Hans Leutter saluted and went for'ard. He was not at all keen on being told off for observation work, but his innate sense of discipline made him accept the duty without outward signs of resentment. Somehow he didn't relish the idea of being lowered from the Zeppelin and allowed to dangle at the end of two or three thousand feet of fine wire.
Shortly before midnight the look-out on Z64 picked up the harbour and town lights of Fremantle. It was now a fairly calm night. At five thousand feet was a stratum of light clouds, sufficient to obscure the starlight. The climatic conditions for von Sinzig's plans were exactly what he wanted.
When the German airship was dead to windward of the town her motors were switched off and she was allowed to drift in and out of the lower edge of the bank of clouds.
From her foremost nacelle a circular basket, fitted with a vertical vane to prevent it from turning round and round like a gigantic meat-jack, was hanging. In the basket, with a couple of small incendiary bombs for company, was Hans Leutter. In order to keep in touch with the captain of Z64 Hans was provided with a wireless telephone.
"All ready," announced the observer. "Lower away."
The well-oiled mechanism ran smoothly and noiselessly until a sudden check in the downward journey told Hans that the observation basket had reached the limit of its cable. From where he dangled--nearly two-thirds of a mile below the airship--Z64 was quite invisible. It was therefore safe to assume that the good people of Fremantle were likewise not in a position to see the huge gas-bag five thousand feet overhead, while the insignificant observation basket, although only a thousand feet or so up, was too minute to be spotted against the blurred starlight.
On the other hand, Hans Leutter could command a fairly comprehensive view of the town beneath him. The tranquil waters of the Swan River enabled him to fix his position, for even on the darkest night a river can readily be seen by an aerial observer. The navigation lamps of the aerodrome almost misled him. At first he mistook them for the railway station; but when he discovered his mistake he asked himself why the aerial signalling lamps were still being exhibited. According to the latest wireless messages picked up by Z64, the "Golden Hind" ought by this time to be berthed in the hangar. But, perhaps, he argued, the officials in their demonstrations of welcome had forgotten to switch the lights off.
"This reminds me of London in 1916," thought Hans. "London in those good old days when our Zeppelins came and went almost without let or hindrance. Now, my beauty, you and I must part."
He raised the bomb and poised it on the edge of the basket. In his excitement he had completely forgotten his fears at being suspended by a steel rope almost the same gauge as a piano-wire.
The incendiary bomb was quite a small affair, but none the less efficacious. In order to guard against identification should any of the metal parts be found, the vanes were stamped with the British Government marks, which showed that von Sinzig, with characteristic Teutonic thoroughness, had taken the precaution of covering his tracks. The British Air Ministry and the Australian Commonwealth Government could appraise responsibility later--by that time Z64 would be thousands of miles away.