“I hate to think of it too, but they themselves have made it our lives or theirs!” yelled Alan. “So go to it, Ned.”
The Ocean Flyer had now attained an incredible velocity. It was only a matter of minutes, of seconds, or instants, before it would crash straight into the huge but clumsier enemy advancing to meet it. There was a bare glimpse of drawn, panic-stricken faces crowding the hanging compartment. The pointed snout of the Flyer tilted suddenly at an eighty-degree angle and—
B o o m—m—m—psthsh—sh—sh—ss!
She had struck and pierced the huge gas bag of the Zeppelin, leaving a huge, gaping rent from which the gas rushed as the craft sagged sidewise more and more. Several of the heavy cables supporting the car from the bag parted with reports like shell explosions. The Zeppelin began slowly to sink, while her sister craft sheered off from the rushing destroyer.
Wild-eyed and remorseful for the awful necessity of their deed, the boys now saw the light aeroplanes darting up to block their path. The futility of their trying to stop an airship when a Zeppelin twenty times their size had failed, did not seem to occur to those daring German aviators.
They sat braced there in their narrow seats among the intricacy of wire rigging, guiding their frail craft with one hand and shooting rapidly with the other. Rifle and revolver bullets rattled against the Flyer’s magnalium sides like hailstones.
The rush of wind set in lateral motion by the velocity of the huge airship nearly capsized two of the little craft. The planes of a third one were brushed roughly by the Flyer as it rushed past.
The sun had now dissipated the last of the mist and the shapes of the other Zeppelins could plainly be seen sailing down upon their prey. The whole sky seemed to be full of them. No wonder England was terrified by such a menace as this!
The Ocean Flyer now had, however, a clear field in front of her and the situation resolved itself into a race to get out of range. Here was where the tremendous motive power of the airship stood her in good stead. No Zeppelin could maintain such a terrific speed as Ned set.
The guns of the Zeppelins roared almost continuously, but a moving target is hard to hit. Most of the deadly shells either fell short or went wide of their mark. One by one the huge “bologna sausages” began to drop behind and abandon the pursuit. Finally there were only two left—one a quarter of a mile in the rear and the other hanging almost stationary to the left of the Flyer’s course. The last Zeppelin had evidently been foremost of the raiding squadron.