The plane gave a sudden lift and shuddered.
“We are hit.” But still they glided on.
Then came the distant roar.
“Thank God!” Norma screamed. “Climb, Rosa! Climb!” But they did not climb. They could not. The Seagull had been hit.
The first shot from the fort was quickly followed by another. Both shells burst almost beneath them, giving them a lift they would not soon forget. The shells, Norma saw, must have found their mark for, when she played her light on the water she found only tiny bits of something. The sub and motorboat had vanished.
“Quick, Rosa!” she cried. “Head for the shore.”
“We will go to shore,” was the slow reply. “Perhaps we shall go, but not quick. The Seagull, she is hit. She may die.”
Norma came to realize this more and more as the gallant plane sank slowly toward the sea.
They were in close to land when, with a suddenness that was startling, the seaplane’s motor stopped and then they plunged into the sea.
Norma hit the water hard. She sank. She rose. She sank again and then, as she rose, she began to swim.