Like a flash he threw his right arm over the girder. There he hung, dangling in mid-air, with the imminent prospect of dropping eight hundred feet or so, to be smashed to a pulp as his body struck with fearful velocity the surface of the North Sea.
Not for a moment did he lose his head when once he felt his hands gripping the T-shaped girder. He knew that it would only be a waste of energy to attempt to clamber back; his one and only chance was to make his way forward to a place where the bent and jagged aluminium sheathing would afford precarious foothold to enable him to gain the still-intact platform in the wake of the midship nacelle.
With a slight effort Hamerton raised his legs sufficiently to enable his heels to rest on the upper face of the girder. His weight was thus more evenly distributed, and his arms were no longer taxed to their fullest strength. He was now clinging with hands and feet to the under side of the aluminium beam, with his nose only a couple of inches from the lowermost flange of the T-section.
Slowly he edged towards the place whence he hoped to scramble into safety. Inch by inch, foot by foot—the distance seemed interminable. Not for an instant did he look down. He knew only too well the fatal consequences that that indiscretion would entail.
At length his feet touched the metal plate. It was still riveted by the upper edge of the girder, hanging downwards at an angle of about thirty degrees and curling to almost a complete circle near its lower edge.
"Hope to goodness it will hold," thought the Sub. "If it gives, I'm done."
Cautiously he swung his feet from off the beam. All his weight now fell upon his fingers. Then his shoe came in contact with the curved part of the plate. The aluminium sheet gave slightly, but Hamerton found, to his unbounded relief, that it offered sufficient resistance to the pressure to permit him to relax his grip with his right hand.
He lost no time, however, in shifting his grasp so that both hands were on the same side of the girder. Now he was able to half-turn, so that both feet rested on the curl of the plate.
Summoning his remaining energies, Hamerton sprang. His foothold was sufficiently good for the purpose, although the twisted plate gave slightly under the pressure. The next instant he was lying on the deck with his legs dangling over the edge.
Now that the immediate danger was over, he felt dizzy and sick. For a moment or so a white mist swam before his eyes. Had the airship lurched to port he might have fled into space without being conscious of making an effort to save himself.