The latter, without exception, missed their objective, but the hail of bullets ripped the sea-plane through and through and dangerously wounded her observer. In spite of the riddled state of the planes the pilot kept his craft well under control, but was forced to descend, not before the Zeppelin was showing signs of having been much damaged by the sea-plane's automatic gun. The last the airmen saw of her was that she was making off at full speed in an easterly direction, her stern portion dipping ominously in spite of the quantity of ballast hurled overboard by her crew.
The British air-craft's long volplane terminated on the surface of the sea miles from the place where she had "spotted" the hostile ships. Before long the pilot made the disconcerting discovery that one of the floats was leaking. Having bandaged his unfortunate comrade's wound, he slipped over the side of the fuselage on to the damaged float. Failing to locate and stop the leak, he took up his position on the sound float, in the hope that his weight would preserve the sea-plane's stability. In this position he remained for two hours, until, numbed by the cold, he was on the point of abandoning hope when the Calder hove in sight.
The sun had set when the Calder rejoined the flotilla. The enemy was entirely out of sight, but there was every possibility of the German torpedo-boats making a night attack upon the long line of battleships.
Every precaution was taken against such a step. The battleships and battle-cruisers were encircled by a line of light cruisers, while beyond them, and mostly between the British fleet and the reported position of the German ships, was a numerous gathering of destroyers for the dual part of protecting the larger ships and also, when opportunity occurred, of making a dash against the Huns.
"Mark my words, Sefton," said Lieutenant-Commander Crosthwaite when the Calder, having transferred the two airmen, had taken up her allotted station, "to-night's the night. We'll have the time of our lives."
[CHAPTER XII--The Night Attack]
Just before midnight two columns of destroyers in line ahead slipped away in the darkness, the course being N. 42° E. Without showing so much as a glimmer of light, with their funnels screened with "spark arresters" to prevent the exit of glowing embers from the furnaces, the long, lean craft headed in the supposed direction of the enemy fleet.
From the elevated fore-bridge Sefton could scarce distinguish betwixt the Calder's bows and the dark, heavy waves. The only guide to enable the destroyer to keep station was the phosphorescent swirl at the stern of the vessel next ahead, as her triple propellers churned the water.
On deck the men were at the battle-stations, standing motionless and silent. Their faces had been blackened with burnt cork to render them as inconspicuous as possible should the beam of a hostile search-light swing itself athwart their vessel.
Although the high-raised fo'c'sle of the Calder was comparatively dry, showers of spray cast aside by the flaring bows were caught by the strong wind and dashed over the bridge until it was impossible to make use of night-glasses owing to the beads of moisture on the lenses.