With the older type of anti-aircraft gun, shooting at an aeroplane reminded one of trying to bring down a snipe with a Webley revolver. But now that we are provided with the best sort of weapon which brains and money can produce, the process of strafing the aerial Hun may be likened to dealing with the aforesaid bird with a 12-bore hammerless ejector loaded with No. 8 shot. The odds, of course, are usually on the snipe or the Hun, as the case may be, but more often than not we succeed in being accurate enough to make him supremely uncomfortable.
So the shooting with the A.A. guns was generally good. Puffs of smoke from the exploding shell darted out into space all round their target. The blue sky speedily became pock-marked with the white, bulbous, cotton-wool-like clusters, each one contributing its share of splinters to the unpleasantness of the upper atmosphere. The Hun as speedily retired. But not always. Sometimes he climbed high to get out of range, and then, at a height of twelve thousand to fourteen thousand feet, when scarcely visible, dropped his bombs. But the higher he went the more erratic became his practice, so really it did not matter much.
Occasionally, in the vicinity of their own coast, he and his friends attacked in coveys of six, seven, or a dozen at a time, and then things became very lively, and the A.A. guns had the time of their lives. Once the Huns attacked continuously from eight A.M. until noon. There were never less than three of them in range at any one time, and each one, after dropping his noisome cargo, hurried back to his base for a fresh consignment, and then returned for another strafe. But the bombs always fell wide, and in course of time people came to treat seaplane attacks with positive indifference. In early days all in the ship who could get away came on deck to watch the fun. They indulged in loud and ribald remarks, and gave the benefit of their advice to the men at the guns, to the Hun or Huns, and to anybody else who cared to listen. They also jeered uproariously when bombs fell a few yards wide and deluged them with water, and fought madly for any splinters which might fall on board. But later on, when they got used to the feeling, the advent of a seaplane or two did not disturb them very much, particularly if it was soon after the midday meal, and they had composed themselves for short naps on the sunny deck before recommencing their labours in the afternoon.
It seems that the British sailor, like his comrade in the trenches, can get used to anything. Moreover, the war seems to have set a new standard of excitement, and what will happen when hostilities cease and the men have to go back to the humdrum life of peace I really do not know. It would seem impossible to raise much real enthusiasm over regattas, boxing competitions, picture-palaces, or football matches after playing the far more thrilling game with men's lives and ships for the stakes.
But bluejackets are always peculiar people, and the most trivial happenings in the midst of the most appalling danger cause them the greatest amusement. In one merry little destroyer action in the North Sea one of the British vessels was having a very hot time, and a bursting shell caused a small fire in the engine-room. It was promptly extinguished by the fire-party under the charge of the chief stoker, and shortly afterwards an officer noticed this worthy coming aft with broad grins all over his face.
'What's the joke?' he wanted to know, for it struck him as rather peculiar that a man should be so much amused at such a time.
'I carn't 'elp larfin', sir!' said the man, bubbling over with glee. 'We 'ad a bit of a bonfire in the hengine-room jest now, sir, an' w'en I 'ears 'em 'ollerin' I runs along with the 'ose-pipe, shoves the end of 'im down the hengine-room 'atch, an' switches the water on.'
'What is there funny about that?' queried the officer.
'Only that we 'arf-drownded the Chief E.R.A., 'oo was standin' at the foot o' the ladder, sir,' gurgled the man. 'Funniest thing I've see'd fur a long time. 'E ain't got a dry stitch on 'im, and 'is langwidge was somethink 'orrid.' He finished with another cackle of amusement, and went off to spin the yarn to some one else.
At the time of the incident, which has the merit of being quite true, the ship was undergoing a very hot fire. Shell were falling all round her, and splinters were whistling through the air in all directions, and for the man to be convulsed with genuine merriment at the wetting of the chief engine-room artificer, at a moment when he himself was in imminent peril of his life, speaks well for his nerve. It rather reminds one of the true story of two marines, the loading numbers at the after-gun of a light cruiser which shall be nameless. She too was in the middle of a strenuous little action when a shell burst on board, and shortly afterwards both men saw a most desirable memento in the shape of a splinter lying on the deck. They made a simultaneous dart to secure the trophy, but Jones got there first.