Through an atmosphere dense with powder smoke, the seaplanes sped like bolts, and then striking the water with a force that tossed spray in every direction.
The submarine captain and three of the crew had been killed, and of those still alive seven were wounded. To cover the movement of the seaplanes, the “Warspite” and other British warships kept a rain of shells falling in the vicinity of the Turkish battery.
When the seaplanes lifted from the water, the wounded members of the submarine crew were crowded inside, and others clung to the rigging. The powerful motors responded wonderfully to the test.
Reaching the turn of the point without being brought down by the parting shots from the Turkish battery, the overloaded aircraft soon settled in the shelter of the warships outside the entrance of the straits.
“Glory be!”
Billy’s high note of rejoicing had been sounded.
And there was Jimmy Stetson, without a mark, astride the bow of the seaplane!
Other aviators in lighter machines now hovered over the submarine, dropping bombs on the works above water, with the purpose of rendering the lost vessel absolutely useless to the Turks.
“That was a scary come-through, all right,” said Jimmy to Billy, when once within the safety line. “I saw my finish out on that mud pile, and I guess I didn’t care much after Captain Gardiner fell dead on the bridge. But somehow, when I saw those seaplanes swooping down, and glimpsed Captain Johnson, I took a fresh hold on hope. And, lo and behold, when I splashed out to the planes who should be sitting in there as large as life but you and Henri. It was the spirit again of the brave old days.”
“We surely have had some close calls together, come to think of it,” recalled Billy.