‘’It, by God!’ yelled a Petty Officer in a strident voice.
A sound of hoarse cheering broke from a ship at the end of the line, was caught up and carried down the harbour as ship after ship broke into one wild roar of jubilation. The airship was crashing down nose first, aflame from end to end. Like a streak of blinding light she lit up the harbour, the ships, and the upturned faces as she rushed to her destruction. Down over the land she fell, and the cheering swelled into a mighty roar as she disappeared over the shoulder of a hill. Only the sickly glare in the sky told where she was burning to death, she ... and all she had contained.
As the yells of applause subsided, an answering cheer was wafted from the batteries ashore, and once more the Fleet burst into a thunder of appreciation. Then from the Flagship high up a red light, slowly winking and blinking in an urgent order, and the sound wavered, died away, and finally ceased altogether.
‘Flag-General, return stores, sir,’ said the First Lieutenant to Captain Charteris.
The Captain nodded. ‘All right. Carry on,’ he said, and went back to his cabin as the vocalists broke out into a long-drawn chant of: ‘Retur-ur-ur-n Stor-or-or-es.’
Another rush of feet as boxes and branch-pipes were replaced, buckets stowed away, and sandboxes covered. The guns were secured and the crews fell out, while the ammunition parties returned the shell and cartridges and closed the magazines.
The submarines had picked up the signal, too, and hove in their cables with prayers of gratitude that they might now continue their broken night’s rest. One by one they came back out of the darkness and dropped alongside the Parentis. A shape would appear, dimly seen in the waning moonlight. Somewhere a raucous voice would hail, and back would come the answer, ‘123’ or ‘146,’ as the case might be.
‘Answer’s “146,” sir,’ a voice would say, and the hailing would continue until finally all boats had returned and made fast in their accustomed berths.
Overhead the purr of a high-power motor, followed by another and another, told that the seaplanes, their work completed, were returning to their distant aerodrome, and another burst of cheering greeted their appearance.
‘By God,’ said a bearded gun-layer, gazing after them wistfully. ‘Lucky dogs, them blokes. See all the scrappin’ like. And we didn’t ’ave a ruddy shot. Not one, we didn’t.’