Although the rate of propulsion was not by any means so rapid as that of a boat the progress of the rescuers was far from slow. More than once they were splashed by the spray thrown up by a ricochetting projectile, as the German gunlayers were gradually correcting their aim, yet unscathed the rescue party came alongside the gradually sinking seaplane.
"Hullo, Aubyn!" shouted a well-known voice.
The airman was Waynsford. In his pneumatic helmet and huge goggles he was unrecognizable, but his voice proclaimed his identity.
"Hurt, old man?" asked Terence.
"Not a bit," replied Waynsford coolly. "They clipped a couple of stays just as I was getting out of range. But we did the trick, by Jove! Blew the railway station to Jericho."
"Hurry up," interposed Terence. "She's going."
The young airman methodically gathered together several important instruments, and giving a final look round at the aircraft that had served him so faithfully, stepped into the waiting "Carley."
Before the men had pulled five yards the wrecked machine gave a lurch and capsized completely. Supported by trapped air in the partially intact float the seaplane sank slowly, and with hardly a ripple disappeared from view.
With the least possible delay rescuers and rescued were taken on board the cruiser. Gathering way the "Sunderland" steamed in a westerly direction in order to baffle the range of the shore batteries, using her after guns with terrific speed.
Somewhat unceremoniously leaving his friend Terence hastened towards the bridge. Just as he was abreast of the wreckage of the shattered funnel a deafening detonation, that completely surpassed the roar of the cruiser's guns, seemed to burst over his head. Staggering under the blast of the explosion and temporarily blinded by the pungent smoke, the lieutenant groped his way until his progress was checked by a jagged mass of plating rendered almost red-hot by the impact of a huge shell.