“They’re up to something, that’s sure,” whispered Henri to Billy; “but what it is I haven’t the least idea.”
“I don’t see any bombs in this craft, so it can’t be anything like a blow-up from above,” was Billy’s whispered reply.
“Hold your mouths,” growled the giant pilot.
Henri put a warning finger on his lips, glancing at Billy.
Gunner Joseph had evidently sighted the something for which he had been looking, for he made a rapid motion with a hand behind him, which the pilot evidently understood, for he immediately changed the direct northerly course of the seaplane sharply to the northeast.
Now visible to the naked eye was a fleet of cruisers, under full head of steam, and as they swiftly approached, the black cross in the flapping colors proclaimed the Kaiser’s warships.
Billy and Henri were astounded at the sight. A German fleet within easy shelling distance of the Yorkshire coast!
One of the cruisers turned broadside, and from the armored hull belched smoke and flame. Looking down upon the town of Hartlepool, the boys saw buildings crumple like houses of cards before a gale. Other vessels of the war fleet followed the leader in broadsides, and every iron cast seemed to find a mark and exacted toll of death and destruction. The Hartlepools, Whitby, and Scarborough, places well known to the captive aviators, were under galling fire for an hour.
“They’re shooting a mile, but look how true they get the range,” remarked Billy in Henri’s nearest ear.
“Look!” Henri pointed to the land batteries, now spouting fiery responses.