stared with wide-open eyes at something not more than a hundred yards distant above the surface of the water.

"A periscope, by Jove!" he exclaimed, making a grab at his maps and papers. They, at all events, had to be destroyed.

Although his companion heard not a sound his attention was attracted by Kirkwood's manner. He, too, saw the spar-like object forging slowly ahead--so slowly that the cleavage of the water was insufficient to throw up the usual tell-tale feather of spray.

Deliberately, almost human-like, the eye of the periscope turned slowly in a complete circle. The submarine, satisfied that there was no immediate danger to be antic.i.p.ated, shook herself clear of the water, disclosing her conning-tower and a portion of the hull of one of the British G Cla.s.s.

Hardly able to credit their good fortune the flight-sub and his companion thrust their maps into their pockets and began to wave for a.s.sistance a quite unnecessary act since the lieutenant-commander of G 21 had already concluded rightly that the airmen were his compatriots in distress.

Five or six of her crew appearing on the long, narrow deck, the ungainly hull of the submarine, skilfully manoeuvred, approached sufficiently close to enable Kirkwood to catch a coil of rope, and the seaplane was hauled alongside.

"Jump, sir!" shouted a petty officer.

Although unable to hear the words Barcroft understood the gesture.

He waited until his observer had leapt, then seizing a small axe from the body of the fuselage, he shattered each of the frail floats, and as his command sank beneath his feet he scrambled up the bulging side of the rescuing submarine.

"Barcroft's deaf and dumb," Kirkwood explained to a sympathetic lieutenant. "You'd better look sharp. There are a dozen strafed torpedo-boats after us."

"P'raps it's as well if we do," commented the officer. "I'll trouble you for your yarn when we are snugly down below."

In less than a minute the crew and the rescued airmen were hermetically sealed in the hull of G 21, and descending to a depth of fifteen fathoms the submarine rested upon the bed of the North Sea until the German torpedo-craft, foiled in their endeavour to locate their quarry, steamed back to the security of the inner roadstead of Heligoland.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX

AND LAST

A WEEK later found Flight-sub-lieutenant Barcroft a patient in a large Naval Hospital somewhere on the East Coast. His case was an interesting one as far as the medical officers were concerned, but far from it from a strictly personal point of view. The medicos, expressing their belief in their ability to restore the young officer's powers of speech and hearing, were unremitting in their attentions, so far without success.

Billy, after the first fit of despondency had pa.s.sed, was still far from sanguine as to the result of the numerous operations and experiments performed by the hospital staff. Unable to communicate with any one except by means of paper and pencil, he had already come to the conclusion that his flying days were over. He might hope for a partial restoration of his lost senses, but nothing more.

There was one thought to console him. He had not been rendered blind by the terrific glare as his gigantic victim was blown sky high. The blessing of sight was still his.

It irritated him beyond measure to see other patients conversing, to watch their lips move, their expressive gestures of understanding, and yet to live in an atmosphere of profound silence. It was humiliating to have to approach a fellowcreature and laboriously commit to paper a request for a most trivial thing; exasperating to follow the comparatively tedious pencil as the person addressed in this manner wrote his reply.

Still living in hopes Barcroft had studiously concealed the news of his affliction from his parents and from Betty. His letters to them were as light and cheerful as of yore, yet he felt that they were a sham. Sooner or later, unless medical science was able to conquer the baffling case, he would be compelled to have to admit that he was--a useless enc.u.mbrance: those were his thoughts.

Almost every one of his brother airmen had visited him since his arrival at the hospital, for the "Hippodrome," having returned to her base, was lying in harbour almost within sight of the huge building. Some tried, rather dismally, to be funny, hoping to cheer their luckless comrade; others were so sympathetic that they depressed Billy almost to a state of desperation. It was difficult to appear at ease in the presence of a deaf and dumb man--and Barcroft knew it.

One afternoon John Fuller came to see him. It was the second visit that day. The lieutenant was practical even when in the presence of his afflicted shipmate, for instead of sitting down and laboriously writing out the preliminaries to a long-drawn-out conversation he drew a paper from his pocket and handed it to his chum. And this is what Barcroft read:--

"Congrats, old man. Just heard from 'topsides,' absolutely official: the battleship you strafed was the 'Schlesien,' complement 660. Our skipper has put in a claim on your behalf at 5 pounds a head. Unless the judge decides that the prize money is to be divided between the 'Hippo's' ships-company, which is unlikely, Kirkwood and you split 3,300 pounds between you. You are also promoted to Flight-lieutenant and have been awarded the V.C. and Kirkwood the D.S.O. You'll see that in to-morrow's _Gazette_."

For a full half-minute Barcroft looked with strained inquiry at his chum. His head seemed whirling round and round, then like a roar from a cannon something seemed to beat upon his ear-drums.

"It's too good to be true," he said.

"Absolute fact," replied Fuller. "Bless my soul, Billy, you can speak!"

"And hear, too," almost shouted the delighted newly-fledged lieutenant. "Come along, John; I'm off to the telegraph office. Keep on speaking, old bird. It's a delight. I hardly expected to hear you again."

The hospital post-office was at the far end of the building.

Entering the somewhat crowded room, Billy, with a trembling hand, filled in a form and gave it to a girl clerk.

The girl took the form, counted the words and scribbled something on a piece of paper and offered it to the flight-lieutenant.

"Thank you," said Billy smiling. "But it isn't necessary now, thank Heaven. I can both speak and hear."

"I am glad, Mr. Barcroft," replied the girl, who knew all about the circ.u.mstances under which he had received his injuries. "Reply paid?

That will be eighteen-pence. You may get a reply in an hour."

The telegram that Billy had dispatched was to Miss Betty Deringhame.

It was:

"Am applying for leave. Will you fulfil your promise?"

After a seemingly interminable wait Billy's reply was received.

His message consisted of nine words; hers of one only: "Yes."

It was all that Flight-lieutenant Barcroft, V.C., desired. His cup of happiness was filled to overflowing.

THE END