The sudden transition to the light of day recalled Billy to a sense of his responsibilities. The engine was working, although he heard only a very subdued buzz. Something had to be done to avoid the impending violent impact with the waves. Billy did it--how, he could never remember, but, as in a dream, he regained control of the badly-shaken craft and began to climb resolutely from the scene of his exploit. A hasty glance at the planes revealed the unpleasant fact that huge rents were visible in the fabric. It seemed marvellous how the greatly-reduced wing-surface could impart sufficient lifting power to the machine; yet, with a disconcerting wobble she held her own against the attraction of gravity. He turned his head, half expecting to find that Kirkwood was no longer his companion, but to his unbounded satisfaction he saw the A.P. still in his seat. Not only that, but Bobby was grinning with intense glee at the successful issue of the encounter between the giant and the pigmy. His face was as black as a sweep's and streaked with blood, his flying helmet had vanished, leaving his scorched hair rippling in the furious breeze. Picking up the voice-tube the irrepressible observer shouted something to his companion. Only a strange rumble reached Barcroft's ear. He had been rendered absolutely deaf by the concussion. Pulling his diary from his pocket Kirkwood scribbled a few words and handed his paper to the pilot. "How's that?" read Billy. "Fritz got it in the neck that time. That's a great strafe." Billy held the voice-tube to his mouth in order to reply, but no sound came from his lips. Like a blow from a sledge-hammer the awful truth came home to him. He was deaf and speechless. CHAPTER XXXVIII SNATCHED FROM HER PURSUERS KIRKWOOD was quick to grasp the nature of the calamity that had overtaken his chum. Although considerably shaken by the concussion the observer was still in possession of his senses, except that his hearing was slightly impaired. Again a slip of paper passed between the two chums. On it Kirkwood had written:--"Enemy torpedo craft leaving Heligoland. Are you fit to carry on? Want any help?" Barcroft, reading the slip, nodded. The mere suggestion of relinquishing his command "bucked him up" considerably. A glance showed that Kirkwood's announcement was correct. From the anchorage on the northeast side of the island a regular swarm of hornets was emerging some of the boats steaming towards the scene of the disaster to the battleship, others heading in the direction taken by the seaplane responsible for the great catastrophe.