This an aside from Billy to Henri.
While the boys were having a quiet chuckle to themselves, the flagship of the fleet showed signal to forge ahead, and the pilots of the seaplanes went to work again.
There was a night journey ahead, but with many searchlights sweeping both sea and sky, it was not a blind-going proposition.
The naval program included an issue with Fort Killis, about six miles from the entrance of the Bosphorus, where the Turks had a battery of 6-inch Krupp guns.
It was up to the aeroplanists to look over the situation in advance, with additional responsibility of keeping themselves well out of the range of the big shooting irons, one straight aim of which would bring the lofty sailing party a very chilly trip clear to the bottom of the sea.
In the early morning the seaplanes quit the company of the warships to essay the exceedingly perilous reconnoiter.
The battery which the air scouts sought to accurately locate was constructed in, or, rather, under a cliff, and flying high and immediately overhead the observer had scant opportunity to size up the real strength and range of the masked position. To win a look worthy of record it was decided to chance an 80-mile-an-hour spurt across the sea front.
If the gunners were a little slower than the aviators, it was all to the good for the latter—if the reverse, the Black Sea air fleet would be reduced just so many.
With all the power in the motors applied, the seaplanes swept by the face of the cliff, the observers mentally gathering every detail through straining eyes, and the pilots equally intent in planning the lightning swerve that would baffle the men from behind the Krupps.
Out and away! One gun belched fire—then another—now the whole half dozen or more—with the crack of rifles in between the heavier detonations.