Bending low behind the wind-screen, the plate-glass of which was already "starred" in several places by the impact of the bullets, the general urged the car straight in the direction of the men on his left. Even as he did so, the admiral, who had discovered the loaded revolver, blazed away on his left, with the result that Otto lost all present and future interest in the welfare of the Fatherland.
"Lucky shot," exclaimed Admiral Sefton modestly. "Very lucky shot. In the centre of his fat forehead, by Jove!"
Only on rare occasions, since those far-off days when he was a young lieutenant, had the retired naval officer handled a revolver, but his skill and deadly precision remained. Leisure hours, spent with his favourite dog and gun amidst his preserves, had done much to keep the hardy admiral's eye as bright and his hand as steady as of yore, when his revolver practice was the envy of his messmates on the old gunnery-ship Excellent.
Ejecting the empty cartridge case, the admiral loaded all six chambers. Then, ready to resume the encounter, he again levelled the weapon, at the same time protesting audibly that the first shot was a mere fluke.
Giving scant heed to his friend's remarks, Crosthwaite Senior kept the car full in the direction of his particular quarry. Over the low bank bordering the road the heavy vehicle mounted, lurching dangerously as it did so. Only by sheer chance did it escape being capsized, as the offside wheels rose three feet clear of the soft, grass-grown soil.
"Dash it all, Crosthwaite!" protested the admiral. "Fairly spoiled my shot that time. Easy ahead, man, or you'll have us all overboard."
Loud yells from another of the Huns showed that the admiral's second shot, if not so deadly as the first, had "scored an outer". Leaving his companions to continue the treacherous attack, the wounded man ran as fast as he could, still bellowing with pain, and holding his coat tails with both hands.
Only two Huns remained. Wildly firing, they stood their ground until the car was within a few feet of them.
In his keenness Major-General Crosthwaite had not taken sufficient notice of the nature of the ground. Mounting a steep hillock, the car swerved and toppled completely over, pinning the admiral beneath the chassis and throwing the other occupants headlong upon the turf.
In a flash the two Germans seized their opportunity. One, levelling his automatic pistol, fired point-blank at the prostrate general, the bullet passing completely through his uplifted arm and flattening itself against his silver cigar-case. Before the miscreant could load again--it was the last cartridge in the magazine--George flung himself upon him.