Ordering both searchlights to be unscreened and played upon the airship, Tressidar had the torpedo-boat manoeuvred so that the trawler,—for such she proved to be—bore slightly on the starboard quarter. At the same time the three 3-pounders were trained upon the Zeppelin.
"I wonder if the Huns have collared that craft," thought Tressidar. "It looks jolly fishy."
"Ahoy!" hailed one of the torpedo-boat's men. "What craft is that?"
"Drifter 'Laughing Lassie' of Peterhead," was the reply with an unmistakable Scottish accent.
"Then what are you doing here?" shouted the sub.
"The Zepp.'s right across our nets," announced the master of the drifter. "We aren't going to cut them adrift for a dozen strafed Zepps. They want us to take them aboard, but we just won't."
The fishing-craft was steaming slowly ahead, just sufficient to keep a slight strain upon her nets. The rear gondola of the Zeppelin, dipping beneath the surface, had fouled them, and at the same time the airship was prevented from drifting further to leeward.
Taking care to avoid the nets, for there was a danger of the torpedo-boat's propeller becoming entangled in the meshes of tarred line, Tressidar brought his command slightly to windward of the crippled German airship.
With the exception of the after part she was floating buoyantly, stern to wind. On the platform on the upper side of the envelope were about a dozen of her officers and crew. Others were standing on the light, railed-in gangway connecting the foremost cabin with the midship gondola. Shown up by the glare of the searchlights were several jagged holes in the envelope, caused by fragments of shells from the guns of the anti-aircraft service cars.