It was a plain, unvarnished tale that he told. He described himself as mate of the s.s. Falling Star, a tramp of 250 tons, engaged in carrying general cargo4 to the French ports. Within twenty miles of the English coast the Falling Star was attacked by a German aeroplane—a huge machine, painted a vivid yellow, and having, in addition to the usual black crosses, a representation of an eagle holding a skull5 in the claws.
The mate was quite emphatic6, when cross-examined by a representative of the Admiralty, that the machine was not a seaplane. It made no attempt to alight on the water, but circled round the tramp for the best part of twenty minutes before administering the coup8 de grace. Unarmed, the Falling Star could offer no resistance, and, as if gloating over its advantage, the Hun machine performed weird9 stunts10 above the tramp. Then, vol-planing down to within two hundred feet, the Boche dropped a heavy bomb that struck the ship fairly amidships, killing11 three and wounding seven members of the crew, including the whole of the engine-room staff.
The Falling Star sank rapidly, so that there was barely time to lower away the only boat that had escaped serious damage from the explosion.
Into her crowded eleven men, who, thinking that they were fortunate in getting clear of the foundering12 vessel13, began to pull for the distant shore. Alas14 for a vain hope! The Hun, flying in a comparatively small circle, deliberately15 machine-gunned the hapless boat until, satisfying himself that the fell work was accomplished16, the German airman flew off, gloating over his gallant17 victory over another of the strafed Englander's merchantmen.
"Unless I'm very much mistaken," said Biggs, when the three cadets were on their way back to the aerodrome, "that low-down Boche is an old acquaintance. I remember back in '17 that a 'plane marked as described was causing us a great deal of trouble. The Boche's name was Count Hertz von Peilfell. Our fellows were particularly anxious to bring him down. He was a bold flyer, and not at all particular as to his manners and customs. He was up to all the dirtiest tricks imaginable, and, when he wasn't night-bombing over our lines, was wandering across this side of the Channel. He boasted that he had taken part in three raids on London, and had sunk at least half a dozen Allied18 merchantmen by means of bombs. We gave him a warm reception over Dunkirk, and that was the last time he put in an appearance as far as we knew. Perhaps he was resting and recuperating19 his jangled nerves. However, if this blighter is Von Peilfell, I hope I'll meet him again, and then let the better man win."
For the next few weeks the work at Averleigh aerodrome proceeded briskly and strenuously20. Somewhat to his surprise and delight, Derek Daventry was passed out after a comparatively short course, and given his commission and appointed to a home counties flying-station.
Biggs, too, was able to discard the white band round his cap, and was promptly21 sent across to the Somme front; but Kaye was not so fortunate. Greatly to that worthy's disappointment, he was put back for another course, for reasons best known to the instructors22 at Averleigh T.D.S.
Torringham aerodrome, to which Derek was posted, was a comparatively new station situated23 somewhere in Essex. It formed part of the outer aerial defences of London, and had not yet received its full establishment. Probably a marked disinclination on the part of the Boche to tempt7 fate amid the aerial net defences and improved anti-aircraft batteries over and around the city was responsible for the fact that there were few opportunities for the Torringham pilots to distinguish themselves. Also, the growing superiority of British and Allied airmen on the Western Front, and the reprisal24 raids upon the Rhine towns, kept the Hun airmen pretty much occupied, and London, in consequence, enjoyed a period of security. Nevertheless there was always the possibility of a daring Boche attempting to sneak25 over the metropolis26 under cover of darkness, and the British airmen stationed around London had to be constantly on the alert.
It was on the eighth evening following Derek's arrival at Torringham that the period of comparative inaction was broken. There happened to be a dance in progress, to which the officers of the depot27 had been invited.
"I don't think I'll take it on, old man," replied Daventry in answer to a brother officer's suggestion. "I've quite a dozen letters to write, and I want to turn in early. Hope you'll have a good time."
So Derek sat in solitary28 state in the practically deserted29 ante-room while the revellers proceeded by motor to the scene of the festivities—a distance of nearly thirty miles.
"That's a good job done!" exclaimed Derek drowsily30 when the last of his correspondence was finished. "By Jove, it's nearly midnight! I'll sleep like a top to-night, unless the returning roysterers rout31 me out of my bed."
It seemed to the young officer as if he had not been asleep more than a couple of minutes when the electric light in his rooms was switched on and a hand grasped his shoulder.
"Turn out, you blighter!" exclaimed a voice, which Derek failed to recognize as that of the Officer of the Watch. "They're coming over!"
"Chuck it, old bird!" protested the still sleepy man. "If you want to rag anyone, try someone else."
"No kid," continued the O.W. "We've just had a telephone message through to say that a group of Gothas passed over Harwich five minutes ago making towards London. You're the only pilot left on the station, so you'll have to go up."
Derek leapt out of bed and hurriedly threw on his clothes. He was not at all charmed with the prospect32, for Torringham lay considerably33 off the course usually followed by the Hun raiders. To be literally34 hauled out of bed in the small hours of the morning, and to ascend35 on a pitch-dark night without any degree of certainty of being within thirty miles of a Boche airman, seemed "hardly good enough".
By the time Derek arrived at the shed in which his Dromedary biplane was kept, he felt that much of his drowsiness36 had passed. It was a fair night, although slightly overcast37. Occasionally the stars shone through the wide rifts38 in the vapour. There was little or no wind.
"All ready?" he asked of the Sergeant-Mechanic.
"All ready, sir," was the reply.
By sheer force of habit Daventry tested the controls, and assured himself that the petrol-tank was filled. Then, donning his flying-kit, he clambered into his seat.
Along the electrically-lighted ground the biplane ambled39, and then rose magnificently into the night air. A moment later and the powerful arc-lamps were switched off, and the countryside beneath the rapidly-climbing 'bus was shrouded40 in utter darkness.
At six thousand feet Derek found that his sense of lassitude had completely vanished. The bracing41 coldness of the rarefied atmosphere acted more effectually than the best tonic42 prepared by human agency. More than once he realized that he was singing at the top of his voice, as if trying to outrival the terrific roar of the powerful motors.
He was now well above the stratum43 of clouds. Overhead the stars shone brilliantly. He was alone, rushing through space at a speed of ninety miles an hour.
"Goodness only knows why I'm up here," he reiterated44. "Anyway, it's a jolly picnic. I'll cut out and see if anything's doing."
Accordingly, Daventry shut off the engine and began vol-planing as gently as possible. He listened intently for the roar of a hostile propeller45 above the swish of the air past struts46 and tension-wires.
"Thought so," he muttered, as he restarted the motor. "Nothin' doin'. I'm on a dud stunt. However, I'll carry on."
For the best part of an hour Derek continued his flight, describing huge figures-of-eight in order to keep in touch with the aerodrome. In vain he maintained a sharp look-out for any lurid47 bursts of flame on the distant horizon that would indicate that the Boche was setting to work, and that the anti-aircraft guns were giving the raiders a hot tonic.
He was on the point of discharging his signal-pistol in order to inform the aerodrome that he was about to make a landing when a dark, indistinct mass shot by a hundred feet below him, and then vanished in the darkness.
"By Jove! I wonder if that's a Fritz?" ejaculated the young pilot. "I'll try and find out."
Almost before the Dromedary began to rock in the eddies48 in the wake of the mysterious aeroplane Derek swung his 'bus round, banking49 steeply ere he steadied her on her course. A glance at the altimeter showed him that the height was eight thousand five hundred feet, quite enough manoeuvring space for the work in hand, provided he could find his quarry50.
It was almost like looking for a needle in a bottle of hay. Even taking into consideration the superior speed of the Dromedary, the initial start obtained by the Hun (supposing that Derek's surmise51 proved to be correct) and a slight divergence52 of courses would result in the two aeroplanes being separated by miles of darkness.
Still keenly on the alert, Derek held on, at the same time putting a tray of ammunition53 to each of the two Lewis guns, the heels of which were within a few inches of the pilot's face.
"I've missed the beggar," declared Daventry, after continuing the phantom54 pursuit for nearly a quarter of an hour. "Hard lines if the fellow were a Boche. I'll give myself another five minutes——By smoke! now what's that?"
Right ahead, but on a slightly-lower level, was something gaunt, indistinct, and moving. For a few seconds Derek could hardly credit his good fortune, thinking that in the stress and strain of the night-flight he was the victim of a hallucination. Another minute, however, removed all cause for doubt. It was a 'plane; more, it was a Boche, for the black crosses of infamy55 were discernible in the cold starlight.
The Dromedary was rocking in the tail-stream of the Hun machine. Gently Derek brought his 'bus up, until it was flying in comparatively still air. Eighty yards away was the Boche, flying serenely56 in blissful ignorance of the fact that a British machine was literally sitting on its tail.
Deliberately, and without the faintest compunction—for the night-raider had none when dropping his powerful bombs upon the civilian57 population of London and other cities and towns—Derek brought the sights of the right-hand gun to bear upon the back of the Hun pilot. A burst of vivid flashes, and the deed was done.
The German machine dipped abruptly58, and dropped into a spinning nose-dive, while a long trail of reddish flames, terminating in a cloud of fire-tinged smoke, told its own tale. The petrol-tank had taken fire, and the doom59 of the raider was sealed. No amount of trickery would avail. It was impossible for Fritz to attempt his now well-known spin in the hope of deluding60 his antagonist61, and then, by flattening62 out, get clear away. The fire had "put the hat" on that, even if the pilot had not been killed outright64 by the hail of Lewis-gun bullets.
"May as well see what happens," soliloquised Daventry. "So here goes!"
Diving almost vertically65, he followed the visible track of the crashing Hun. With his feet braced66 firmly against the rudder-bar, and his head and shoulders well back, Derek maintained the plunge67, ready at the first inkling of danger to either loop or flatten63 out. In spite of the terrific pace, the flaring68 debris69 of the vanquished70 Gotha was falling even faster, followed by a galaxy71 of falling embers.
Suddenly a blinding flash seemed to leap out of the darkness within a few yards of the diving Dromedary. Another and another followed in quick succession, and although the noise was drowned by the roar of the engine, Derek guessed instantly and rightly.
"Shrapnel, by smoke!" he exclaimed. "I'm being strafed by our own antis."
With a sudden jerk that would have spelt disaster had any of the struts and tension-wires been of faulty workmanship, the Dromedary checked her downward plunge in order to avoid the unpleasant attentions of "Archibald", while for the first time Derek became aware that he was in the concentrated and direct glare of half a dozen powerful searchlights.
"Why on earth can't the idiots see my distinguishing marks!" exclaimed Derek petulantly72, forgetting that when a machine is diving steeply the planes present to an observer on the ground the appearance of two parallel lines. He groped for his Very's pistol in order to give the customary signal to show that it was a British aeroplane that was the object of the anti-aircraft gunners' attention, but in the steep nose-dive that important article had slid from its appointed place.
Rocking and pitching in the rudely-disturbed air, the Dromedary dodged73 and twisted, vainly attempting to elude74 the beams of the searchlights. Then, with a most disconcerting crash, a couple of struts were shattered like matchwood, and the next instant the 'bus, badly out of control, began to drop through the intervening thousand feet that separated her from the ground.
Derek prepared for a crash; sliding as far as possible under the cambered deck of the fuselage, he waited for the inevitable75. The biplane on crashing would almost certainly land on her nose and turn completely over. It was possible to survive the impact, but the greatest danger lay in the possibility of the luckless pilot being hurled76 against the knife-like tension-wires, or having his head battered77 against the heels of the two machine-guns.
To Derek the biplane appeared to be dropping slowly, although actually very few seconds elapsed before the crash came. The anti-aircraft guns had ceased firing, either because the gunners knew that they had scored a hit, or else the altitude was too small to admit of the guns being fired without risk of doing great damage to the adjacent village. The concerted rays of the searchlights, however, continued to play upon the falling machine, until an intervening ridge78 masked them. There was a sudden transition from dazzling light to utter darkness—Derek realized that he was now but a few feet from the ground.
Crash!
As he expected, the machine struck nose first. The quivering fabric79 of the fuselage was suddenly checked, the change of direction causing Derek's knees to bend and hit hard against the deck. A blow like that of a gigantic sledge-hammer seemed to smite80 him betwixt the shoulder-blades.
Then, rearing, the fuselage toppled completely over, and the next instant Derek found himself being dragged down through icy-cold water.
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1
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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2
stunt
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| n.惊人表演，绝技，特技；vt.阻碍...发育，妨碍...生长 | |
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survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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5
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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6
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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7
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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coup
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| n.政变；突然而成功的行动 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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10
stunts
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| n.惊人的表演( stunt的名词复数 )；（广告中）引人注目的花招；愚蠢行为；危险举动v.阻碍…发育[生长]，抑制，妨碍( stunt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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11
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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12
foundering
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| v.创始人( founder的现在分词 ) | |
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13
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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14
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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15
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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16
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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17
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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18
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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19
recuperating
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| v.恢复（健康、体力等），复原( recuperate的现在分词 ) | |
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20
strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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21
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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22
instructors
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| 指导者，教师( instructor的名词复数 ) | |
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23
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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24
reprisal
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| n.报复，报仇，报复性劫掠 | |
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25
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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26
metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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27
depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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28
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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29
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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30
drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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31
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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32
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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33
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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34
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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35
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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36
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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37
overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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38
rifts
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| n.裂缝( rift的名词复数 )；裂隙；分裂；不和 | |
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39
ambled
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的过去式和过去分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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40
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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41
bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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42
tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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43
stratum
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| n.地层，社会阶层 | |
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44
reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
propeller
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| n.螺旋桨，推进器 | |
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46
struts
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| （框架的）支杆( strut的名词复数 )； 支柱； 趾高气扬的步态； （尤指跳舞或表演时）卖弄 | |
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47
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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48
eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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49
banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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50
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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51
surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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52
divergence
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| n.分歧，岔开 | |
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53
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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54
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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55
infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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56
serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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57
civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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58
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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59
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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60
deluding
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的现在分词 ) | |
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61
antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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62
flattening
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| n. 修平 动词flatten的现在分词 | |
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63
flatten
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| v.把．．．弄平，使倒伏；使(漆等)失去光泽 | |
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64
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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65
vertically
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| adv.垂直地 | |
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66
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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67
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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68
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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69
debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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70
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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71
galaxy
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| n.星系；银河系；一群(杰出或著名的人物) | |
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72
petulantly
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73
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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74
elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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75
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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smite
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| v.重击；彻底击败；n.打；尝试；一点儿 | |
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