By that time every alarm on our ship was sounded--five long whistles, electric bells, a regular bedlam let loose. I never heard such a noise. The life-boats swung out ready to drop. All hands were on deck except the engineers. They stand by in the engine room until a ship is struck. As soon as she is hit their job is to put out the fires and turn off the water--that is, if they aren't blown into the middle of next week first.
About eighty yards away the submarine came up and fired point blank at us. She missed us again and she submerged. That was the last we saw of her. The destroyers were working like little flashes of lightning, picking up the men in the water, darting here and there. You've seen those dragon flies in the pools--that's what the little gray fellows were, dragon flies--here, there, everywhere. I never saw such quick work.
Along about eight we pulled into Dover. All dark, except for a few smothered lights. We anchored and went up on deck. We were pretty glad to have land so near. You felt a lot safer. The comfort didn't last long, for we heard the queerest buzz in the sky above us--a long hum.
"Zeps! By Cracky!" yelled Bill in my ear. "We're in for an air raid!"
Out of the blackness of the city before us leaped a million lights, cutting the darkness like a knife, hunting--hunting for those Zeps. Searchlights turning their yellow blaze on the sky, whisking from one point to another, relentless in their scour of the heavens.
[Illustration: The Colt gun is an important weapon for landing parties.]
Now and then they would spot one of the great black bugs that buzzed on high with that tormenting hum keep it for a second in the radius of light, losing it as suddenly, and all the while the machine guns in the city pop-popped without taking a breath.
Now and then from the sky would be hurled a black something that flamed and thundered as it struck earth. . . . Bombs! . . . Their red glare lighting up a roof--a cornice--a water front--showing groups of frenzied little black figures scurrying to shelter--then blackness once more and the pop-popping of the machine guns, spiteful, biting sound that never paused.
It lasted about half an hour. The Zeps circled Dover and went back. The guns stopped firing one by one, as though they had run down. The lights died out, save for a few on guard. Did we sleep well? We did not, in spite of the fact that we hadn't had our clothes off a single night while in the Zone.