As a precautionary measure, the crews of the quick-firers were called to action stations, but already there was sufficient confidence in the rays to warrant the assumption that the forthcoming task would not require the aid of gunnery.
Throughout the darkened fleet an uncanny silence prevailed. The night was starless. There was a flat calm. The conditions for microphone detector work were excellent.
Nearer and nearer came the hostile flying-boats, their direction and distance being so accurately recorded that they derived no advantage by delivering a night attack.
At length the dull rumble of their propellers became faintly audible. In spite of devices calculated to muffle the noise, it was impossible to smother the beats of fifty or sixty aerial propellers working in unison.
"Bearing 55 degrees; elevation 22 degrees," announced the range-finding, officer at the searchlight director station.
Then, fifteen seconds later: "bearing 60 degrees; elevation 25 degrees."
[Illustration: A BLAZE OF DAZZLING BEAMS Page 297]
Not until the elevation increased to 30 degrees were the searchlights to unmask. The period of suspense seemed interminable, although the flying-boats were known to be approaching at well over a hundred miles an hour.