Here he sat in comparative safety. He could rest until he regained his breath ere he made another bid for greater safety.
The wind no longer howled through the chaos of broken and twisted rods. Borne along at almost the same velocity as that of the gale, the Zeppelin was apparently floating in the still air, although in reality her speed over the ground was now not much less than sixty miles an hour. Assailed on all sides by the brilliant searchlights, the derelict aircraft was heading straight for the cliffs at Bucket Horn. Unless she lifted herself sufficiently to clear the one hundred and twenty-eight feet of cliff she would inevitably be dashed to pieces against the sandstone bluff.
Shading his eyes from the blinding glare, Hamerton could see the precipitous wall of rock momentarily growing larger and larger. Thirty feet were wanting to clear the edge of the cliff. It seemed as if nothing could save the uncontrollable Zeppelin.
Hamerton set his jaw tightly. He fully realized the danger. He was mentally picturing the impending disaster, the bulging sides of the envelope charging the cliff and being crushed like an empty eggshell against the inflexible wall of sandstone. The remains of the nacelles would be swung violently inwards, the concussion would result in his being dislodged from his position and being flung heavily upon the rocky, breaker-swept ledges at the base of the island.
Yet the expected did not happen. An upward eddy, caused by the wind being deflected by the perpendicular cliff, tossed the Zeppelin in its boisterous grip.
Her stern portion, being lighter than the bows, since most of her weight had already been torn away from that end, swung clear of the cliff. Hamerton could see the roof of a searchlight shed slip past barely twenty feet beneath him. Then came a sudden jerk that wellnigh dislodged the Sub from his precarious position. Only his tenacious grip saved him.
The whole of the enormous bulk of the Zeppelin seemed to pause momentarily, then with a sickening, heaving motion the aircraft shot upwards to an additional height of five hundred feet. In swinging past the brink of the chasm the destruction of the machinery compartment of the midship nacelle was completed, and her motors, weighing little short of a ton and a half, were precipitated to the ground, rolling into a concealed gunpit and greatly damaging the breech mechanism of the weapon.
Just then a loud roar came from one of the forts, the powerful Spitz Horn Battery. The Germans, despairing at the loss of the pride of their aerial fleet, and fearful lest she should be borne by the gale to the shores of the hated England, had decided upon the expedient of riddling her with heavy shells. In the hope that their vaunted hole-closing fabric would in this instance prove unequal to the conditions laid upon it, the gunners used the secondary armament of twenty-six-centimetres weapons.
With an unearthly shriek the first projectile, weighing nearly three hundred pounds, passed harmlessly above the envelope of the errant Zeppelin, bursting with a lurid red flash at a distance of five hundred yards behind her. Two more shells followed, almost simultaneously. These fell far beneath the rapidly-moving target. Although the aim in a vertical plane was good, the artillery-men were hopelessly at a loss as regards elevation. The Zeppelin, now only faintly visible in the rays of the distant searchlights, was out of range and well on her way across the stormy North Sea.