"Here he comes!" exclaimed Fuller, indicating a faint object in the eastern sky. Rapidly it resolved itself into a large biplane with triple floats in place of the three landing wheels that form a necessary adjunct to army aeroplanes. Then the polished wood propeller, glinting in the oblique rays of the sun, could be discerned as it slowed down preparatory to the seaplane commencing a thousand feet glide. With a succession of splashes the biplane took the water, "bringing up" with admirable judgment at a distance of less than fifty yards from the starboard quarter of the parent ship. The seaplane carried a crew of two. The pilot pushing up a pair of goggles revealed a fresh-looking, clean-cut face that gave one the impression of a public school boy. Billy Barcroft was still in his teens. He had just another month to enter into his twentieth year. In height he was a fraction under five feet ten inches; weight--an important consideration from an airman's point of view--was "ten seven." Supple and active, he carried not an ounce of superfluous flesh. Standing up and lightly grasping a stay, he swayed naturally to the slight lift of the seaplane--the personification of that product of the Twentieth Century, the airman. His companion, who had just completed the "winding in" of the trailing aerial, raised his head above the coaming surrounding the observer's seat. In appearance he resembled Barcroft so strongly-that the pair might have been taken for twin-brothers. But no relationship, save the ties of friendship and duty, existed betwixt Billy Barcroft and his observer, Bobby Kirkwood. The latter was an Assistant Paymaster, who, deserting the ship's office for the freedom of the air, had already mastered the intricacies of "wireless" and other qualifications necessary for the responsible duties of observer. "You've been a jolly long time, you belated bird!" shouted Fuller in mock reproof. "What's the stunt?" "Couldn't help it," replied Barcroft with a broad grin. "If you were in my place and saw a crowd of Hun Staff officers pushing along in motor-cars wouldn't your idea of courtesy lead you to pay them a little attention? Kirkwood gave 'em a couple of plums and a whole drum. Result--a slight increase in the Hun death-rate." Barcroft had, in fact, gone well inland over the German batteries, on a sort of informal joy-ride. From a height of 5,000 feet the observer had spotted what appeared to be a motor convoy bowling along the road between Zeebrugge and Bruges. With a daring bordering on recklessness the pilot had vol-planed down to within two hundred feet, greatly to the consternation of the grey-cloaked German Staff officers, who, leaving the shelter of their steelroofed cars, scurried with loss of dignity for the safety that was denied most of them. For with admirable precision Kirkwood had dropped two bombs fairly into the line of cars, following up the attack by firing a whole drum of ammunition from the Lewis gun into the fleeing Huns.