"Thank heavens," ejaculated the captain fervently, as the sweeping rays swung round, "they haven't spotted us!"
"Eight hundred feet—twelve hundred yards," reported Warborough.
The Zeppelin was still descending; more, she had slowed down considerably, since during the last four minutes she had travelled three hundred yards. Heading dead into the eye of the wind her rate over the sea was now roughly two and a half miles an hour.
The Zeppelin now presented an easy target, as, moving slowly, she stood out clearly against the starry sky.
The lieutenant-commander raised his hand, the gun-layer of the for'ard weapon sprang to the night-sights; in another second the missile would have been hurtling on its way towards the bulky target, when round swept the blinding searchlight, full on the submarine.
This time there was no swaying round the rays were kept focussed on the "E Something." The Zeppelin had spotted her foe.
"Confound that light!" muttered the skipper, as he telegraphed for full speed ahead.
Quickly the vessel gained steerage way, the helmsman thrusting his helm hard over, alternately to port and starboard at frequent intervals in order to pursue a zig-zag course and thus baffle the aim of the bomb-trainers.
The first bomb was not long in making its presence known. From the invisible and now noisy airship, for her engines were making a terrific din, a powerful missile dropped fifty yards abeam of the submarine, and burst with a loud report.
Fragments of the shell flew in all directions, some glancing harmless from the rounded side of the submarine, and others flying overhead. Not a man was touched.