The shell has fallen five hundred yards over its target, and two hundred feet to the right.
"9.15. Q.E. fired ..." writes the pencil.
Again the tumult breaks out, again the shell roars, and changes its note, and dies away in a little remote explosion.
"9.16. Balloon to Q.E. O 200 ..." writes the pencil.
The watchers in the balloon have seen a white column of water leap up just beyond the little black shape in the ribbon of the narrows twelve miles on the other side of the hills.
"9.18. Q.E. fired ..." continues the record.
This time the slow dying wail of the shell ends in a long tremulous explosion.
"9.19. O.K...." writes the pencil.
The vessel has been struck. Then with an uncanny precision the writing continues:—