THE NATION'S SECRETS.

Hokitika Guardian, 6 September 1918, Page 4

THE NATION'S SECRETS.

— A GALLANT DEED. (By Lieutenant F. J. Sleatli, in Egyptian Mail ) No matter how jealously guarded the secret of a particular type of aeroplane may be while the machine is building, sooner or later, once the plane has passed into service, the enemy will bring one down and find out all he wants to know about it. By that time, however, such a start will have been gained on him, that the type may be obsolescent before he can turn out an imitation. It all depends how soon he secures his sample after the machine leaves the manufacturers’ hands. It was this consideration which weighed most heavily with a certain British pilot and his observer when they came down in the sea with the latest flying-boat that British makers had turned out.

They had been well out. to sea, flj’ing fairly low, when a fog had suddenly cut them off from the rest of their companions. The pilot had immediately headed for home, but a tew seconds later the revolution indicator had suddenly shown an alarming drop, steadily decreasing until the pointer swung past the number which represented bare flying speed. There was nothing for it but to come down, and pushing forward the control lever before the machine itself dived headlong into the sea, the pilot brought the boat to rest on the silent waters. Without a word to his observer he hastily climbed up to the engine to see if it was in his power to make good the defect. A glance showed him that only a repair shop and a squad of expert mechanics could hope to tackle the job successfully. His face was slightly more grave when he climbed down to the bull again. But a quick smile stole over his features as he turned to his observer. The latter was curled up in his seat whistling drowsily—“ Wait till the clouds roll by.” It was impossible to feel depressed in the company of this light-hearted youth, who had been playing for his school when the war broke out, and was still a schoolboy at heart though a veteran in service. “Are you going to make thef works go wound again, daddy ? ” asked the observer. “ Can’t be done, my son,” said the pilot. “We shall have to wait on someone coming along to pick us up.” “ I suppose the fog will lift soon, and give our chaps a sight of us. Wake me up belore they . come,” and snuggling still further down into his seat the observer went to sleep. *■*•** *

Hour after hour went by, and still the fog hung about them. The night drew on, the pale opalescence drenching the misty particles faded away. The boat pitched lazily to the gentle swell, and no sound came out of the surrounding blackness save the lap ! lap ! lap ! of the waters against the hull, and sometimes the low crj’ of a sea fowl, wakened suddenly from its sleep calling for its mate drifting several swells away. The pilot sat up on the deck combing, and listened intently for the slightest sign of approaching rescuers, while behind him down in the cockpit slept the boy dreaming of home. “Are we still here?” The observer’s low whisper sounded like a roar to the pilot’s straining ears. “Go to sleep, sonny,” said the pilot. “ 1 11 call you for the morning watch.” But the boy sat up in his seat and .began listening as intently as the pilot to every sound drifting over the undulating waste around him. He bad not his comrade’s knowledge of navigation, and djfl not know that the current was taking

them further away from the home shores and nearer the track of the! enemy patrols. But he sensed the awkwardness of their situation, and all through the night he watched with his companion, although pretending to be asleep; and his was the voice which broke the silence when the first hint of dawn showed up the eastern horizon. “The fog has cleared,” he said. “Jolly good business ! We’re sure to be picked up now. They will turn out the whole of the Grand Fleet if necessary to search for a craft like this.” “ Sure to, sonny,” said the pilot, routing out and dividing up their store of chocolate. “ Supposing we are sighted by an enemy patrol first,” ventured the 'boy a little later. “We’d have to sink this old cockle-shell. I don’t suppose there’s much chance of that, though. Do you ?” “We should,” said the pilot, ignoring tlie final query—he knew that there was every chance. He glanced significantly over at the bombs as they hung, ready for dropping, under each spreading wing. The boy followed the glance and nodded. “Yes, that would be tlie best way,” lie said, as coolly as though he were deciding on a change in tlie tactics of his side during a hard fought game.

The pilot suddenly peered forward into the morning grey, then rising quickly lie climbed to the upper plane. The observer glanced eagerly over the shadowy waters. Far on the horizon was a little black smudge growing steadily -m size, and behind it another smudge, and another. It was a patrol flotilla fast approaching them. Britisli or German? More probably" German from the direction. But tlie pilot was smiling when he climbed down from the plane. “ Is it British then ?” exclaimed the boy. “ No, it is German, my sou,” said tlie pilot. “Oil, what rotten luck! And our fellows can’t be far away either.” “Is your lifebelt on securely?” asked the pilot. “Yes!” “ Well, get over the side and swim as hard as you can.” “ But dont you want me to help. . .’’ “Get over the side,” said the pilot curtly, and there was that in his voice which made the junior man instantly obey. "Good-bye, sonny,” be added as the observer slipped into the water. “It is my privilege, you know.”

About two hundred yards away the observer paused and looked back at the disabled plane. The pilot was crouched on the top of the wing under-plane just over die bomb rack, with a heavy spanner in his upraised hand ready to strike a blow. A mile away the first German destroyor was tearing the sea in twain in nervous haste to salve the coveted trophy and get away before the appearance of the dreaded British patrols. The observer turned and swam away from the tragedy which he knew was about to happen. #•* * * There,came the roar of a mighty explosion. He heard the swish of the air blast along the surface waters, and the rush of the approaching wave from the greater sea disturbance. The wave engulfed him just as he began to hear the splash and patter of the falling debris, and in the blackness of its heart his senses swam into unconsciousness. He was still sobbing deliriously when the British patrol boat picked him up an hour later. But on the long steam homeward he recovered sufficiently to tell the story of hbw a gallant man died that a jealously guarded secret might be preserved to the nation for just a little while longer.