It was certainly not one in which the seemingly doomed occupants could have been blamed if they had thought of their safety and of nothing else. But while the pilot was, quite properly, concentrating his attention on performing as nice a feat in flying as can be imagined, Flight-Lieutenant Arnold, content to leave this matter in the skilled hands of his comrade, continued imperturbably to carry on his duties.
_Severn_, having got the range, naturally continued firing. Flight-Lieutenant Arnold, having been sent up to observe, continued observing, and each shot that he observed, on what must have seemed his last glide to certain death, was signalled to the control parties on board the monitor. The gist of this was that six out of ten shots were hitting, and apparently were hitting steadily, but all were striking _Koenigsberg_ in the bows. Arnold’s last achievement as an observer was to deflect this fire amidships and to the stern. And he had hardly succeeded before the ‘plane crashed into the water 500 yards from the _Mersey_. _Mersey_ had her motor-boat ready and it was sent full speed to the rescue. Arnold had no difficulty in getting himself free, but Lieutenant Cull was not so fortunate. In the excitement of his task he had forgotten to loosen the straps that held his belt and feet, and was fairly under water before he realized his predicament. How he wrenched himself free of these impediments is somewhat difficult to understand, and it is not surprising that his apparel suffered somewhat severely from his efforts. When he came to the surface he found Arnold scrambling about the wrecked machine in search of him, and both were got safely into the boat. The machine, smashed and waterlogged in the river, was of course past saving, and there was nothing for it but to demolish it. Take it all in all, few prettier pieces of work in the air--whether we look at the flight craftsmanship of the thing, or the practical use that the last moments of flight were put to--have yet been recorded.