A strong sun was beginning to shine through the intense heat-haze, and
the glare of the water was very trying.
At regular intervals I fired off a Very's light, with the idea of
attracting attention. As the coloured projectiles curved high into the
air and plunged downwards, so did our hopes seem to rise and fall.
When my Very's cartridges were exhausted, I commenced a series of
"S.O.S." messages in the Morse code on the machine-gun. The nickel
bullets of two trays of Mark VII. ammunition had winged through the
heavy air before we realized the practical futility of it all.
We therefore kept the remainder of our gun magazines intact, as also a
brace of heavy service revolvers, 455 calibre, fully loaded.
We were not to know what might crop up at any moment. A Taube might
find us and swoop down for bombing practice, or to make an easy prey.
We could not in any event be taken prisoners by hostile aircraft, as
there would be no space for us in a machine already full.
At any moment, too, a U-boat might pop up and either make a target of
us for their quick-firer or take us in tow for the Belgian coast, which
was uncomfortably near at hand.
However, come what might, we were in a mood to fight to a finish.
Unfortunately, my wireless transmitter was worked from the engine
direct, otherwise I might have rigged up an extempore aerial from the
spare reel carried, and sent a "S.O.S." from accumulators.
It is doubtful if such a scheme would have proved effective, but it
would have been worth trying. But in the circumstances I was helpless.
The heat was now simply awful, the sea dead calm. We had taken off our
leather coats long since, and now rigged them up across the fuselage
overhead, for shelter from the sun's rays.
Presently it became so hot and stuffy on the seats that both the pilot
and myself took our boots and trousers off, climbed down on the floats,
and stretched ourselves along them in the comparative shelter of the
wings and fuselage body.
The stern part of the floats was, of course, submerged, so we lay with
our lower limbs under water, and felt cooler. This we did for about
three hours, each of which seemed an age.
What with the heat and the want of food, which caused a dull throbbing
in my temples, by noon I was in such a state that I did not care what
happened to us.
The pilot (poor chap) had only recently been married, and he rattled
along continually about his young wife.
I have no wish to be in like straits again, but if such a misfortune
_should_ happen, I earnestly trust I shall not have the misfortune to
be beside a young fellow newly wedded! In the long weary time we spent
together I had the whole of his history, from childhood to courtship,
and I suppose he had mine!
What surprised us was the great number of logs floating about.
Apparently a timber boat had foundered somewhere close by.
Every log that hove in sight through the haze we thought was a ship. It
was a terrible time.
At intervals we either heard--or imagined we did--the engines of
aircraft. Sometimes they seemed all around us; sometimes a long way off.
"Our only chance is a relief seaplane being sent after us," said the
pilot. "Otherwise we are done for!"
There was precious little chance of us ever being spotted, we reckoned,
owing to the extremely low visibility.
At least a dozen times, as the day wore on, we heard the unmistakable
roar of aircraft, and it was torture to listen to them.
"It's coming nearer. They will see us!" the pilot would cry, hopefully.
Then the sound would recede into the distance, and we would become
despondent again.