The Zeppelin Destroyer/Chapter XVII
CHAPTER XVII
NOT COUNTING THE COST
From our aviation map—a plan of the country unfamiliar to most people—we had ascertained that about fourteen miles away, in a direct line due east from Holly Farm, and about three miles beyond the little town of Mayfield, lay a small village called Stockhurst.
The reasons why it attracted us were twofold. First the church was situated alone at some little distance from the village, and, secondly, it possessed an unusually high, pointed spire.
Therefore on the following morning Teddy and I took the car, and after going round by the high road which took us eighteen miles, through Maresfield, Buxted, and across Hadlow Down, we at last, after going along a picturesque lane, then brown and leafless, arrived at the long, straggling village street of Mayfield, a quiet old-world place, far removed from the noise and bustle of the world at war. Most of the homely cottages were thatched, and the whole place was typical of the charm of rural Sussex. As we passed slowly along we saw upon our right an ancient comfortable-looking inn with its big stableyard at the side, the 'A. A.' badge and a sign which told us that it was 'The George.' Yet, farther on, an incongruous note was struck by a glaring red-brick shop called 'The Stockhurst Stores.'
That morning was bright and crisp, with a clear blue sky. Indeed, before we had left we noted that the barometer was rising, and that the flight conditions were hourly improving.
A little way out of the village we came upon the fine old ivy-covered church, with a tall spire of a type similar to that of St. Martin's in Trafalgar Square, while the dimensions of the aisle showed that it had been built in the long ago medieval days when Stockhurst had been one of the important market-towns of that district, until other and more convenient markets had sapped its trade, and it had slowly dwindled down to an obscure little place known only by reason of the monumental brasses and beautiful stained glass of its church, which Thomas Cromwell had happily spared.
Pulling up the car, I placed a file, a pair of heavy cutting-pliers, a piece of asbestos cloth and a short length of copper-wire cable in my pockets and, with Teddy, wandered through the graveyard in pretence of inspecting the exterior of the beautiful castellated fabric. By some arched windows we saw that its earlier portions were undoubtedly Norman,, while others were of the Perpendicular Period. These we examined, and discussed, in order not to attract the undue attention of anybody in the vicinity.
We tried all the doors, much gratified, in secret, to find them locked. It proved the absence of any sexton or cleaner.
During our inspection of the church tower we had noticed the exact spot where descending from the spire ran the narrow flat strip of copper connecting the lightning-conductor with its earth-plate. We sauntered back to that place, where in the angle of the ancient flint wall, beside one of the heavy buttresses the metal strip went straight down into the turf. The copper was much oxidized, for it had been placed there many years ago for the protection of the steeple during thunderstorms.
'We mustn't lose time,' I muttered to Teddy. 'Can you see anybody about?'
'No. All's clear,' he declared. 'I'll watch, while you do it!'
I went quickly across to the wall and at a spot about five feet from the ground behind a big laurel bush I pulled the strip away from the wall with my fingers and worked at it with file and pliers, until I had severed it.
Then, at about a foot nearer the ground, I made a nick in the copper with my file and bent it until it broke, leaving a portion of the conductor about a foot long in my hand. This I at once concealed beneath the bush, while I placed a strip of asbestos cloth against the wall beneath each of the loose ends of the copper conductor, the latter holding the protective cloth in position upon the wall. Then, when I had concluded the work to my satisfaction, I pushed back the shrub so as to conceal as far as possible the damage to the lightning-conductor, and rejoined my friend.
'I'm afraid the rector wouldn't much approve of our work—if he knew,' laughed Teddy, as we returned to the car.
'No,' I said, adding, 'I suppose you'll spend a pretty quiet day in this place, won't you?'
'Yes. The George looks comfortable, but not too cheerful,' was Teddy's reply. 'What time shall you fly over?'
'Just after ten. The whole village should be in bed by then. You go out of the hotel just before the place shuts, and wander up here and watch. Theed, after seeing us off, will jump into the car and come over for you at once. Meanwhile, after the experiment, you can employ your time in connecting up the broken conductor with the bit of wire cable. I've left it all ready under the bush.'
'By Jove, Claude!' he said enthusiastically. 'I shall be standing there eager to see whether it sparks across when you turn on the current.'
'I shall do so four times—judging the distance at five hundred, one thousand, two thousand, and three thousand yards,' I said. 'Then I shall flash you two shorts from the searchlight to show you that I've finished. Understand?'
'Quite. Afterwards I shall wait about for Theed to pick me up,' Teddy replied. 'I do hope we shall meet with success.'
'We ought. The points of the lightning-conductor should pick up the intense current. We've proved the theory on our insulated guys upon the wireless-pole,' I said in confidence. 'But, of course, we don't want to attract too much attention here. So make up some feasible story at the hotel after I've left you there.'
Ten minutes later we were in the old-fashioned bar-parlour of the George, where the tables were highly polished by the spilt ale of generations, and where the landlady, a buxom widow in a cap, greeted us courteously.
I stayed for a quarter of an hour, and smoked a cigarette. Then, rising, I said loudly:
'Well—you go over and see about it. Make the best bargain you can. But don't pay more than ninety to ninety-five. Jack will run over in the car for you sometime this evening.'
And so giving the landlady the idea that my friend was about to go out and do business with some neighbouring farmer, I went out and drove as rapidly as I could back to Holly Farm.
That afternoon I spent with Theed tuning up in the yard, running the dynamo, making tests of the searchlight, manipulating the dual controls, and seeing to my altimeter and other instruments. I intended that, as far as was humanly possible, there should be no hitch of any kind.
Roseye, in her mechanic's overalls, helped me eagerly. Her small hands, so white and delicate at the Savoy or the Carlton, were now oily and grimy, and across her chin was a smudge of oil, giving her an almost weird and comical appearance.
'Well?' she asked. 'And what does it matter, pray? I haven't my best frock on, nor my newest crêpe-de-chine blouse.'
Yes. She was a real 'sport.' She knew as much of aircraft as most pilots in the services, and could effect a repair as well as most of the cigarette-smoking mechanics of the Royal Flying Corps. Women, when they take to flying aeroplanes, are often too daring, and take risks at which men would hesitate. Roseye was an illustration. I had often stood in breathless fear watching her bank in a manner that I should never have dared to, yet she had come to ground lightly as a bird, and hopped out of her seat laughing with the pure joy of living the exhilarating life in the air.
Truly the cobwebs are blown away from the brains and lungs of those who fly. Indeed, it is a chilly proceeding, even when indulged in during the dog days. Motoring without a wind-screen is considered rough by many people, but let them fly an aeroplane at forty miles an hour at 8,000 or 10,000 feet on any day. It is always chilly in the air, and by our thermometer that afternoon we both knew that we should have a cold night-flight.
Beyond the little front garden of the farm, a square ill-kept grass patch, bordered by neglected standard roses, was a big grass-field, while beyond lay the open down sloping away to the valley. At each corner of the field we had already placed big acetylene lights, ready charged, so that after we left, old Theed could light them to show us our landing-place, for a descent at night is always dangerous, especially if there is no landmark and the night be dark.
Through those exciting days of our sojourn at Holly Farm, I, assisted by Teddy and Roseye, had worked night and day attending to every detail. Indeed, at six o'clock that very morning—almost before the grey dawn—I had gone round to these four lamps, the intense white light of which would be visible for many miles, and lit and tested them in order to assure myself that all was in working order.
The afternoon wore on. Mulliner brought us out cups of tea into the yard, for we were far too anxious and busy to think of the afternoon gossip. The days were lengthening, of course, but we found them all too short. This final experiment that we were undertaking would prove whether, after all, we had any effective defence against the terror of the night—or not.
Try how I would, I could not put entirely away from myself the growing suspicion that, if spies had been so watchful, they would now be increasingly eager and ingenious in their endeavour to combat us. Once I laughed at those who told us there were German spies about us—I denounced them as scaremongers. But hard facts, shown to us in black and white, shown to us in prosecutions and actual executions of spies, had convinced me—as they must have convinced every Briton unless he were a pro-German or a lunatic—that dastardly secret agents existed even in the most unsuspected quarters, and that the Invisible Hand had been responsible for many a disaster to the British arms on land and at sea.
Would that Hand still bring disaster upon myself?
Daylight faded—and quickly. The evening was calm and clear, with an orange glow of sunset in the west.
All was in readiness. My machine, with its big dual engines, its searchlight, its dynamo, and that most deadly apparatus contained in the brown deal box, stood in the yard running like clockwork, all its controls in order, every strainer taut, every nut locked, and the wooden petrol-container filled.
All that was required was to wheel it out into the big grass-field and give the propeller a start.
Roseye and I ate a frugal meal alone. Mulliner, who served it, must have commented inwardly upon our unusual silence. We generally chattered merrily. Truth to tell, my mind was just then too full for words. If the test succeeded, then all would be well, and Great Britain could defy the enemy's Zeppelins. If it failed, I would not only be ruined—for I had borrowed money to reconstruct my machine—but I should know that all my theories had been blown to the winds, and that the enemy's bombastic threats to set London in flames were no idle ones.
Roseye, reading my thoughts, became also pensive. The hour of our great trial was now at hand.
Even as we sat at table we could hear the quick throb of the engines for a few moments, and then they were cut off. Theed was busy getting everything in order.
Darkness had fallen.
There was scarcely a breath of wind; the stars shone brightly in the steely-blue heavens, and the barometer was steadily rising.
'A splendid night for flying!' I declared, and as Roseye stood with me upon the threshold my arm stole lightly around her waist.
'Yes, dear,' was her reply, as she stood gazing away at the surrounding hills silhouetted against the night sky.
The silence was intense. From the distance, far away from the depth of the opposite valley, came the noise of a train on the main line which ran between London and the sea.
We both looked across the starlight scene, and wondered.
It was only half-past eight, so we went back into the farmer's best room, and sat before the logs chatting.
In those strenuous days we were seldom alone together. Yet, full well, I knew how she reciprocated my affection, and how her every thought was for my welfare.
Yes. We loved each other truly, and my life would have been one of the most perfect bliss were it not for that gulf of suspicion that had been opened by her inexplicable disappearance. That hour, however, was not the one in which to recall it, so I crushed down its bitter memory. Roseye was mine—and mine alone.
'You really want to go up with me to-night, darling?' I asked, as I again sat beside her upon the frayed old couch before the big blazing fire. 'You are not afraid?'
'I fear nothing, Claude, when I am with you,' she replied, raising her big blue eyes to mine. And then my lips met hers in a long, rapturous caress.
In the dim light of the cheap paraffin lamp upon the table I saw that her expression was one of complete trust and devoted affection. How could I doubt her further?
And yet the motive of her absolute refusal to tell me the truth concerning where she had been was veiled in mystery. It was an enigma that had puzzled me to distraction.
'Remember, darling,' I said, 'you have never before flown at night. We have no landmarks, and can only guide by the compass. Towns and villages which, in normal times, can be easily identified, are now blotted out by the lighting regulations, and even when we find our church spire, our landing-place here may be difficult to discover.'
'But it will be lighted, and we shall see it,' she said. 'If we steer by the compass for Stockhurst, Teddy—hearing our approach—will show us flashes from his lamp.'
'I hope so. He's had a weary job I expect in that dead-alive place all day,' I laughed.
'No doubt. But by this time he's active enough,' she replied.
And then we both lit cigarettes, for she was very fond of my own particular brand—one that I had found in the ward-room of one of our battle-cruisers before the war, and had always smoked since.
The cheap American clock upon a side table crept slowly on. Both of us were impatient. We waited still half-past nine, when Theed came in to report that all was in readiness. Would I help to wheel out the machine into the grass-field, he asked.
This I did. The three of us, including Roseye, put out the monoplane into position, pointing eastwards away from the trees, and facing the valley where, in the bright starlight, we saw that a faint grey mist was now rising.
Afterwards we returned into the farm-house and I helped Roseye into her flying suit, with its strapped wind-cuffs and wide belt. She loosened her wealth of hair and, twisting it up deftly, without pins, placed it beneath her leather helmet, after which she stuffed her padded gloves into her pocket.
'It's going to be cold,' I said. 'I hope you're warm enough, darling?' I asked anxiously.
'Quite,' she assured me. 'My suit is wind-proof.'
Very quickly I also got into my kit—a kit I had used for months, because in an experiment of that sort one wants to be hampered with nothing new. Then, when we were both ready for the flight, we went into the field and, climbing into our seats, buckled the straps across us.
Theed junior and his father were attending to us, the former being at the propeller and in readiness.
'As soon as we've gone, jump into the car and go out for Mr. Ashton,' I said to the younger man. 'You'll find him somewhere near Stockhurst church.' He knew the road, for he had gone over it on the previous day in order to explore.
'Right, sir! I'll get away at once and leave father to light the flares for landing,' was his reply.
Then, one after the other, I made tests. First, I ran the engine, then I switched on the small light which showed our compass, the map in its celluloid cover, the altimeter, and the other instruments ranged before me. Afterwards I switched on the search-light which for a few seconds shot a white beam of intense brilliancy towards the sky.
Having proved to my satisfaction that both engines the and dynamo were working well, I shouted the word to Theed.
In a few seconds there was a sudden throb of the engine which instantly developed into such a roar that to speak to Roseye at my side became quite impossible.
We shot forward into the darkness, a sharp gust of wind struck our faces, we bumped for a few seconds along the ground, and then left the earth, the noise of the powerful engines almost splitting the drums of our ears.
I saw before me a belt of trees and, pulling over the lever, rose above them, described a semicircle, and then, watching my compass, rose at once and headed for Stockhurst church, where I knew Teddy was anxiously awaiting our arrival.
I know that Roseye, with the icy wind cutting her eyes, lowered her goggles, but after that I fear I became too occupied to notice anything further.
It was a wild night-flight, and I knew that both our lives were now in jeopardy.