CHAPTER XI--The Wrecked Sea-planeWith her stock of torpedoes replenished and certain defects made good, H.M.T.B.D.Caldersheered off from her parent ship, and, increasing speed to 21 knots, shaped a course to rejoin the rest of the flotilla.Lieutenant-Commander Richard Crosthwaite was in high spirits. He thought that he had succeeded in bluffing the commodore to give his permission to rejoin the rest of the fleet instead of being ordered back to the Firth of Forth. As a matter of fact, his senior officer, realizing that a "stout heart goes a long way", had purposely refrained from asking a lot of awkward questions concerning theCalder'sinjuries. In the forthcoming and projected night attack every destroyer available would be needed to put the fear of the British navy into the minds of the Huns and 21-inch torpedoes into the vitals of their battleships.The spirit of theCalder'sskipper was shared by every member of the crew. Even the wounded showed reluctance to be transferred to the parent ship; those whose injuries did not prevent them from getting about sturdily asserting that they might be of use. Those obliged to take to their hammocks were emphatic in impressing upon their more fortunate comrades the request "to get their own back".The sun was low in the north-western sky when theCalder'slook-out men sighted two vessels slowly making their way in the direction of home. One, evidently badly damaged, was in tow of the other.It was part of the destroyer's duty to investigate, since it might be possible that the vessels were hostile craft endeavouring by making a wide detour to reach their base.A wireless message, in code, was sent from theCalder, requesting the two vessels to disclose their identity. The reply left Crosthwaite no longer in doubt. The towing ship was theEngadine, while the crippled craft wallowing in her wake was the heroicWarrior.It was Crosthwaite's opportunity to regain the services of his sub-lieutenant if the latter had been lucky enough to escape from the terrible gruelling to which the British cruiser had been subjected.Closing to within a cable's length of theWarriorhe signalled:"Request permission to take off my sub-lieutenant."To which theWarriorreplied:"Permission granted, provided no needless risk to His Majesty's ships."Crosthwaite smiled grimly. The idea of further damage being done to theWarriorseemed out of the question, while he considered he was quite capable of bringing theCalderalongside without denting a single plate.Ordering "easy ahead", Crosthwaite brought theCalderclose alongside theWarrior'sport quarter. Although the sea was now running high, and the waves were breaking over the latter's almost submerged quarter-deck, it was comparatively calm under her lee."There's your glorified Thames penny steamer alongside, old man," remarked Sefton's chum as theCalderwas made fast fore and aft, her deck being little more than a couple of feet below that of the cruiser--so low had the latter settled aft. "No, don't trouble to return my coat. It's positively not respectable for the quarter-deck. Well, so long! I'll run across you again before this business is over, I guess."Scrambling over the debris, from which smoke was still issuing in faint bluish wisps, Sefton gained the armoured cruiser's side. Poising himself for an instant he leapt on theCalder'sdeck, followed by Able Seaman Brown.[image]"POISING HIMSELF FOR AN INSTANT, SEFTON LEAPT ON THE 'CALDER'S' DECK""Can I be of any assistance, sir?" enquired Crosthwaite from the bridge of the destroyer.The commanding officer of theWarriorreturned the salute and shook his head. He was loath to detain even one destroyer from the fighting that yet remained to be done.Amid the cheers of both crews theCaldersheered off, and, porting helm, resumed her course, while theWarrior, in tow of theEngadine, was confronted with the approach of night and a steadily-increasing rough sea.The badly-damagedWarriornever reached port. After being towed for twelve hours, her position became so serious that the sea-plane carrier hove alongside and removed her crew.Giving three cheers for the old ship, as theEngadine, abandoning her tow, increased the distance between her and theWarrior, the gallant crew watched the battered hulk rolling sullenly in the angry sea until she was lost sight of in the distance.Having formally reported himself, Sefton went below to make up arrears of sleep. Boxspanner and the doctor were in the ward-room, both engaged in animated conversation, not upon the subject of the action, but on the merits and demerits of paraffin as a substitute for petrol for a motor-bicycle.With disjointed fragments of conversation ringing in his ears, and "carburation", "sooty deposit in the sparking plug", and "engine-knock" figuring largely, Sefton fell into a fitful slumber, dreaming vividly of the stirring incidents of the past few hours, until he was aroused by the reversal of the destroyer's engines, the lightly-built hull quivering under the strain.Instinctively he glanced at the clock. He had been asleep only ten minutes--it seemed more like ten hours by the length of his excited mental visions.Leaping from his bunk, Sefton scrambled into his clothes and hurried on deck. It was still twilight. The wind was moaning through the aerials; splashes of spray slapped the destroyer's black sides as she lost way and fell off broadside on to the waves.Fifty yards to leeward was a large British sea-plane. She was listing at a dangerous angle, her starboard-float being waterlogged, and showing only above the surface as the fabric heeled in the trough of the sea. Her planes were ripped in twenty places, while the fuselage showed signs of having been hit several times. The tip of one blade of the propeller had been cut off as cleanly as if by a knife. All around her the water was iridescent with oil that had leaked from her lubricating-tanks. Waist-deep in water, and sitting athwart the undamaged float, was the pilot--a young sub-lieutenant, whose face was blanched with the cold. He had voluntarily adopted his position in order to impart increased stability to the damaged sea-plane.Lying on the floor of the fuselage, with his head just visible above the coamings, was the observer. He had discarded his flying-helmet, while round his head was bound a blood-stained scarf. Evidently his wound was of a serious nature, for he evinced no interest in the approach of theCalder.As the destroyer drifted down upon the crippled sea-plane a dozen ready hands gripped the top of one of the wings, and a couple of seamen swarmed along the frail fabric to the chassis.The rescue of the pilot was a comparatively easy matter, but it took all the skill of the bluejackets to extricate the wounded observer. It was not until others of the crew came to the aid of their comrades, the men in their zeal almost completing the submergence of the still floating wreckage, that the unconscious officer was brought on board.There was no time to waste in salvage operations. At an order from the lieutenant-commander a seaman, armed with an axe, made his way to the undamaged float. A few vigorous blows completed the work of destruction. Held by the tip of one of the wings until the man regained the destroyer, the sea-plane was allowed to sink."Rough luck to chuck away an engine like that," remarked a voice regretfully.Sefton turned his head and saw that the speaker was Engineer-Lieutenant Boxspanner, and for once at least Dr. Stirling agreed with him.The rescue of the sea-plane's crew threw additional work upon the already harassed surgeon, for the observer was showing signs of collapse, while upon examination it was found that the pilot had been hit in the forehead by a shrapnel bullet.Pulling himself together, the observer managed to impart important information before he fainted through sheer exhaustion. The sea-plane had sighted the main German fleet fifty miles to the nor'-nor'-east.The intelligence was highly desirable. It settled without doubt the all-important question as to the enemy's whereabouts, and definitely proved that Jellicoe's ships were between the Huns and their North Sea bases. If steps could be taken to intercept the German vessels' retreat through the Cattegat, it seemed as if they were doomed to annihilation at the hands of the British.Quickly the news was wirelessed from theCalderto theIron Duke. Unless anything unforeseen occurred, it seemed pretty certain that Admiral Jellicoe would be able to turn the initial advantage into an overwhelming defeat for the enemy.The two airmen had rendered good service against considerable odds. They had ascended three hours previously, and, flying low in order to be able to see through the haze, had eventually sighted the badly-damaged German squadron under Rear-Admiral von Scheer, which had contrived to slip away while Admiral Hipper was endeavouring to delay the advance of Jellicoe's main fleet.Owing to the low degree of visibility, the seaplane came within range of the hostile quick-firers almost before her pilot was aware of the unpleasant fact. Greeted by a hot fire, almost the first shell of which carried away the wireless, the sea-plane ascended, trusting to be hidden in the clouds until she could volplane from another direction and renew her reconnaissance of the hostile fleet.Unfortunately, it was a case of "out of the saucepan into the fire", for on emerging above the low-lying bank of clouds the sea-plane found herself almost underneath a Zeppelin, several of which accompanied the German fleet, although their sphere of usefulness was considerably curtailed by reason of the climatic conditions. Although the haze prevented the British from inflicting greater damage upon their opponents, it is fairly safe to assert that had the sky been clear the Zeppelins would have given the German fleet timely warning, and an action would never have ensued.Nothing daunted, the British sea-plane opened fire upon her gigantic antagonist; but the odds were against her. The Zeppelins, floating motionless in the air and in perfect silence, had long before heard the noisy approach of the mechanical hornet, and her appearance was greeted with a concentrated fire of half a dozen machine guns, accompanied by a few choice titbits in the shape of bombs.The latter, without exception, missed their objective, but the hail of bullets ripped the sea-plane through and through and dangerously wounded her observer. In spite of the riddled state of the planes the pilot kept his craft well under control, but was forced to descend, not before the Zeppelin was showing signs of having been much damaged by the sea-plane's automatic gun. The last the airmen saw of her was that she was making off at full speed in an easterly direction, her stern portion dipping ominously in spite of the quantity of ballast hurled overboard by her crew.The British air-craft's long volplane terminated on the surface of the sea miles from the place where she had "spotted" the hostile ships. Before long the pilot made the disconcerting discovery that one of the floats was leaking. Having bandaged his unfortunate comrade's wound, he slipped over the side of the fuselage on to the damaged float. Failing to locate and stop the leak, he took up his position on the sound float, in the hope that his weight would preserve the sea-plane's stability. In this position he remained for two hours, until, numbed by the cold, he was on the point of abandoning hope when theCalderhove in sight.The sun had set when theCalderrejoined the flotilla. The enemy was entirely out of sight, but there was every possibility of the German torpedo-boats making a night attack upon the long line of battleships.Every precaution was taken against such a step. The battleships and battle-cruisers were encircled by a line of light cruisers, while beyond them, and mostly between the British fleet and the reported position of the German ships, was a numerous gathering of destroyers for the dual part of protecting the larger ships and also, when opportunity occurred, of making a dash against the Huns."Mark my words, Sefton," said Lieutenant-Commander Crosthwaite when theCalder, having transferred the two airmen, had taken up her allotted station, "to-night's the night. We'll have the time of our lives."
CHAPTER XI--The Wrecked Sea-planeWith her stock of torpedoes replenished and certain defects made good, H.M.T.B.D.Caldersheered off from her parent ship, and, increasing speed to 21 knots, shaped a course to rejoin the rest of the flotilla.Lieutenant-Commander Richard Crosthwaite was in high spirits. He thought that he had succeeded in bluffing the commodore to give his permission to rejoin the rest of the fleet instead of being ordered back to the Firth of Forth. As a matter of fact, his senior officer, realizing that a "stout heart goes a long way", had purposely refrained from asking a lot of awkward questions concerning theCalder'sinjuries. In the forthcoming and projected night attack every destroyer available would be needed to put the fear of the British navy into the minds of the Huns and 21-inch torpedoes into the vitals of their battleships.The spirit of theCalder'sskipper was shared by every member of the crew. Even the wounded showed reluctance to be transferred to the parent ship; those whose injuries did not prevent them from getting about sturdily asserting that they might be of use. Those obliged to take to their hammocks were emphatic in impressing upon their more fortunate comrades the request "to get their own back".The sun was low in the north-western sky when theCalder'slook-out men sighted two vessels slowly making their way in the direction of home. One, evidently badly damaged, was in tow of the other.It was part of the destroyer's duty to investigate, since it might be possible that the vessels were hostile craft endeavouring by making a wide detour to reach their base.A wireless message, in code, was sent from theCalder, requesting the two vessels to disclose their identity. The reply left Crosthwaite no longer in doubt. The towing ship was theEngadine, while the crippled craft wallowing in her wake was the heroicWarrior.It was Crosthwaite's opportunity to regain the services of his sub-lieutenant if the latter had been lucky enough to escape from the terrible gruelling to which the British cruiser had been subjected.Closing to within a cable's length of theWarriorhe signalled:"Request permission to take off my sub-lieutenant."To which theWarriorreplied:"Permission granted, provided no needless risk to His Majesty's ships."Crosthwaite smiled grimly. The idea of further damage being done to theWarriorseemed out of the question, while he considered he was quite capable of bringing theCalderalongside without denting a single plate.Ordering "easy ahead", Crosthwaite brought theCalderclose alongside theWarrior'sport quarter. Although the sea was now running high, and the waves were breaking over the latter's almost submerged quarter-deck, it was comparatively calm under her lee."There's your glorified Thames penny steamer alongside, old man," remarked Sefton's chum as theCalderwas made fast fore and aft, her deck being little more than a couple of feet below that of the cruiser--so low had the latter settled aft. "No, don't trouble to return my coat. It's positively not respectable for the quarter-deck. Well, so long! I'll run across you again before this business is over, I guess."Scrambling over the debris, from which smoke was still issuing in faint bluish wisps, Sefton gained the armoured cruiser's side. Poising himself for an instant he leapt on theCalder'sdeck, followed by Able Seaman Brown.[image]"POISING HIMSELF FOR AN INSTANT, SEFTON LEAPT ON THE 'CALDER'S' DECK""Can I be of any assistance, sir?" enquired Crosthwaite from the bridge of the destroyer.The commanding officer of theWarriorreturned the salute and shook his head. He was loath to detain even one destroyer from the fighting that yet remained to be done.Amid the cheers of both crews theCaldersheered off, and, porting helm, resumed her course, while theWarrior, in tow of theEngadine, was confronted with the approach of night and a steadily-increasing rough sea.The badly-damagedWarriornever reached port. After being towed for twelve hours, her position became so serious that the sea-plane carrier hove alongside and removed her crew.Giving three cheers for the old ship, as theEngadine, abandoning her tow, increased the distance between her and theWarrior, the gallant crew watched the battered hulk rolling sullenly in the angry sea until she was lost sight of in the distance.Having formally reported himself, Sefton went below to make up arrears of sleep. Boxspanner and the doctor were in the ward-room, both engaged in animated conversation, not upon the subject of the action, but on the merits and demerits of paraffin as a substitute for petrol for a motor-bicycle.With disjointed fragments of conversation ringing in his ears, and "carburation", "sooty deposit in the sparking plug", and "engine-knock" figuring largely, Sefton fell into a fitful slumber, dreaming vividly of the stirring incidents of the past few hours, until he was aroused by the reversal of the destroyer's engines, the lightly-built hull quivering under the strain.Instinctively he glanced at the clock. He had been asleep only ten minutes--it seemed more like ten hours by the length of his excited mental visions.Leaping from his bunk, Sefton scrambled into his clothes and hurried on deck. It was still twilight. The wind was moaning through the aerials; splashes of spray slapped the destroyer's black sides as she lost way and fell off broadside on to the waves.Fifty yards to leeward was a large British sea-plane. She was listing at a dangerous angle, her starboard-float being waterlogged, and showing only above the surface as the fabric heeled in the trough of the sea. Her planes were ripped in twenty places, while the fuselage showed signs of having been hit several times. The tip of one blade of the propeller had been cut off as cleanly as if by a knife. All around her the water was iridescent with oil that had leaked from her lubricating-tanks. Waist-deep in water, and sitting athwart the undamaged float, was the pilot--a young sub-lieutenant, whose face was blanched with the cold. He had voluntarily adopted his position in order to impart increased stability to the damaged sea-plane.Lying on the floor of the fuselage, with his head just visible above the coamings, was the observer. He had discarded his flying-helmet, while round his head was bound a blood-stained scarf. Evidently his wound was of a serious nature, for he evinced no interest in the approach of theCalder.As the destroyer drifted down upon the crippled sea-plane a dozen ready hands gripped the top of one of the wings, and a couple of seamen swarmed along the frail fabric to the chassis.The rescue of the pilot was a comparatively easy matter, but it took all the skill of the bluejackets to extricate the wounded observer. It was not until others of the crew came to the aid of their comrades, the men in their zeal almost completing the submergence of the still floating wreckage, that the unconscious officer was brought on board.There was no time to waste in salvage operations. At an order from the lieutenant-commander a seaman, armed with an axe, made his way to the undamaged float. A few vigorous blows completed the work of destruction. Held by the tip of one of the wings until the man regained the destroyer, the sea-plane was allowed to sink."Rough luck to chuck away an engine like that," remarked a voice regretfully.Sefton turned his head and saw that the speaker was Engineer-Lieutenant Boxspanner, and for once at least Dr. Stirling agreed with him.The rescue of the sea-plane's crew threw additional work upon the already harassed surgeon, for the observer was showing signs of collapse, while upon examination it was found that the pilot had been hit in the forehead by a shrapnel bullet.Pulling himself together, the observer managed to impart important information before he fainted through sheer exhaustion. The sea-plane had sighted the main German fleet fifty miles to the nor'-nor'-east.The intelligence was highly desirable. It settled without doubt the all-important question as to the enemy's whereabouts, and definitely proved that Jellicoe's ships were between the Huns and their North Sea bases. If steps could be taken to intercept the German vessels' retreat through the Cattegat, it seemed as if they were doomed to annihilation at the hands of the British.Quickly the news was wirelessed from theCalderto theIron Duke. Unless anything unforeseen occurred, it seemed pretty certain that Admiral Jellicoe would be able to turn the initial advantage into an overwhelming defeat for the enemy.The two airmen had rendered good service against considerable odds. They had ascended three hours previously, and, flying low in order to be able to see through the haze, had eventually sighted the badly-damaged German squadron under Rear-Admiral von Scheer, which had contrived to slip away while Admiral Hipper was endeavouring to delay the advance of Jellicoe's main fleet.Owing to the low degree of visibility, the seaplane came within range of the hostile quick-firers almost before her pilot was aware of the unpleasant fact. Greeted by a hot fire, almost the first shell of which carried away the wireless, the sea-plane ascended, trusting to be hidden in the clouds until she could volplane from another direction and renew her reconnaissance of the hostile fleet.Unfortunately, it was a case of "out of the saucepan into the fire", for on emerging above the low-lying bank of clouds the sea-plane found herself almost underneath a Zeppelin, several of which accompanied the German fleet, although their sphere of usefulness was considerably curtailed by reason of the climatic conditions. Although the haze prevented the British from inflicting greater damage upon their opponents, it is fairly safe to assert that had the sky been clear the Zeppelins would have given the German fleet timely warning, and an action would never have ensued.Nothing daunted, the British sea-plane opened fire upon her gigantic antagonist; but the odds were against her. The Zeppelins, floating motionless in the air and in perfect silence, had long before heard the noisy approach of the mechanical hornet, and her appearance was greeted with a concentrated fire of half a dozen machine guns, accompanied by a few choice titbits in the shape of bombs.The latter, without exception, missed their objective, but the hail of bullets ripped the sea-plane through and through and dangerously wounded her observer. In spite of the riddled state of the planes the pilot kept his craft well under control, but was forced to descend, not before the Zeppelin was showing signs of having been much damaged by the sea-plane's automatic gun. The last the airmen saw of her was that she was making off at full speed in an easterly direction, her stern portion dipping ominously in spite of the quantity of ballast hurled overboard by her crew.The British air-craft's long volplane terminated on the surface of the sea miles from the place where she had "spotted" the hostile ships. Before long the pilot made the disconcerting discovery that one of the floats was leaking. Having bandaged his unfortunate comrade's wound, he slipped over the side of the fuselage on to the damaged float. Failing to locate and stop the leak, he took up his position on the sound float, in the hope that his weight would preserve the sea-plane's stability. In this position he remained for two hours, until, numbed by the cold, he was on the point of abandoning hope when theCalderhove in sight.The sun had set when theCalderrejoined the flotilla. The enemy was entirely out of sight, but there was every possibility of the German torpedo-boats making a night attack upon the long line of battleships.Every precaution was taken against such a step. The battleships and battle-cruisers were encircled by a line of light cruisers, while beyond them, and mostly between the British fleet and the reported position of the German ships, was a numerous gathering of destroyers for the dual part of protecting the larger ships and also, when opportunity occurred, of making a dash against the Huns."Mark my words, Sefton," said Lieutenant-Commander Crosthwaite when theCalder, having transferred the two airmen, had taken up her allotted station, "to-night's the night. We'll have the time of our lives."
With her stock of torpedoes replenished and certain defects made good, H.M.T.B.D.Caldersheered off from her parent ship, and, increasing speed to 21 knots, shaped a course to rejoin the rest of the flotilla.
Lieutenant-Commander Richard Crosthwaite was in high spirits. He thought that he had succeeded in bluffing the commodore to give his permission to rejoin the rest of the fleet instead of being ordered back to the Firth of Forth. As a matter of fact, his senior officer, realizing that a "stout heart goes a long way", had purposely refrained from asking a lot of awkward questions concerning theCalder'sinjuries. In the forthcoming and projected night attack every destroyer available would be needed to put the fear of the British navy into the minds of the Huns and 21-inch torpedoes into the vitals of their battleships.
The spirit of theCalder'sskipper was shared by every member of the crew. Even the wounded showed reluctance to be transferred to the parent ship; those whose injuries did not prevent them from getting about sturdily asserting that they might be of use. Those obliged to take to their hammocks were emphatic in impressing upon their more fortunate comrades the request "to get their own back".
The sun was low in the north-western sky when theCalder'slook-out men sighted two vessels slowly making their way in the direction of home. One, evidently badly damaged, was in tow of the other.
It was part of the destroyer's duty to investigate, since it might be possible that the vessels were hostile craft endeavouring by making a wide detour to reach their base.
A wireless message, in code, was sent from theCalder, requesting the two vessels to disclose their identity. The reply left Crosthwaite no longer in doubt. The towing ship was theEngadine, while the crippled craft wallowing in her wake was the heroicWarrior.
It was Crosthwaite's opportunity to regain the services of his sub-lieutenant if the latter had been lucky enough to escape from the terrible gruelling to which the British cruiser had been subjected.
Closing to within a cable's length of theWarriorhe signalled:
"Request permission to take off my sub-lieutenant."
To which theWarriorreplied:
"Permission granted, provided no needless risk to His Majesty's ships."
Crosthwaite smiled grimly. The idea of further damage being done to theWarriorseemed out of the question, while he considered he was quite capable of bringing theCalderalongside without denting a single plate.
Ordering "easy ahead", Crosthwaite brought theCalderclose alongside theWarrior'sport quarter. Although the sea was now running high, and the waves were breaking over the latter's almost submerged quarter-deck, it was comparatively calm under her lee.
"There's your glorified Thames penny steamer alongside, old man," remarked Sefton's chum as theCalderwas made fast fore and aft, her deck being little more than a couple of feet below that of the cruiser--so low had the latter settled aft. "No, don't trouble to return my coat. It's positively not respectable for the quarter-deck. Well, so long! I'll run across you again before this business is over, I guess."
Scrambling over the debris, from which smoke was still issuing in faint bluish wisps, Sefton gained the armoured cruiser's side. Poising himself for an instant he leapt on theCalder'sdeck, followed by Able Seaman Brown.
[image]"POISING HIMSELF FOR AN INSTANT, SEFTON LEAPT ON THE 'CALDER'S' DECK"
[image]
[image]
"POISING HIMSELF FOR AN INSTANT, SEFTON LEAPT ON THE 'CALDER'S' DECK"
"Can I be of any assistance, sir?" enquired Crosthwaite from the bridge of the destroyer.
The commanding officer of theWarriorreturned the salute and shook his head. He was loath to detain even one destroyer from the fighting that yet remained to be done.
Amid the cheers of both crews theCaldersheered off, and, porting helm, resumed her course, while theWarrior, in tow of theEngadine, was confronted with the approach of night and a steadily-increasing rough sea.
The badly-damagedWarriornever reached port. After being towed for twelve hours, her position became so serious that the sea-plane carrier hove alongside and removed her crew.
Giving three cheers for the old ship, as theEngadine, abandoning her tow, increased the distance between her and theWarrior, the gallant crew watched the battered hulk rolling sullenly in the angry sea until she was lost sight of in the distance.
Having formally reported himself, Sefton went below to make up arrears of sleep. Boxspanner and the doctor were in the ward-room, both engaged in animated conversation, not upon the subject of the action, but on the merits and demerits of paraffin as a substitute for petrol for a motor-bicycle.
With disjointed fragments of conversation ringing in his ears, and "carburation", "sooty deposit in the sparking plug", and "engine-knock" figuring largely, Sefton fell into a fitful slumber, dreaming vividly of the stirring incidents of the past few hours, until he was aroused by the reversal of the destroyer's engines, the lightly-built hull quivering under the strain.
Instinctively he glanced at the clock. He had been asleep only ten minutes--it seemed more like ten hours by the length of his excited mental visions.
Leaping from his bunk, Sefton scrambled into his clothes and hurried on deck. It was still twilight. The wind was moaning through the aerials; splashes of spray slapped the destroyer's black sides as she lost way and fell off broadside on to the waves.
Fifty yards to leeward was a large British sea-plane. She was listing at a dangerous angle, her starboard-float being waterlogged, and showing only above the surface as the fabric heeled in the trough of the sea. Her planes were ripped in twenty places, while the fuselage showed signs of having been hit several times. The tip of one blade of the propeller had been cut off as cleanly as if by a knife. All around her the water was iridescent with oil that had leaked from her lubricating-tanks. Waist-deep in water, and sitting athwart the undamaged float, was the pilot--a young sub-lieutenant, whose face was blanched with the cold. He had voluntarily adopted his position in order to impart increased stability to the damaged sea-plane.
Lying on the floor of the fuselage, with his head just visible above the coamings, was the observer. He had discarded his flying-helmet, while round his head was bound a blood-stained scarf. Evidently his wound was of a serious nature, for he evinced no interest in the approach of theCalder.
As the destroyer drifted down upon the crippled sea-plane a dozen ready hands gripped the top of one of the wings, and a couple of seamen swarmed along the frail fabric to the chassis.
The rescue of the pilot was a comparatively easy matter, but it took all the skill of the bluejackets to extricate the wounded observer. It was not until others of the crew came to the aid of their comrades, the men in their zeal almost completing the submergence of the still floating wreckage, that the unconscious officer was brought on board.
There was no time to waste in salvage operations. At an order from the lieutenant-commander a seaman, armed with an axe, made his way to the undamaged float. A few vigorous blows completed the work of destruction. Held by the tip of one of the wings until the man regained the destroyer, the sea-plane was allowed to sink.
"Rough luck to chuck away an engine like that," remarked a voice regretfully.
Sefton turned his head and saw that the speaker was Engineer-Lieutenant Boxspanner, and for once at least Dr. Stirling agreed with him.
The rescue of the sea-plane's crew threw additional work upon the already harassed surgeon, for the observer was showing signs of collapse, while upon examination it was found that the pilot had been hit in the forehead by a shrapnel bullet.
Pulling himself together, the observer managed to impart important information before he fainted through sheer exhaustion. The sea-plane had sighted the main German fleet fifty miles to the nor'-nor'-east.
The intelligence was highly desirable. It settled without doubt the all-important question as to the enemy's whereabouts, and definitely proved that Jellicoe's ships were between the Huns and their North Sea bases. If steps could be taken to intercept the German vessels' retreat through the Cattegat, it seemed as if they were doomed to annihilation at the hands of the British.
Quickly the news was wirelessed from theCalderto theIron Duke. Unless anything unforeseen occurred, it seemed pretty certain that Admiral Jellicoe would be able to turn the initial advantage into an overwhelming defeat for the enemy.
The two airmen had rendered good service against considerable odds. They had ascended three hours previously, and, flying low in order to be able to see through the haze, had eventually sighted the badly-damaged German squadron under Rear-Admiral von Scheer, which had contrived to slip away while Admiral Hipper was endeavouring to delay the advance of Jellicoe's main fleet.
Owing to the low degree of visibility, the seaplane came within range of the hostile quick-firers almost before her pilot was aware of the unpleasant fact. Greeted by a hot fire, almost the first shell of which carried away the wireless, the sea-plane ascended, trusting to be hidden in the clouds until she could volplane from another direction and renew her reconnaissance of the hostile fleet.
Unfortunately, it was a case of "out of the saucepan into the fire", for on emerging above the low-lying bank of clouds the sea-plane found herself almost underneath a Zeppelin, several of which accompanied the German fleet, although their sphere of usefulness was considerably curtailed by reason of the climatic conditions. Although the haze prevented the British from inflicting greater damage upon their opponents, it is fairly safe to assert that had the sky been clear the Zeppelins would have given the German fleet timely warning, and an action would never have ensued.
Nothing daunted, the British sea-plane opened fire upon her gigantic antagonist; but the odds were against her. The Zeppelins, floating motionless in the air and in perfect silence, had long before heard the noisy approach of the mechanical hornet, and her appearance was greeted with a concentrated fire of half a dozen machine guns, accompanied by a few choice titbits in the shape of bombs.
The latter, without exception, missed their objective, but the hail of bullets ripped the sea-plane through and through and dangerously wounded her observer. In spite of the riddled state of the planes the pilot kept his craft well under control, but was forced to descend, not before the Zeppelin was showing signs of having been much damaged by the sea-plane's automatic gun. The last the airmen saw of her was that she was making off at full speed in an easterly direction, her stern portion dipping ominously in spite of the quantity of ballast hurled overboard by her crew.
The British air-craft's long volplane terminated on the surface of the sea miles from the place where she had "spotted" the hostile ships. Before long the pilot made the disconcerting discovery that one of the floats was leaking. Having bandaged his unfortunate comrade's wound, he slipped over the side of the fuselage on to the damaged float. Failing to locate and stop the leak, he took up his position on the sound float, in the hope that his weight would preserve the sea-plane's stability. In this position he remained for two hours, until, numbed by the cold, he was on the point of abandoning hope when theCalderhove in sight.
The sun had set when theCalderrejoined the flotilla. The enemy was entirely out of sight, but there was every possibility of the German torpedo-boats making a night attack upon the long line of battleships.
Every precaution was taken against such a step. The battleships and battle-cruisers were encircled by a line of light cruisers, while beyond them, and mostly between the British fleet and the reported position of the German ships, was a numerous gathering of destroyers for the dual part of protecting the larger ships and also, when opportunity occurred, of making a dash against the Huns.
"Mark my words, Sefton," said Lieutenant-Commander Crosthwaite when theCalder, having transferred the two airmen, had taken up her allotted station, "to-night's the night. We'll have the time of our lives."