So intent were the garrison of the Cavarale in watching this aerial steeplechase that it was not until a loud droning almost above their heads told them that other aircraft were approaching.
"Take cover as best you may!" ordered Gerald to the Valderian allies.
"Steady on, old man," suddenly exclaimed Dacres. "I think—yes, I am certain—they are British seaplanes."
"I suppose you know," admitted Whittinghame. "But how will they know we are not the enemy? Personally, I've a strong objection to being blown sky-high by a British seaplane."
"We must risk it. I'll hail. Perhaps they might hear, although the noise of the propeller—Hulloa! They're swerving."
Paying no attention to the remains of the Cavarale with its occupants who wore the Valderian uniform, the air-squadron tore to the rescue of their Admiral.
The Captain of the "Meteor" had informed the flagship of the situation by wireless, and Captain Staggers, who, by virtue of his seniority, had hoisted the Commodore's Broad Pennant on board the "Royal Oak" during Rear-Admiral Maynebrace's enforced absence, had dispatched six of the seaplanes attached to the fleet to tackle the enemy's air-fleet.
Giving the high-angle firing-guns of the defences of Naocuanha a wide berth, the seaplanes made short work of the distance between Zandovar and the scene of the manoeuvres of the "Meteor" and her attackers.
Now, for the first time in the history of the world, was to be a pitched battle between aircraft heavier than the medium in which they soared. It was to be a fight to the finish: there could be no question of surrendering or of giving quarter.
Yet the British Flying Squadron was not one to take an undue advantage. The aeroplanes, intent upon the "Meteor," were unaware of the approach of their new foes; but the officers in command of the seaplanes waited till they were certain that their presence was observed by the Valderian airmen.