Still zigzagging and consequently throwing a heavy strain upon the towing hawsers, the Messines carried on. There were limits to the duration of the action of the smoke apparatus. Sooner or later the two destroyers would have to emerge, but it remained to be seen whether they had eluded the five flying-boats. Perhaps the hostile aircraft were hovering, three thousand feet up and out of sight and hearing, waiting for their prey to disclose their presence. A period of suspense followed, but still the waiting planes—if they were indeed waiting—gave no indication of their presence.
Presently Cavendish touched his companion on the shoulder.
"Listen!" he exclaimed. "Machine-gun fire!"
"Not the faintest doubt about it, Weeds," rejoined Carfax, as the staccato reports were borne to their ears. "What's the move?"
At length the destroyers crawled slowly from the fringes of the smoke-cloud. The moon had risen and the sky and sea were bathed in brilliant yellow light. Not a sign of the hostile aircraft was to be seen. Twenty minutes later came the solution of the affair in the form of a wireless from one of the Basilikon's seaplanes.
"Report engaged unknown hostile aircraft. Two shot down. Rest in flight. Pursued, but unable to overhaul."
CHAPTER XXIII
At the Admiralty
The news came as a mild surprise to the average British citizen when, on opening his morning paper, he found that there was actually another war on—no rumour of impending hostilities, no preliminary exchange of "Notes", nor even a declaration of war. Hostilities had taken place between Great Britain and the Republic of Rioguay.