'There, sir!' exclaimed the yeoman, triumphantly waving an arm. 'See 'im now, sir? 'E seems to 'ave altered course to port a bit since I see'd 'im first; but 'e's there all right. See 'is lights, sir!'
The man was quite right; for, looking in the direction indicated, the lieutenant distinctly saw in the sky a bright white light, with, just below and to the left of it, a green light They both seemed to be moving rapidly in a north-easterly direction, and looked for all the world like the steaming and starboard bow lights of a ship suspended in mid-air. He snatched the glasses from the yeoman's hand and looked intently through them. Yes, the white and green lights were quite distinct. They seemed to twinkle as he watched them, and behind them there appeared to be a dark phantom shape rushing through the sky. A Zeppelin, without a shadow of doubt.
Dashing down the glasses with an exclamation, he fled from the bridge as if Satan himself was after him, and running aft, hastily told the marine corporal of the watch to turn out twenty marines with their rifles and ball ammunition, and then to inform Captain Hannibal Chance, R.M.L.I., that a Zeppelin was in sight.
Aubrey P. FitzJohnson was no fool. Not he. He knew that hostilities had not started, but he had read enough history to be aware that hostile acts had frequently been committed before actual declaration of war. Moreover, he was officer of the watch, and as such was responsible for the safety of the ship, and it would never do if he were to be caught napping by a bomb-dropping dirigible. Therefore he must take precautions. There were no anti-aircraft guns mounted in the Belligerent, so the next best thing which occurred to him was twenty marines with their rifles. He might just as well have paraded five thousand schoolboys armed with catapults or pea-shooters, for all the good they could do.
A few seconds later he was knocking frantically on the door of the commander's upper-deck sleeping-cabin.
'Who's making that infernal din?' growled the sleepy occupant, waking up with a start. 'What the devil d'you want?' The commander, poor man, had had a long and busy day, and was inclined to be irritable.
'It's me, sir—FitzJohnson,' the lieutenant exclaimed, putting his head inside the curtain. 'There's a Zeppelin in sight!'
'A what!' ejaculated Commander Travers, sitting up in his bunk and switching on the electric light.
'A Zeppelin, sir. I saw her quite distinctly. She's on our port bow, steering to the north-east'ard, and travelling pretty fast. You can see her from the fore-bridge. I've turned out twenty marines with their rifles!'
The commander glared at him for an instant, and seeing he was in earnest, hopped out of his bunk, crammed his feet into a pair of rubber sea-boots, flung on a purple dressing-gown, and dashed out of his cabin. 'You'd better go and call the captain,' he cried back over his shoulder.