Suddenly, deep below, yet some miles ahead, I saw a blood-red flash.
The Zeppelin had dropped a bomb!
Again I switched on the little light, and a glance at my altimeter
showed that I was up eleven thousand feet, therefore I pushed straight
along in the direction of that red glare.
That it was an incendiary one I saw, because the flare continued far
down in the misty workaday world below.
The Zeppelin was executing its evil work upon the harmless civilian
inhabitants.
I craned and peered around on all sides, but could see nothing else--
only the glare from the incendiary fire.
The night was rapidly growing brighter, and we could see the stars.
Again we heard a violent cannonade, and once more half a dozen beams of
searchlights swept the sky from several points evidently much nearer to
London. More than once the searchlights picked us up and examined us
with suspicion, blinding us with their glare the while.
Once more from below there came up two loud detonations--high explosive
bombs--yet we could see no Zeppelin, though we peered into the darkness
again as soon as the searchlight left us.
Blinded by the glare, I had banked a little too steeply, and nearly had
another bad nose-dive. Teddy noticed it, and said something, but what
it was I could not hear for the roar. That an enemy airship was about,
and that it had dropped incendiary bombs was proved by the three or four
red glares we could distinctly see beneath us.
No doubt the Zeppelin was moving fast, dropping her bombs preparatory to
rising and escaping beyond the zone of our anti-aircraft guns. I rose
higher, but still no sign of it. Apparently the searchlights, having
once located it, had again lost it, for once more all the guns were
silent.