The Secret Battleplane Read online

  CHAPTER V

  SO NEAR AND YET SO FAR

  NOT for one moment did Desmond Blake's presence of mind desert him.Quickly locking the wings in position to enable the battleplane tomaintain a maximum glide he turned her "down wind." Volplaning in theteeth of the stiff northerly breeze would, he knew, result in across-country gain of, perhaps, a mile or two; whereas, gliding withthe following wind there was more than a sporting chance of coveringsufficient distance to get clear of the thickly populated outskirtsof the Metropolis of the Midlands.

  Following the stoppage of the motors Dick slipped from his seat andmade his way along the floor of the fuselage till he came to thesilent machinery. Switching on an electric torch, for it was now darkwithin the "hull" of the battleplane, and with the failure of themotors the dynamo-run lamps had gone out, Dick made a hastyexamination.

  "Ignition," he reported. "Magneto, I fancy."

  "Guessed so," rejoined the inventor, laconically. "See if you canrectify matters. I'll keep her steady as long as I can."

  Volplaning at fifty miles an hour does not give one much time foreffecting adjustments. Before the lad had been able to verify hissuspicions a peculiar motion warned him that the battleplane wasdescribing a semi-circular swoop. Ten seconds later, with hardly aperceptible jar she came to earth, or rather, landed in a deepsnow-drift.

  "Had to risk it," declared Blake cheerily. "This will do for thepresent. Night's coming on apace. Fortunately there are plenty ofemergency rations on board."

  "Where are we?" asked Athol.

  "Goodness only knows," said the inventor. "All I know is that we justskimmed the tops of a tall building. It wouldn't be a bad idea toland and have a look round. Nothing like fixing one's bearings incase we have to clear out in a hurry."

  Although the fuselage when at rest had a normal inclination of aboutforty-five degrees it now barely exceeded fifteen. On alighting theairmen discovered that the battleplane was resting in the snow on ashelving slope. Twenty feet from her bows was a stone wall in aruinous condition. Only the drag of the snow drift had prevented thebattleplane from hurling itself "nose-on" against the formidableobstruction.

  Already the twilight was falling, the dim light rendered stillfainter by the steady drive of heavy flakes. Away to the right a dimoutline, silhouetted against the afterglow, denoted the position ofthe building against which the battleplane had so narrowly escapedbeing hurled.

  "A ruined castle," exclaimed Athol.

  "And, to me, a familiar spot," rejoined the inventor. "We couldn'thave lighted upon a better place. This is Kenilworth. There is littlefear of interruption, it is late in the day, and people would not betempted to wade through the snow drifts even if the grounds are notclosed. Yes; we'll do here very nicely. There's plenty of room for a'take off.' Now for a meal, then we'll tackle the repairs. I don'tpropose making a fresh start until just before daybreak."

  Returning to the battleplane the three aviators "battened" down toguard against the possibility of any stray ray of light betrayingtheir presence. Two battery-charged electric lamps gave quite abrilliant illumination. The meal, though frugal, was heartilyappreciated, while thanks to the amount of heat still retained by theradiators fed by the exhaust the temperature bordered upon sixtydegrees.

  "One must be ready to profit by slight misfortunes," remarked Blakeduring the the meal. "I have an idea. I'll have separate magnetos toeach engine."

  "Will that help us?" asked Dick. "If one engine fails one of thewings will cease beating and the other will go on flapping. Thebattleplane would be like a duck wounded in one wing."

  "So she would," admitted the inventor dubiously.

  "Separate magnetos by all means," continued Dick, "but it would bewell to fit a free wheel sprocket on the main shaft of each engine,and arrange it so that each motor actuates both wings. Then if oneengine falters or stops the other will continue to propel thebattleplane. Of course you would only have half the power, but thatwould be sufficient to keep her in the air."

  Desmond Blake thought deeply for a few minutes.

  "By smoke, Dick!" he exclaimed. "You've solved a knotty point. We'llmake the necessary alterations directly we return. You are quiteright about the power of each motor. Each possesses one and a halftimes the lifting power necessary for the battleplane."

  By nine o'clock in the evening the adjustments to the magneto weresatisfactorily carried out, and the battleplane's wings having beenfolded to escape an accumulation of snow, the airmen turned in forthe night.

  As Blake had surmised the night passed without interruption. Littledid the inhabitants of the picturesque village of Kenilworth suspectthat the most ingenious flying machine that the world had yetpossessed was resting quietly in the snow-covered courtyard of thefamous mediaeval ruin.

  So soundly did the two lads sleep in their comfortable bunks that thefirst intimation they had of the arrival of another day was DesmondBlake's voice exclaiming,

  "Now, then, you fellows. Five o'clock and a fine morning."

  A cup of hot coffee and some biscuits having been served out, theairmen prepared to resume their flight. It was still twilight.Snowflakes were falling, although not with the violence thatcharacterised yesterday's storm. From a not far distant farmyardcocks were lustily heralding the dawn.

  Silently, under the guidance of the masterhand, the huge mechanicalbird left its roosting place on the snow covered ground and soaredswiftly upwards until it attained a height of two thousand feet.

  Suddenly a huge, ill-defined shape lurched past the battleplane,passing less than two hundred feet underneath. In spite of theterrific speed, for the two objects were moving in the oppositedirection and at an aggregate rate of one hundred and eighty miles anhour, both lads recognised the shape as that of a Zeppelin.

  Desmond Blake saw it, too, and acted promptly. In a few seconds thebattleplane had made a semi-circular motion and, "all out," wasfollowing the night-raider.

  Athol sprang to the machine-gun but the pilot waved his hand toindicate that the weapon was not to be used. Already the Zeppelin,having gained a great distance during the change of direction on thepart of the battleplane, was out of sight.

  "No use," he exclaimed hurriedly. "Only dummy cartridges. Must blamethe Defence of the Realm Act for that."

  Seven minutes later the Zeppelin was again sighted. Apparently shehad been engaged in a raid over the Midlands and had lost her way.She was moving jerkily, and was down by the stern. Whether that wasowing to injury from anti-aircraft guns or merely through theaccumulation of snow on the upper part of her envelope the lads couldnot decide.

  Unperceived by the crew of the Zeppelin the battleplane soaredmajestically overhead until a vertical distance of less than ahundred feet separated the gas-bag from her winged rival.

  "If we had ammunition we should have her at our mercy," remarked theinventor.

  "Take charge for a few minutes, Athol. I want to give her a littlereminder of our meeting."

  The lad gripped the steering levers. So strong was his faith in themasterpiece of the inventor that he handled the swiftly-movingbattleplane as faultlessly as if his acquaintance with the mechanicalbird had been of two years' duration rather than of a few hours.

  Meanwhile, Blake descended to the interior of the fuselage, returningpresently with a long steel marline-spike. Through the hole in therounded end he threaded a string of red, white and blue ribbons forthe joint purpose of steadying the improvised dart in its flight andin order to leave no doubt in the minds of the Huns of the origin ofnationality of the weapon.

  Then, clambering into the seat vacated by the deputy pilot, Blakelowered one of the wing-screens and poised the marline-spike over theside.

  "Faster," he ordered.

  Dick touched the lever actuating the sparking-gear. Perceptibly thebattleplane increased her speed until she overlapped the unsuspectingZeppelin by almost two-thirds of the latter's length.

  Blake released his grip of the rough and ready dart. For a couple ofseconds it seeme
d to fall well in front of the swiftly-movingZeppelin, then, its course describing a gradually increasing curve,it was observed to be making for the huge target.

  With a thud it struck the flattened part of the upperside of theenvelope about fifty feet from the tail. Completely perforating thealuminium sheeting it vanished, leaving a few fragments of streamersto mark the palpable hit.

  "There'll be some gas lost there, I'm thinking," remarked Blakegrimly. "Up helm, Athol. We have no more missiles at our disposal.One thing, we've had practice at bomb-dropping."

  In a few seconds the errant Zeppelin was lost to sight in thesnow-laden atmosphere, as the battleplane was steadied on a coursethat was to bring her back to her hangar.

  "There is our base," announced the pilot, pointing to a clump ofsnow-laden pines almost hiding a lofty conical hill. "Make sure ofyour bearings, lads; you never know when the knowledge will come inhandy. Now, stand by."

  Skilfully Desmond Blake brought the battleplane to a standstill withher nose within five feet of the doors of the shed.

  "Now for a proper breakfast," he exclaimed cheerfully as the crewalighted. "It won't take long to house the little beauty, then----"

  He stopped abruptly, his hands gripping the half-open doors.

  "The deuce!" he ejaculated.