‘Warning gun. Hands to funk-holes,’ said the First Lieutenant.
Again the bugle and the roaring of the boatswains’ mates. ‘’Aaaands to—funk—’oles.’
Down below the men who had no particular duty at aircraft stations, which is very different to general quarters, dived down into their various burrows, albeit much against their will.
A burly figure loomed out of the darkness.
‘Mess-decks cleared, sir. Hands in their funk-holes.’
‘All right,’ said the First Lieutenant. ‘Thank you.’
The searchlights swept overhead, wavered a little, and steadied over the land.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat. Boom! Bang! Phit from the land batteries down the coast. Still no sign of the intruder to be seen from the Fleet. A whirr and a rush of motors and a seaplane whizzed past, soaring up and over on the look-out for the enemy. Away to the south’ard others could be seen wheeling and crossing high up in the glare of the searchlights. Suddenly the roar of the shore batteries ceased. Phit-phit-phit-phit came faintly in the distance from the sea-planes, as the mitrailleuses were discharged at the invisible foe.
Then, through a break in the clouds, into the full glare of the searchlights, swung the majestic Zeppelin. Calmly and sedately she floated, apparently unmindful of the danger, though her crew were working like madmen to get her out of the perilous area. Away above her a tiny speck was visible, wheeling and circling like a gull in a gale of wind. A mighty flash and a roar showed where the German had dropped a bomb over the batteries, but still there was no order from the Flagship, and the Fleet watched and waited in silence. The shore guns had ceased firing now, and up above rode that great airship as if despising the puny craft who pitted themselves against her.
Then ... a tiny flicker of flame was seen at one end of the Zeppelin, licking and hissing round the gas-bag as it spread from end to end.