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Title of Story
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Eagles of Queensland
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Attributed Author
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Delaware
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Year For Sorting
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1930
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Future Year Set
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Contemporary
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Story Summary
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The Bulyon brothers are Australian inventors serving in the British navy. The older brother develops an advanced airship able to destroy German airships discovered approaching British territory. The younger brother develops a wireless energy case that sits in a boat and is able to send out a powerful wave that disables the electronics in german airplane engines. [This could be interpreted as a machine that can generate an Electromagnetic Pulse (EMP)]
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Critical Introduction
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Commonly, children's stories were either not credited or the credit was a code name. In this case, Delaware. I do not know who this person is but based on the contents of the story they might be a British person recently moved to Queensland. The story is set at a British naval base with two inventive Australians supporting the defense of Britain. Two major inventions feature. One, an advanced airship that can destroy Zeppelins and Two, a wireless energy system "radiating a peculiar form of continuous wave" which knocks several German planes out of the sky, and operates like an electromagnetic pulse system (EMP) While neither invention is explained in great depth, this short story points to the Australian characters as being inventive, perhaps reflecting Australia's high patent applications and invention rush period.
It is interesting that this short story features the death of two heroes, considering that it was considered good enough for children. With grief, remorse and revenge illustrated, it shows the still prevalent view at the time that children were just smaller adults.
"""You know, it's an experimental machine, sir—Geoff.'s, I mean," ventured the youngster, unable- to repress his excitement. "It's his own brainwave." "Is that so?" was the preoccupied chief's response. "Yes, sir," said the boy in a greatly heartened tone. "The fuselage and wings are made of light tubes of titanium-steel and are filled with hydrogen. Geoff, reckons he can climb faster than anything yet built." "Indeed." •-• .. -"Yes, sir," Bulyon replied, laughing at his own excited garrulity. "And she's driven by an electric motor of his—Geoff.'s—own design, and the batteries are an improved type cf nickelchloride—the same as I shall use."
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Science
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Electromagnetic Radiation
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Aeronautics
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Inventions
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Advanced Airship
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Wireless Electromagnetic Pulse System
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Science Extrapolations
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A machine that delivers an Electromagnetic Pulse to disrupt machines that run on electricity
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Airship that is bigger, faster, made of titanium-steel and filled with hydrogen along with nickelchloride batteries
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Science Fiction Subgenres
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Invention Opera
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Future War
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Date Details Added to IA
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March 2025
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Nationality
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Australian
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Single or Serialised
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Serialised
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First Published Date of Last Installment
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1930/10/09
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Date Range
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1930-10-09
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Number of Installments
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Six chapters split across several issues
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Complete or Supplemented
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Complete
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Estimated Word Count
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7000
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Length
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Short Story
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Links in To Be Continued
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NA
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Newspaper Name Location Years
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The Queenslander Illustrated Weekly (Brisb, Qld)
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Location Town City
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Brisbane
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Location State Territory
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Queensland
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Provincial or Metro
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Metro
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Language
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English
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Copyright
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This story is out of copyright until an author can be determined.
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Apply for Access to Any Media Held by IA
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To access the associated media with this item, please register / login as a guest researcher via the menu.
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Content Advisory
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These items are historical texts digitised from their original publication, and reflects the social attitudes, cultural values, and language of the time in which they were created. Some content may include depictions or references that are racist, sexist, ableist, colonialist, or otherwise offensive by contemporary standards. This material is presented uncensored for scholarly, archival, and educational purposes. It serves as a record of past cultural attitudes and is preserved here to support critical engagement, historical reflection, and the advancement of inclusive scholarship. Reader discretion is advised.
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OCR from TBC and Trove
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EAGLES OF QUEENSLAND. CHAPTER I. By DELAWARE.
"HELLO, 'Bovril'—you big black smudge!" The vociferous greeting rang out with clearness in the startling crisp, frosty, November sunshine, and the tall, sun burnt Australian laughed as he noted the varied and assorted grins, growls, and glowers his cry brought to the faces of a near-by group of mechanics who toiled like feverish ants around a huge Handley-Page bomber. Lieuten ant Lancelot Bulyon—Naval Intelligence Department of his Britannic Majesty's Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve—did not, however, care a "continental" whether these myrmidons of Aeolus ap proved of his observations or not—his chief concern at the moment was to attract the attention of another of these "ants" who was at the far*end of the flying field. v His hawk-like eyes—cattle-trained and bush-nurtured by years of station life in Western Queensland—had spotted the lanky frame of his brother where the blind eyes of a pavement-walker would not have ben able to separate men from 'planes, or huts from trees. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Lance Bulyon again* directed his brotherly greeting towards the small army of busybodies who surged around an immense boat-shaped craft, -vhich, raised clear of the ground- by more than a man's height, flashed and glit tered in the watery sunlight. THIS time the visitor added the long' drawn, wailing notes of an abori ginal bush-calL The haunting echoes of the cry caused the knot of workers who worshipped the glittering idol to stand 'in their tracks and turn to wards the new-comer with mystified, challenging countenances. Imperceptibly they glided towards each other, instinctively seeking tonide the object of their worship from pry- Ing eyes. Then, actuated by a com mon impulse, five or six of the ido laters moved slowly towards the rapid ly-approaching figure, which was ar rayed in-civilian clothes—hostility and mistrust seething in their minds. Be fore these defenders had covered two or three paces a quiet, almost sound less chuckle broke the tension. "TTS quite all right, boys—that goat's * my kid brother," came a smiling assurance which instantly allayed any fears entertained by the worshippers of that glittering fabrication—for ;he soothing voice belonged to Wing-Com mander Geoffrey Bulyon—one of the British Air Force heroes—their com manding officer—and the designer and pilot of. the burnished, polished, shim mering, all-metal flying boat PX 10. "Hello, 'Oxo,' ydu silly young goat. What d'you mean by ambling along here in that rigout? Qne of these days a sentry'll pot you—and it'll be your own flamln fault" ' "Silly goat yourself, Geoff. How could I put on my blanky glad rags? . I'm A.W.L., old son." z "You're what?" gasped Wing T Com mander Bulyon, somewhat aghast at the younger man's nonchalance. " 'S'quiteohkay, you blessed old infant," returned the other grandilo quently. "Old 'Pigwhiskers' wouldn't give me leave officially, but said he didn't care what I did so long as 1 reported in the bright and' gladsome morning. So me bin cumalong." The words brought a slow, embrac ing smile to the eyes of the elder war rior. ""TkINKUM, Lance?" he questioned. ?J 'Dinky-di, Boy. Me tellem true fellah," . replied the junior officer, looking frankly and affectionately at his gallant brother and saluting with mock humility. "Good-oh, kid. What d'you think of her?" he nodded his head towards the 'plane. -"Isn't she a beauty? Officially she is FX 10—but I call her the •Wonga.'" The words were filled with the thrill of achievement, and Lance Bulyen sensed - the pulsating, happy pride which surged through his father's eld est son—and shared it. "My oath, old man, she's bonzer," he responded, as they walked towards the monster craft. "Jove—it's hard to realise that after all the delays and obstructions—after all the infernal knock-backs through red-tapeism, brass-hatism, and all the other blanky 'isms—you've actually built her." "I can hardly believe it myself yet, Lance." admitted the flier with a long, thankful sigh. "You remember how 'fed-up' I was the last time I saw you? Well, I'd pretty nearly decided to chuck up the whole business, I even began to have serious doubts whether the whole damned idea wasn't, after all, absolutely mad. Then came rush in structions to report to G.H.Q." (To be continued.)
CHAPTER I.—(Continued).
"I FLEW over in the time-honoured way, expecting nothing more than the usual gag—testing a new machine," Geoffrey Bulyon told his brother;
"but as soon as I stood in front of old
Enderby's big desk he barked out 'How long will it take you to build that .damn-fool machine of yours, Commander?' Stone-the-crows! I just gasped like a landed mullet and treated: 'About three months, sir,'— for all the world like one of our little native bears. Enderby seemed a bit perplexed and looked hard at me, and then spat it out,—'Report at Croydon immediately, and commence building it.' 'Holy smoke!' laughed Geoffrey. "I could see that the old boy was in a dickens of a temper about something and his- eyes f aisly sizzled as he glared at me. I felt like a man who has . just had his landing gear shot away and- his engine gone 'phut.' I just stood until the giddy motion subsided
a bit, and pulled myself together to salute the old buffer: and what d'ypu think the siUy old goat did? He came over to me and wished me luck and shook hands." -"Old Enderby!". • "Yes, old 'Hen or Glory' Enderby!" —and the air was rent by ringing peals of laughter. 'Well I'll be damned!" ejaculated Bulyon the younger, "Blanky wonders never will blanky-well cease. ' When'll she be ready Geoff?" he added. "She's practically finished now—but I can't get. the hydrogen until the week-end. Hope there's no excitement before 'then or I'll be frozen out, breather the other ardently. "Why worry, you old fathead," placated the Naval Lieutenant with turgidity. "There'll still be plenty* of Zepps and Gotha*—for the next few months, at anyrate." he added slowly. THE deliberation which emphasised the last phrase, and the absurdly exaggerated nonchalance with which it was delivered, .^caused "Geoffrey Bulyon to turn his adoring gaze from
the flying boat and look sharply at the face of his brother. The burning cheeks, the sparkling eyes, and the whimsical smile which played around the upturned corners of the mouth told the boy's secret as plainly as could spoken words. "D'you mean it, sonny?" came Geoff's hoarse, eager cry. With a nappy smile spreading over his countenance Lance Bulyon nodded his head affirmatively. "Gee! Mum'll bust her apronstrings," he shrieked in a sudden burst of laughter—and the two sons of Llewellyn Bulyon—owner and occupier of Warramoowee, a cattle station almost midway between Longreach and Cloncurry, in the sunny State of. Queensland, clutched hands and indulged in the wild, jumping flurry of a weird aboriginal dance—an almost forgotten memory of their chHdhood days. The stolid mechanics, having no such memories, suspended their labours for the moment, and viewed the strange sight with tolerant amusement. rro see their officer-in-charge—the x victor in a dozen soul-stirring aerial combats—leaping and cavorting on the flying field with a civilian was more than enough to raise their astonisliment. But he was an Australian—in fact they apparently both were, and, well, all these "Aussies" were mad—mad as hatters. Not one of the onlookers had ever met an Australian who didn't show signs of mental abberatlon. Brave—you bet they were brave all right, and always in the thick of any trouble which was on hand. But all the same—mad; undeniably and hopelessly mad. Wing-Commander Geoffrey Bulyon. and Lieutenant Lancelot Bulyon, however, knew not, and recked not, of the pitying glances bestowed upon their antics. They were from that great mysterious island continent— believed by the average "Tommy" to be somewhere down near where the South Pole is reckoned to be—a place of monstrous marsupials, fierce and. marauding cannibal blacks, myriads of goldfields, incredible storms, and Socialists. Australia. T?UT the men who came from this J far land unmistakably proclaimed the fact that they were of a young, virile land. They had brought to England a further leavening, of Australian reckless daring, and, above all, of Australian initiative and invention. Both had landed in the cold, foggy Mother Country with a fixed, imswervable conviction that'the products of their brains would enable the Empire to cope with the new and increasing menace which rained death and destruction from the air. The harassed old "shell-backs" at the Air Ministry and the fierce old "sea-dogs" at the Admiralty yearned to fight the Empire's share of the World 'War by time-honoured, customary methods, and with irreproachable courtesy gracefully sidestepped the persistent demands of the two inventive Queenslanders. - ITO be continued.)
CHAPTER I.—(Continued.)
DELAWARE
MINOR calamities and misfortunes soon awakened the "Brass Hats" to the need for devices and contriv-<*> ances up till that time undreamed of,
and official indifference was transformed into eager search and questing for means of combating the talented and adroit inventiveness of the enemy. . That each of the Bulyons should have evolved his own method of overcoming the peril from the skies was merely the inevitable outcome of their natural aptitude and independence; that they should be simultaneously commissioned to .produce their ideas in concrete form was purely the adventitious functioning of Destiny. The dance of exultation finished, the two performers stood facing each other,
perspiring and panting, entirely bereft of a single further happiness they could demand of the gods. Suddenly the younger boy's face clouded. "What about the formula for the gas dope on the wings and that—and the engine ? Are they safe?" "Safe as a 'possum at the top of an old gum tree!" airily replied the other. "They're all securely locked up." he grinned, and, tapping Ills forehead, .added, "All in here." • '-'But. Geoff.," returned his brother -pensively, "I think you ought to put it all on paper and entrust it to some reliable person—you never know what might happen." v "Not on your life, Sonny. What I've got here is worth a fortune —ani I'm going to prove it. While ths Old
Country needs the nnumnes I'll ouild them and expect nothing in return. But, Lance, when this flamin' war to over somebody's going to pay a lot of money to yours truly for the Bulyon electric 'plane." •VPHATS all right, Geoff.," insisted Lance seriously. "But suppose the blighters have the infernal luck to pot you, and the 'bus crashes ? " "Be your age, kid," laughed the aviator, "Once I am up there isn't a machine that'll get within coo-ec of me. I'll be able to sit on my tail and climb two to their one, and if they attempt to follow me they'll stall their blanky 'buses and get into a beautiful tail-skid." "Yes—but supposing—er " "Oh, for goodness' sake, shut up and don't be so darn silly."
CHAPTER II. TJLUMP! Blump! Blump-blump! Whoorap!! Blump-ump-ump! Blump! The sound of distant firing at night always set London a-quiver—the women and children with fear, and the men with either anxiety, importance, anger, or desperation. When Sheerness "opened up" on a calm, starlight night there could be only one reason—an enemy air-raid. "Darkened London" became even darker still; all vehicular traffic extinguished its already carefully screened lights, and came to a standstill; electric mains were cut off at the sub-stations, and those of the populace who were in the streets were quickly shepherded to shelter. For a few breathless minutes nothing could be heard above the booming of warning maroons, the howling and shrieking of alarm sirens, and the screeching hiss of giant rockets. On the instant the smooth, velvety darkness was stabbed by myriads of gigantic fingers of light that swayed and quivered, circled and vibrated as they searched the floor of the heavens for Bight of the marauding craft. At every street corner, seemingly, out jumped a business-like civilian, who, buckling on his white armlet of office as a special constable, commanded all and sundry to "take cover." ITTOMEN and children were "bundled" to cellars, arcades, and underground railway stations, there to wait, huddled together, with wildly beating hearts, until the flying terror should have unloaded his cargo of death and destruction and winged his way whence he came,. Suddenly the scurrying "specials" halted, and peered eastward wtth straining eyes—two of the questing searchlights had ceased making their gargantuan strides across the wintry sky, and now held in their dazzling rays the object of their search. (To be continued.)
CHAPTER II.—(Continued.)
by "DEIAWAR E."
THE shimmering searchlights relent-<*> lessly kept the two airships in plain view—never for a 'second did the blinding shafts lose sight of the
invaders. "You know, it's an experimental machine, sir—Geoff.'s, I mean," ventured the youngster, unable- to repress his excitement. "It's his own brainwave." "Is that so?" was the preoccupied chief's response. "Yes, sir," said the boy in a greatly heartened tone. "The fuselage and wings are made of light tubes of titanium-steel and are filled with hydrogen. Geoff, reckons he can climb faster than anything yet built." "Indeed." •-• .. -"Yes, sir," Bulyon replied, laughing at his own excited garrulity. "And she's driven by an electric motor of his—Geoff.'s—own design, and the batteries are an improved type cf nickelchloride—the same as I shall use." > \\TARRINGTON smiled in the dark- * *v ness at the sudden irrepressible pride with which the young Australian eagerly imparted his skeleton knowledge of the elder Bulyon's invention. The commodore had been one of the men who, months ago, had strenuously advocated that permission should be granted Wing-Commander Bulyon to put his evolutionary ideas into practical form—but he forebore to shatter the young lieutenant's idolatrous rhapsody. Suddenly, across one jf the throbbing beams of light there flashed a long, lean, rakish machine which reflected the intense glare with almost mirror-like brilliance. "There she is, sir—that the Wonga!" cried the youthful Queenslander in-the ecstasy of complete self-forgetfumess. AND, sure enough, it was the Wonga, for with amazing and apparently effortless speed the ghostly, silent machine flew straight towards the Admiralty like a huge bird from the Arabian Nights-. $ As it approached the only sound which could be heard was the singing, slashing whir of the propeller as it dragged the curious, boat-shaped apparition through the air with amazing velocity.Seeming Seeming to sense the two tense figures on the roof of the huge building, the Wonga dived to within a bare twenty feet above the parapet and skimmed along the edge. "Geoff.—Geoff.—clean 'em up boyclean 'em up." yelled Lieutenant Lance Bulyon, R.N.V.R., Naval Intelligence Service, dancing in frenzied delight. "Good luck, Commander," shouted Commodore Warrington, R.K, V.C., D.5.0., Chief of the whole British Naval Intelligence Department. Whether Wins-Commander Bulyon heard the words, or whether it was purely a salute, is doubtful, but, ho ripped out a short burst on his machine gun, and. jerking the Wcnga to an almost vertical position, commenced climbing to meet the German raiders.
CHAPTER III. TN the space of seconds the machine ■*■ was lost to sight in the darkness, and the two anxious watchers waited for the next sign of it with feverish eagerness, not unmixed with a great deal of trepidation. The Commodore swung his binoculars towards the peacefully-gliding forms, which had passed still further . to the westward, and were very hjgh. Could the Wonga do it ? Both watchers now became unpleas
antly aware that to lift an all-metal 'plane up to where those airships were now cruising would generally be deemed a physical—or at least an aeronautical—impossibility, and it was rather remarkable that it was not until Geoff. Bulyon was actually on his way to intercept the giant Zeppelins that the question "could he do it?" took concrete shape in their brains. For, after all, the Wonga had never even been tested—she was still as yet the unproved creation of a. 'madman's' brain. "PRESENTLY one of the gigantic ten■*- tacles of light which converged on the two German airships detached itself from its fellows and began sweeping the heavens with impressive regulurity. From horizon to horizon it
swayed, halting every now and then to investigate some fleecy cloud or drift of shrapnel smoke—and then to proceed on its monotonous, fascinating traverse through space. Across and across it swung, now slowly, now quickly; now circling in a majestic arc, now cleaving the blackness like a knife as it leaped from corner to corner of the sky. There was a momentary flash—the groping arm of light halted, and then swung back over so slightly—and the next instant the Wonga flew into the tremulous beam a mere glittering point, which was rising towards the 'unsuspecting raiders at en amazing rate. Thankful relic! loosened the tautened nerves of the watches on the Admiralty roof, but the ne*t instant the calm, impassive Commodore qulokened into resolute action:— "Get below and tell Purfleet to douse that——searchlight, quick!" he cried in a voice which men instinctively obeyed, and, although taken completely by surprise, the young lieutenant pulled himself together without the loss of a split second. Yet, before, he had even stepped from the pile of sand* bags that steadfast, unwavering voice rapped out: . "Too late—he's gone." rpHE unnerving declaration seemed to -*• paralyse the boy's brain, and" he slid between the stacked sandbags with a deep groan. "Are you hurt, sonny?" came a di&r mayed query *rom the tall figure which bent down with quick comjniseration. . "N—no, sir." was the dazed reply. "Then spring to it, and send that message—l think your brother ha* .merely dived out of sight." (To be continued.)
A GREAT EXPLORER.
CHAPTER lll.—(Continued.) npiME dragged on laden wings to x Lance Bulyon as he scrambled back to the Chief's office, and the seemingly interminable suspense before he got his instructions through to the offending observation-post nearly drove him frantic. When, however, he reappeared beside his commanding officer, dry throated, panting, and quivering in every limb, Commodore Warrington was still looking intently at the enemy aircraft. "Have you seen him again, sir?" was his anxious interrogation. "Not yet, sonny," was the quiet, hopeful answer which set the lieutenant's heart pounding with renewed expectancy. The unearthly silence which reigned during the long, chilly vigil that followed was torture to the young Australian whose brother had so suddenly disappeared from sight, and his overwrought nerves could not dispel his vague feeling of dread when Warrington quietly announced : "He's with them." A TENSE, breathless stillness suc-**• ceeded this information, and then the Chief of the Naval Intelligence Service gave a sudden gasp. "He's engaging them—he's over them—they're firing the gun on top of their gasbag. "What, sir, what is it?" was the youngster's frantic appeal. "Your brother has just earned the Victoria Cross, my boy," replied the Commodore, with a thrill in his quiet voice, "Look!" Lance grabbed the binoculars his Chief held toward him, and focused them at the sky. One of the silver "cigars" had been "lit"—one of the "tips" had turned bright red. His fascinated eyes beheld that red tip grow larger and slowly sink, until the Zeppelin hung at an alarming angle. Suddenly the red tip leapt towards the centre of the "cigar" —and the German airship gradually stood vertically oh its nose—and then dived earthwards—a roaring mass of flames. Bulyon junior gazed in spellbound horror at the blazing inferno as it plunged headlong through space. It was a memorable sight—majestic in its terrific, devastating awesomeness— but shudderingly sickening. Yet it was but one of the innumerable incidents which are almost daily occurrences in modern, scientific warfare. Pride in his brother's daring was chilled by the vision of such an unexpected tragedy.COME COME inexplicable influence com-pelted Lance Bulyon to shift his gaze from the striken gasbag, and his heart literally stood still, his body frose rigid. . Just beyond the leaping tongues of flame which trailed from the doomed Zeppelin.. a bright, glittering object was rolling and swaying and tumbling like an autumn leaf falling from a tree. Over and over it rolled, flashing redly as its surface caught the light of the burning airship below it. Surely Geoff. Bulyon was not "stunt-
ing"? Surely—and yet, if . he wasn't ? And the tiuth burst upon the boy's consciousness—the Wonga was out of control. With the muscles of his body striving to bend him double, the dreadstricken Queenslander saw his brother's topping and tossing machine sink into the crackling vortex of smoke and flame, and, as victor and vanquished fell earthwards together, something in Lieutenant Lance Bulyon's brain and back seemed to snap, and he "keeled over" backwards—unconscious
CHAPTER IV. WING-COMMANDER BULYON'S tragic death in the very moment of his spectacular victory transformed his erstwhile gay and light-hearted brother into a morose and implacably bitter being. Mental toll and man-
ual labour alike seemed to have lost the power to absorb, or even seriously deplete, the vast accumulation of nervous energy which had suddenly been born within him. He worked with a silent fury that amazed yet frightened his brother officers, but not a word of his purpose was ever divulged to them. Even to Warrington he persisted in a tight-lipped, dogged refusal to disclose the secret of his invention. A resolute shake of the head and a tightening of his mouth and chin were the inevitable preludes to his refusal and his plea. "I'm sorry, sir—very sorry—but I simply must prove it before I tell you. it is my one sheet-anchor—my only hope of ever getting even on Geoff.'s account, and I feel that if I told you I should lose the force which is driving me—and then I'd simply go crazy. Moreover, sir, I couldn't return to Australia after what I have promised the old people, and admit that I'd never even tried—now, could I, sir?" (To be continued.)
Note that the following chapter was labelled IX continued in the newspaper. It should have been labelled IV continued, and it follows on directly.
A PAGE for the BOYS.
EAGLES OF QUEENSLAND.
CHAPTER IX. (continued.)
by "DELAWARE."
A WAVE of compassionate under-<*> standing kindled in the Commo-<*> dore's eyes, and he thoughtfully tapped the desk with a pencil.
"Lieutenant Bulyon," he said steadily, "I fully appreciate what you say—and I have already given you my word to allow you the chance of avenging your brother as soon as you have completed your machine. But* my boy," he added, rising to his feet and laying a hand on the other's shoulder, "you're overdoing it—and you're heading for a serious breakdown. I don't want to force your confidence against your express wish, nor to drag your secret from you before you are ready to tell me—l have sufficient faith in you to tell you that. But," he continued gently, "England lost your brother's secret through a terrible misfortune, and I don't want the same thing to happen again if your ideas prove valuable." "But, sir," broke in the youngster with eager pleading, "I shall riot bd risking the slightest danger." The chief looked at Lance Bulyon long and intently. "Very well, Lieutenant," he decided crisply, "let me know when you are ready to Install the machine, and you can try it out." "Thank you, sir—l hope I'll be ready In a few days' time,", responded the other, saluting, and Warrington, returning the salute, turned to the heterogenous collection of papers before him."nURING "nURING the next few days the capi-XJ tal of the British Empire suffered severely at the hands of the enemy air-raiders, and Lance Bulyon toiled harder and more feverishly than ever before. The morning which followed a particularly destructive and determined air raid found the young lieutenant eagerly seeking his chief—and a new, fierce light had stolen into his eyes, a new aggressiveness had invested his bearing, and a new contemptuousness and malevolence had invaded his speech. "Say the word now, sir, and I'll bring Count Zeppelin's head on a charger," he announced, somewhat facetiously, as he stood before the Commodore with ill-concealed selfelation. . „, _. Once again the cool, unruffled product of British Naval discipline looked hard and long at the slightly bombastic lieutenant. "I think it would be better if you carried out an exhaustive test-in conjunction with the Royal Air Force, Lieutenant, before dashing out to sea on a wild goose chase," was the musing comment, "You. must remember "'"YTO, '"YTO, no, sir, please! Let me have ■^ just one go on my own, and I'll be content to do anything you command. But, sir, do let me have the first 'crack' on my own—l—l feel as confident as—as —as confident as was my brother," he ended in a low voice, and Warrington. phenomenal observer and appraiser of humanity, thinker, worker, gentleman, and sportsman, felt his heart warming towards the still distraught young Queenslander, and knew that he intended acceding to the lieutenant's request."Is "Is everything absolutely in readiness
aboard 5.50, as far as you are concerned?" he queried crisply. "Everything, sir." -~ f "Then report to Lieutenant Curtis this morning. You will be instructed to search for any enemy aircraft which might be flying west of a line between Brown Ridge and the Hook. Beyond that you must not " The commodore's recital of these pfivate instructions was interrupted by a frantic "rattle" from one of tne telegraph sounders. The first click had sufficed to set his brain automatically reading the tumbling dots and dashes, and at the completion of the first two familiar groups of code words he abruptly ceased talking and concentrated his whole attention upon the message that tiny magnetic device was excitedly delivering. ■pOR a space of several minutes there was nothing to be heard in the, chief's roam but the nervous—and, to Lance utterly meaningless—jangle of
the sounder. At length the Commodore leaned bade in his chair, a hard, glinting light shining in his eyes. "Sit down, Bulyon," he ordered grimly. "There's a daylight raid en the way now." "A daylight raid? My hat, sir, they're getting cheeky." "Yes—or desperate." — Lance Bulyon stared in amazement at this imperturbable man who steadfastly refused-to become unnerved or dismayed- in the face of the most dangerous enemy onslaughts, and his admiration increased as the Commodore waited patiently tor his decoding staff to render the whole message intelligible. The younger found himself growing -restless under the suspense, and when at last a petty officer entered the room he sprang up with a quick return of his old-time enthusiastic eagerness. The figure at the table returned the P.O.'s salute with grave seriousness. "Thank you, Morris," he said quietly, and then added in slow, careful accents, "Order the Sunbeam to wait for Lieutenant Bulyon and then take him to Chatham as quickly as possible.*' (To be continued.)
Due to several problems with OCR on Trove, the title is associated with an unrelated article on several pages. Chapter IV continued was then associated under the article “Pooling Knowledge” It’s possible other external paragraphs may have been included in the OCR of the story. I’ve removed any that I notice at the time of assembling this record.
CHAPTER IV.—(Continued.) AS soon as the petty officer had left x the room Commodore Warrington rose and became the alert, quickthinking, energetic maker of important decisions. "There is evidently a big and very daring raid coming off. Scapa and Harwich logged a roU-call of seventeen 'planes when they reported to Borkum. It looks as though they started from Emden, or somewhere ' round the Dollart, and when they signalled their submarine base just now our chaps placed them about 15 or 20 miles south of Gronigen. I expect they will fly across the middle of the Zulder Zee, reaching the North Sea somewhere a little north of Ymuiden. You should encounter them almost due east of Outer Gabbard—if you can get there in time. "Get to Chatham as quickly as you can—by the time you are there I shall have given Lieutenant Curtis his instructions. But bear one thing in mind —if you cannot get to the Gabbard— or the Galloper—before sighting the raiders —don't interfere, but report to A.Y. immediately, so that our machines will have time to get in the air. Goodbye—and good luck—and remembereast of Outer Gabbard or keep out" "Good-bye, sir," panted Bulyon, as he grasped his chief's extended hand, and then fled to the waiting car below.
CHAPTER V. rpraE driver of the big Admiralty car" x ginned as a figure in naval uniform streaked down the steps of the huge building and darted to the kerb. "Go like mad, old fellow," cried Bulyon as he took a flying leap at the already moving automobile. "Rlght-oh, sir," was the cheerful response as the powerful car leaped ahead on its wild dash to the mouth of the Thames. Traffic regulations do not exist when the British Navy is in a hurry, yet that headlong race through the beautiful Kentish countryside to the famous Naval Arsenal seemed like an age to the frantically impatient young Australian. "Outer Gabbard—or Keep Out" were the words which chased each other through his whirling brain—"Outer Gabbard—or Keep Out" when for weeks he had slaved, fasted, and prated for just one opportunity to be 'in.' "C*o— go like blazes" was the burden ." of his excited entreaties. "Outer Gabbard—or Bust" was the agonising refrain which monotonously hammered through his entire being. In a little over the half-hour, however, they drove through the massive gates' of the naval dockyard and quickly ascertained where the S5O was berthed. The whole place was a maze of ships and ships' requirements. Great grey battleships and battle-cruisers lay at their moorings Uke grim monsters taking a breather before going back into the thick of war. Sleek, rakish destroyers glided about Uke venomous grey hornets as they poked their noses here, there, and everywhere in .an endeavour to find a small length of wharf along which to lie while a fresh supply of shells, torpedoes, or depthcharges was gathered. The twofunnelled sloops looked down disdainfully at these greyhounds of the seas
which performed feats of incredible daring and had become the biggest terror in the lives of enemy submarine commanders. Perhaps, however, it was only the appearance of their two vertical funnels which gave the sloops that air of primness, for they, too, did wonders seeing they had neither the speed nor the "teeth" of their more dangerous sisters. "\TOTOR patrol-boats—those amazing, • stumpy-tailed machinery-boxes which were built by the mile and chopped off by the yard—skimmed the water like a cloud of mangrove mosquitoes: while the assortment of odd submarines, ferry boats, pinnaces, ' Q" boats and fussy little tugs merely served to complete the atmosphere of inflexible, indefatigable and invincible power which is the unmistakable and unquestionable characteristic common to all British naval bases. The car presently glided alongside one of those dangerous-looking hornets, and jumping out of the car
before it came to a standstiU Bulyon reached the edge of the wharf in a bound, and then leaped down the gangway. Before he landed on the steel deck the engine-room telegraph rang out its imperious, high?toned summons, and the British superdestroyer 850 moved on her momentous voyage. From the bridge her commander—outwardly calm, yet inwardly tingling with eagernessgrinned as he surveyed the intelligence officer. "What's the hurry, Lance?" he queried jocularly as he rested his elbows on the bridge raU. Bulyon stared at Curtis in amazement:— "Hasn't the chief told you?" he gasped, "You've got to get me to Outer Gabbard in a couple of hours, old son: I hope this old tub of yours can reaUy do something Uke the speed you're always swanking about," was the fervent prayer. "Outer Gabbard in two hours," came the contemptuous reply. "If that's ?H you want I think well turn back and go ashore for morning tea." A scowl was his only reward for his flippancy, and he reached towards the speaking-tube communicating with the engine-room while Bulyon slowly climbed the ladder which led to the bridged (To be continued.)
CHAPTER V (Continued.)
A S Lance Bulyon drew near to Curtis, ■**■ the eager springiness and elasticity seemed to leave him, and he suddenly looked worn and dispirited.
"D'you really think we can do it, Jack?" was his pathetic inquiry. Curtis, in addition to being a clever naval officer, was a student of humanity, and he laid a comforting hand on the Australian's shoulder. "Look here, old man the chief gave me a tenminute* lecture before you arrived. You just go down and get your bag of tricks ready, and leave the rest to me. Provided we dont get torpedoed, or hit a mine, or run aground, or—or blow up—we'll get you at Outer Oabbard in time to play bowls 'a la Drake' before you even sight the Huns.". Relieved by the other's contagious smile and unbounded assurance, Lance Bulyon made his way aft to fix up his "box of tricks," while, slipping into the Medway, 8 50 jumped quickly into fier stride as the turbines droned their song in the higher and more insistent key. Dull, leaden skies and short, choppy seas are the usual wintry conditions around the coasts of Britain, yet, though the heavy-hanging sleet-filled clouds had descended even closer to the wind-whipped, tumbling water than usual—the quivering destroyer seemed to sing a saga of Viking adventure as she sped onwards, smothering her knife-like tows in spray, and leaving a spumescent wake far astern. Mile after mile of broken sea she flung astern, determinedly plunging her nose into each rising wave and then lifting herself clear with a mad whirring and throbbing of wild delight. Her Commander adored her and spoke of her as of a living creature, and every man aboard loved 850 with an almost equal affection. ' A FTER a while Bulyon emerged from ■"■ the wooden "shanty" which had been erected just behind the aft funnel, ran a practical eye over the curious, fan-shaped aerial which focussed in a huge, well-insulated, lead-in oh the cabin roof, and slithered, staggered, and stumbled his way for'ard to the bridge. "What's she doing, Jack?" he anxiously inquired. "Can't you get a bit more out of her?" "Well I go to Jericho!" fumed Curtis —"Of all the growlers I ever met. Look here, old son, she's doing thirty-seven —and punching into a head sea at that. What the blazes do you expect—portholes in your coffin?" Lance grinned feebly at the other's pretended annoyance. "D'you realise that in another twenty minutes we'll be abeam of the Oabbard ?" bellowed Curtis with sparkling eyes. It came with something of a shock to Lieutenant Bulyon to learn that he had almost reached the testing ground—and testing time—of his invention, and he suddenly became consumed with nervous anxiety. "1 say, old man,—suppose it isn't a raid after all?—suppose its just a washout," he ventured in a fearful, agonised tone, "{Suppose—?" "SUPPOSE nothing," barked Curtis 10 belligerently, "D'you think the Commodore doesn't know what he's up to? Now you just toddle along and get everything In readiness, and well show you the dear old Gothas in about an hour or so."
Lance grinned at the comical expression on his companion's face. "Silly fool," he muttered without resentment, "I Wish—l wish the chief would let me know their whereabouts." "The 'planes mightn't have given him a chance since this morning." Curtis reminded him. "That's so," conceded Bulyon, "I feel sure he'd let me know if he could." "True, O wise one—hi fact, he's just sent you a message—it's coming along deck to you now." The Australian swung round as though stung, and scrambled to the heaving and pitching deck and snatched the code message from the quartermaster. "ENACAT: GOYPIC: BOFINP: ZUXELD: 0006." was the information which had been flashed from the Admiralty. "Where the deuce is your code book, Jack?—the first group means 'enemy
aircraft,'" yelled the intelligence Officer with rising excitement, as he dashed towards the chart-room. A few seconds later he gave a short, laugh, and exultantly exclaimed:— "Enemy aircraft eighty miles east north-east Harwich at noon." "tTM—now let us see," declared the ■"irrepressible Curtis, striking an attitude of profundity. "Eighty miles at noon and the message is timed to leave the Admiralty at six minutes past noon—if each 'plane reported individually Harwich must have been pretty slick to log 'em all and get the positions through to AY in six minutes. However, it's now nearly quarter past twelve, and those blighters only travel about sixty or seventy miles an hour with their load of eggs. That's—say fifteen miles. Fifteen from eighty leaves sixty-five; and we've another quarter of an hour to go. which is another fifteen. That'll put the skyraiders about fifty miles from Hawicn. and about twenty miles east by. north from the Gabbard. Therefore, thou worker of Black Magic, we should meet them about five or six miles the other side of Outer Gaboard. That good enough?" Bulyon, who had listened in silence to this exaggerated display of calculation, smiled and nodded. "That'll do me," he said quietly, and turned towards his precious "box of tricks." (To be concluded).
CHAPTER VI. "THERE they are!—and a decent mob A of the blighters, too," ejaculated Curtis as he and Bulyon stood on the bridge of 850 anxiously searching the eastern horizon with powerful glasses. "Like to see a bit more speed, after all, boy?" laughed the young sea-dog. "She can touch forty, you know." Bulyon did not deign to reply, but scuttled aft as quickly as he. could, while Curtis spoke into the engineroom speaking-tube.The The smoothly spinning turbines immediately took another lift in their voices and 850 began to literally tear her way through the sea towards the oncoming aeroplanes at an astounding speed. In a few seconds she was actually bouncing from the tops of the foam-crested billows, smacking into each one with a ferocity that flung up mast-high showers of spray. From the recently-erected experimental wireless cabin, Just under the third squat funnel, came a series of weird, Whining moans, beneath which could be heard the sharp hiss of a powerful electric arc, while Bulyon kept hopping out of his little "rabbit-hutch"
guaging the ever 7 lessenlng distance between the antagonists and then dart-, ing back to his instruments—his entire hopes and confidence in conflict with the fear that, after all. he might fail, and the enemy machines pass safely overhead on their errand of destruction. (SUDDENLY the hissing of the arc de** veloped into a terrific roar, which completely drowned all other sounds from the little mystery cabin. Bulyon had "thrown on the load" and was radiating a peculiar form of continuous wave.Closing Closing the cabin door he ducked to the flying spume and bolted along the swaying dech to the bridge, where Curtis was gazing at the approaching aircraft with an excitement as intense as that which pulsed through the veins of the Queenslander, The German machines, heavily laden with their cargo of death and destruction, were flying exceptionally low—no fewer than twenty of them—all bound for the as yet unsuspecting city of London. "Hope it works." said Bulyon with fiercely straining eye*—but Curtis vouchsafed no answer. A 8 the distance between the com■•**■ batants lessened each heart aboard 850 commenced hammering and pounding—for even the crew had now guessed that their mission was to prevent the invaders from reaching their destination. Would the attempt end in dismal failure ? As the men on the destroyer stood motionless, their nerves in acu'e suspension, the leading enemy machines, as if scenting some intangible danger, altered their course to evaie the racing ship. v "Get bang into the centre of them," yelled Bulyon hoacsely in tone) of frenzied command mingled with helpless beseechingf—and the vibrating until veered from her course and leaded towards the aircraft with incredible fpeed.Breathless Breathless expectancy reigned in 850. Would they—? Coiud tbey—? Ye gods I What was that? rnHREE huge black objects suddenly x descended from the foremost raider and burst with deafening explosions upon touching the water—and before these violent detonations had subsided the whole of the enemy squadron began to lose flying speed and hastuy dropped trieTr -Ttodfte in ; a frantic attempt to keep in the air.
■ Fearful for the safety of his beloved ship, Curtis sent 850 round in a huge circle at a maddening pace, one after the other, as they each in their turn received the full force of the mysterious wave, the German raiders descended into the sea. "My godfathers," sighed Curtis heavily, as, having eased the madly-careering ' destroyer to a more normal speed, returned to Bulyon with unfeigned admiration shining in his eyes, "How on earth did you do it, boy?" "Simply put a continuous spark across the spark-plugs of their-engines," replied the happy Australian, "I think we've put a stop to all their air-raids now.'*
CHAPTER VII. JMOMMODORE WARRINOTON faced the Lords of the Armiralty, and continued his story in low clear-cut' tones. < "My Lords—Bso picked up the German aviators and then raced for home. But she was scarcely a couple of milea from the scene when she struck ? floating mine and sank almost immediately. Lieutenant Bulyon happened at that moment to be on deck. Just outside the cabin, looking up at the aerial—and the mine exploded directly underneath him. "It is damnable luck—first King-Commander Bulyon is lost to the Empire—together with the secret which he proved to be practical at the cost of his life. Then the younger Bulyon demonstrates another wonderful con-, trivance, and, in the moment of success, he is killed, too. Had either of them lived England would bave been free from this flying terror, and airraids over our trenches would have been a thing of the past." Slowly the Chief of the British Naval intelligence Service drew himself erect and saluted, adding: "As it is, gentlemen, we carry on." * ~ (The end.)
