Without uttering a word to his companion, who sat strapped in her narrow seat cramped, breathless, and half-frozen, he passed and re-passed over the German base three or four times.
Suddenly as he went a quick swish sounded below them, and, peering down, Beryl saw a big burst of flame, followed by a terrific explosion, the concussion of which gave the machine a serious tilt.
Bang!—bang!—bang! sounded so quickly in succession that hardly had one ceased before the other reached them.
Below, the bright red flashes, angry points of light in the blackness of the night, showed vividly, while at the moment that the searchlights shone forth Ronnie, having dropped his bombs, climbed swiftly into the bank of cloud.
Higher and higher they went, until below them they only saw the clouds aglow with the glare, whether by the incendiary fires they had caused among the enemy or the searchlights they knew not.
“‘The Hornet’ has done considerable damage this time!” Ronnie laughed hoarsely, as the altimeter showed that they were still ascending. “I saw that the second bomb dropped plumb into the fitting-shop! It has, no doubt, put an end to Fritz’s activity for a good many days to come.”
“What do you intend doing now?” asked Beryl. “Going home?”
“Home? No. I’ve got four more bombs for them, yet.”
As he spoke, however, they heard the sharp bark of the enemy’s anti-aircraft guns. Yet no shell whistled near them.
The Hun is a bully, and hence a coward. Taken unawares, as he was at Zeebrugge that night, when he heard nothing and saw nothing, it was but natural that he should fire even into the air in order to scare off the British raider.