Accordingly the _Calder_ slipped quietly away, keeping under the lee of the Haisborough Sands to avoid being spotted by the enemy vessels. It was a genuine case of discretion being the better part of valour. Although not a man of her crew would have blenched had orders been given to steam full speed ahead towards the huge German battle-cruisers, Crosthwaite realized that such a step would be utterly useless. Long before the destroyer could get within torpedo-range of the foe, she would be swept clean and sent to the bottom under the concentrated fire of fifty or more quick-firers. Had it been night or thick weather the _Calder_ would no doubt have attempted to get home with her 21-inch torpedoes. The risk would be worth running. But, as matters now stood, it would be sheer suicidal madness on her part, without the faintest chance of accomplishing anything to justify the attempt. Meanwhile the destroyer was sending out wireless messages reporting the presence of the raiders. Busy in exchanging wireless signals with their far-flung line of covering torpedo-boats, and with a couple of Zeppelins that flew high overhead, the German vessels made no attempt to "jam" the _Calder’s_ aerial warning. Constantly ready for action at very brief notice, the British battle-squadrons were under weigh within a few minutes of the receipt of the _Calder’s_ message, and Beatty’s Cat Squadron was heading south-east with all possible speed before the first hostile gun thundered against Great Yarmouth. "They’ve opened the one-sided ball," remarked Sefton as a dull boom from the now invisible German ships--a single report that was quickly taken up by other heavy weapons--was borne to the ears of the _Calder’s_ crew. "And, by Jove, Whit-Monday too." "Yes," assented the doctor. "And ten to one the beach is crowded with holiday-makers. Before we left port, didn’t we see some idiotic report in the papers stating that the East Coast would be ready for holiday visitors ’as usual’?" "Let’s hope the Huns will get cut off again," said the sub. "Another _Blücher_ or two will make them sit up." "They’re too wary," replied the somewhat pessimistic medico. "They’ve been warned that the coast is clear. Before the submarines from Harwich can come up they’ll be off. And with twelve hours of daylight in front of them they’ll be back long before our sixth destroyer flotilla can make a night attack." For nearly twenty minutes the officers and men listened in silence to the furious bombardment. Several of the latter had homes in the town that now lay exposed to the enemy guns. Realizing their helplessness, they could only hope that the damage done was no greater than that of the previous naval attack on the same place, and that this time the Cat Squadron would intercept the raiders and exact a just and terrible retribution.