The commander of the Zeppelin thought, no doubt, that our intention was to rise and drop a bomb upon him, and he was now travelling very quickly in order to try and outpace us. In this, however, he did not succeed.
How far we travelled I have no idea. In those moments I lost all sense of time and of distance. I only know that, though so high, I could distinguish the Thames with its few dotted lights about, though we were rapidly leaving London behind.
We were passing over Essex, for I could plainly see the Thames widening upon my right, and I was gradually overhauling the enemy.
At that moment I steadied myself, for I knew that the smallest slip would mean death to us both. At signal from me Teddy—who had already had the dynamo running for some time—placed his hand upon the switch which controlled the unseen, but deadly current.
Slowly I crept nearer and nearer. Four thousand yards off—three thousand—another spurt—then I judged I was only two thousand yards away. Yet try how I would, I could get no nearer.
Again I set to work and, letting out my roaring engines to their full power, I slowly decreased the space between the fleeing monster and myself, Teddy still awaiting my signal.
Next instant I saw yet another spurt of fire from the rear gondola of the Zeppelin, and felt a hot, burning sensation in my forearm.
Then I knew that I had been hit!
I nudged Teddy, and he nodded. He understood and with the end of the box in which was the large, lens something like a camera, directed full upon the enemy, he pulled over the switch.
The result was appalling.