The second bomb fell much further off and dead ahead. The Zeppelin had overrun her quarry.
With a sharp turn of the steering gear the helmsman brought "E Something" smartly round in a semicircle till her bows pointed in the opposite direction to which they had been heading a few seconds before. So quickly was the manoeuvre executed that the submarine swept out of the irritating rays of the searchlight.
Both quick-firers barked simultaneously. One shell burst well beyond the frail gas-bag; the other appeared to explode almost under the foremost suspended car. Whether by accident or design the searchlight was immediately switched off, while the Zeppelin, elevating her horizontal rudders and frantically throwing out ballast, began to rise in order to be out of range of the British shells.
"Crash!" went the after anti-aircraft gun. This time the range was obtained to a nicety, and the projectile, bursting almost in front of the bows of the Zeppelin, gave her a mortal blow.
To the watchers on the submarine the whole fabric of the airship appeared to jump, then, with the slightest perceptible interval following the explosion of the missile, a second detonation occurred in the fore-part of the Zeppelin. There was a blinding triple flash, followed by a deafening report. The aluminium envelope seemed to disperse amidst a cloud of fire-tinged smoke, while the heavier portions of the airship fell with ever-increasing rapidity.
Amidst a series of heavy splashes, the wreckage plunged into the sea at less than half a mile from the submarine. A quantity of heavy oil, taking fire as it streamed downwards, remained burning upon the surface of the water for quite a considerable time, then with a number of spasmodic flashes the flames died out, leaving only a slowly drifting cloud of smoke to mark the spot where the wreckage fell.
During the final catastrophe the men of the British submarine remained almost spellbound. They had gained the victory, but all thoughts of elation were subdued by the awfulness of the fate of the vaunted terror of the air.
The "E Something" was then run to the spot where the ill-starred Zeppelin had disappeared, in the vain hope of rescuing any survivors. For a radius of several hundred yards the sea was covered with oil which had escaped combustion, but of actual relics of the airship nothing was visible. Her twisted and bent aluminium framework lay a hundred and twenty feet down at the bottom of the North Sea.
Just before dawn the submarine descended and lay hidden, save for a brief interval of reconnaissance, during the whole of the day. At night she came up in order to give the crew a "breather." Nothing of incident occurred, neither on the two following days, so Terence had a good idea of the monotony of life in a British submarine on observation duty.
At daybreak on the following Thursday the "E Something" prepared for her homeward run. She travelled awash, without sighting any enemy cruiser or destroyer. At a rendezvous she fell in with her relief, and having exchanged greetings the two submarines parted, one to enjoy a welcome rest in Harwich harbour, the other to play her part in sweeping the North Sea of the enemy's flag.