. In the race round the world he was down and out.

CHAPTER XXV.

--FIRE!

Sir Reginald Fosterd.y.k.e laid down his pencil and uttered an exclamation of intense satisfaction. He had just "shot the sun" and had finished working out his position.

"Another hour will see us at Gib., lads," he announced joyously. "Then there'll be some mafficking. What's your programme? Going to pack your suit cases and back by the Madrid-Paris express?"

"You are not leaving the 'Golden Hind' at Gibraltar?" asked Kenneth.

"No," replied the baronet. "But I must certainly get some repairs executed before I resume my flight to England. I thought, perhaps, you were in a hurry to get home."

"There's no immediate hurry, sir," declared the chums, simultaneously.

"A few more days won't matter," began Kenyon; but before he could proceed with his explanation the alarm bell rang violently and continuously.

"What's wrong now?" exclaimed Fosterd.y.k.e, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the voice tube.

Peter, glancing aft through the window of the navigation-room, which being raised gave a clear view over the roof of the rest of the nacelle, saw at once what was amiss.

Dense volumes of smoke, tinged with dull red flames, were pouring from the after-end of the fuselage. Fanned by the rush of the airs.h.i.+p, the black vapour was streaming in its wake like a fox's tail.

Leaving Kenyon to take charge of the navigation-room, and cautioning him to keep the "Golden Hind" dead in the eye of the wind, and as fast as she could possibly go, Fosterd.y.k.e and Peter hastened aft.

They found the alley-way thick with smoke, for on the well-known principle that "the wind follows the s.h.i.+p" the draught was carrying the fumes within the nacelle in a forward direction.

A man wearing a smoke helmet brushed past them. It was Hayward going to find some fire-extinguishers. Others of the crew, who had hastily donned masks to protect themselves from the choking vapour, were busily engaged in hurling pyrene into the seat of the conflagration.

Although the speed of the "Golden Hind" through the air fanned the flames, Fosterd.y.k.e had done well to order speed to be maintained. The velocity had the effect of compelling the fire to trail astern instead of spreading upwards and thus destroying the envelope. Even as it was the heat had caused the non-inflammable brodium to expand, giving the envelope a tendency to trim down by the head.

"Petrol tank to No. 5 motor, sir," reported a grimy and perspiring mechanic, who through sheer exhaustion and being partly ga.s.sed by the noxious fumes had to withdraw from the fray. "Went up all of a sudden, like. Never saw such a flare up in all my life, sir; but we're getting it under."

It was indeed a stiff fight. In a few seconds the area of the fire had attained such large dimensions that it was impossible to reach the actual source. The fire-fighters had first to subdue the fringe of the conflagration, and by the time they had done this several of them were hors de combat by reason of the suffocating gases thrown off by the oxygen-exterminating pyrene. Above the crackling of the flames came the sharp tang of the suspension wires holding the nacelle to the aluminium envelope as they parted under the terrific heat.

Not only were the crew faced with the danger of the fire getting the upper hand; the while there was the chance of a portion of the fuselage becoming detached from the gas-bag, and the prospect of being hurled through s.p.a.ce from a height of eight or nine thousand feet above the sea was one that might well in cold blood put fear into the heart of the bravest of the brave. But in the heat of action the crew, knowing the danger, faced the risk manfully. Working in relays, they plied the flames with the fire-extinguis.h.i.+ng chemicals. As fast as one man fell out, temporarily overcome by the fumes and the terrific heat, another took his place until the fire was overcome. Even then the danger was not over. There was still a possibility of the smouldering fuselage being fanned into a blaze. Parts of the aluminium framework and panelling were warped and twisted into fantastic shapes. Snake-like coils of wire indicated the fact that several of the highly important connections between the fuselage and the envelope had been burnt through. Whether a sufficient number of tension wires remained to adequately support the afterpart of the nacelle remained a matter of doubt.

Unaccountably the petrol tank feeding No. 5 motor had taken fire. The pipes and unions had been frequently examined and found to be in good order. In fact, Hayward had personally inspected the fittings of that particular tank less than a quarter of an hour before the outbreak.

The damage was serious. Both Nos. 5 and 6 motors were out of action, the former showing signs of cras.h.i.+ng through the charred framework of the fuselage. The flames had spread to Fosterd.y.k.e's cabin, completely gutting it. Only a few aluminium frames were left, and these, blackened and bent, trailed forlornly astern like a gaunt skeleton.

With the contraction of the brodium after the fire had been quelled the envelope, instead of tending to tilt aft, now showed a tendency to droop. The heat had melted the solder of the union pipes through which the gas was pa.s.sed either to or from the metal pressure flasks, and several thousand feet of brodium had escaped.

Driven only by four propellers, her preciously scanty supply of brodium sadly depleted, and with the controls of the two after planes damaged by the flames, the "Golden Hind" was in a perilous state. She was just able, and no more, to overcome the attraction of gravity. How long she would be able to maintain herself in the air was a problem of supposition.

Had the "Golden Hind" been supported by hydrogen gas nothing could have saved her. The overcoming of the flames was a triumph for the fire-resisting properties of brodium. The patent gas had been put to one of the severest tests--an actual fire in mid-air--and had emerged with flying colours.

From the time of the alarm being raised until the fire was subdued only half an hour had elapsed. The smoke-grimed and fatigued crew were glad to rest, while Fosterd.y.k.e and Peter returned to the navigation-room, there to wash and replace their singed and reeking clothes with others from Kenyon's and Bramsdean's kit-bags. The baronet had to borrow a suit. The one he was wearing was in holes, while all his others on board were destroyed when his cabin was burnt out.

Fosterd.y.k.e was cheerful. In fact he was jocular. He realised that things might have been far worse; he was glad to find that the "Golden Hind" was still navigable and that none of his crew had sustained injury.

"This comes of boasting, Kenyon," he remarked. "I said we'd be in Gib. in an hour. We stood a chance of being in 'Kingdom Come.' What's she doing now?"

"Not more than eighty, sir," replied Kenneth, "and we've a stiffish wind to contend with."

"Eighty, eh? Not so dusty, considering we're trailing the wreckage of my cabin astern, and there's only four props to shove us along. She's dipping, though."

"She is, sir," agreed Kenyon, gravely. "I've trimmed the planes to their maximum. That tends to shove her nose up, but if I didn't she'd sit on her tail."

"We'll finish at the tape like an aerial Cleopatra's Needle," declared Fosterd.y.k.e. "h.e.l.lo! There's Tangier. That strip of blue you can just see beyond is the Straits of Gibraltar. We're a bit to the east'ard of our course."

Another half an hour of strenuous battling against heavy odds brought the "Golden Hind" immediately to the west of Ceuta. Ahead could be discerned the famous rock, although viewed from an alt.i.tude and "end on" its well-known appearance as a lion couchant was absent. But the "Golden Hind" had shot her bolt. "We're baulked at the tape," declared Fosterd.y.k.e. "This head wind's doing us. Hard lines, but we must take things as we find them."

Like von Sinzig he had been beaten by the head wind, but Fosterd.y.k.e, instead of raving and cursing like his German rival, accepted the situation philosophically. It was hard lines, failing within sight of the goal; but the baronet kept a stiff upper lip. He had done everything humanly possible to achieve his aim. He could do no more.

The "Golden Hind," inclined at an angle of sixty degrees, was dropping slowly but surely. With her remaining motors running all out she was unable to overcome the pull of gravity. Even as she dropped, her progress towards her goal was maintained at a rate of a bare five miles an hour above and against that of the wind.

Every man on board was holding on like grim death. With the floor as steep as the roof of a house there was nothing to be done but hold on. The ballonets were practically empty save the four or five for'ard ones. The propellers were now virtually helices--whirling screws that strove valiantly but unavailingly to lift the huge bulk of the airs.h.i.+p in an almost vertical direction. Should the motors fail to function, then the "Golden Hind" would drop like a stone. As it was she was falling surely and slowly.

Already officers and men had donned their inflated indiarubber lifebelts. There was not the slightest sign of panic. The men, although keenly disappointed at failure within sight of success, were joking with each other.

"Stand by to jump, all hands," shouted Fosterd.y.k.e. "Keep clear of the raffle, and you'll be as right as rain. There are half a dozen vessels within a couple of miles of us."

Some of the men slid along the sloping alley-way to the side doors. Others tore away the large celluloid windows in the cabins and motor-rooms, so as to be able to jump clear directly the fuselage touched the water.

The two chums had drawn themselves through the windows of the navigation-room and were standing on the blunt bows and steadying themselves by the tension wires running from the normal top of the nacelle to the underside of the envelope.

With the four motors running to the last the "Golden Hind" dropped into the sea. Her projecting envelope was the first to come into contact with the water. The ballonets, practically air-tight compartments, checked the downward movement, while the whole of the hitherto inclined bulk, pivoted as it were by the water-borne stern, dropped until it resumed its normal horizontal position.

Fosterd.y.k.e alone had remained in the navigation-room. Directly he saw that the airs.h.i.+p was resting temporarily on the surface and was beginning to gather way like a gigantic hydroplane he switched off the remaining motors.

"Every man for himself," he shouted.