A heavy shower of bullets passed them harmlessly, whistling all around them, while from somewhere—possibly from a German warship—a high explosive shell burst perilously near them, causing “The Hornet” to roll and wallow in a most disconcerting manner.
Again and again Ronnie’s adversary fired full upon him, but all to no purpose. Then suddenly a second machine came up from somewhere, and that also let loose its machine-gun. Quick spurts of blood-red flame showed first upon one side then upon the other, yet Ronnie remained quite cool, awaiting his chance of gaining an advantage and to strike.
A piece of the high explosive shell had torn the fabric of one of the planes. That was all the damage they had sustained up to the present. Surely no woman could ever have a more exciting or so perilous an experience, midway between sky and sea!
Suddenly, after climbing and diving, Ronnie saw his opportunity, and, making a sudden swerve, cried to Beryl:
“Get ready!”
“I’m ready,” she answered.
Again he climbed, and as he rose past the machine which was pressing him so closely, he said:
“Fire!”
In an instant Beryl’s gun spluttered, sending forth its leaden hail full into the centre of the German machine. Beryl held her breath, and watched the enemy’s searchlight quiver, rise, and then suddenly pointing downwards, swiftly become smaller and smaller as it descended towards the sea.
“He’s gone!” cried Ronnie with relief. “Pilot and observer both killed, I should say.”