Summary

Percy F. Westerman The Sea-girt Fortress: A Story of Heligoland

For an instant Jack Hamerton's eyes glinted ominously. He was within an ace of knocking the intruders overboard but, recalling that such an act might be disastrous to his comrade and himself, he controlled his feelings with a strong effort.
"It's no use resisting, old man," said he to Detroit, who was beginning to follow the drift of things. "They have put us under arrest for contravening some silly regulation. We've got to go ashore in their boat. Hang it! How can a fellow stand on his dignity when he's rigged out in pink-and-white pyjamas?"
Source: Gutenberg

Percy F. Westerman The Sea-girt Fortress: A Story of Heligoland

The nearest hostile seaplane was actually immediately above the lighthouse at the end of the North Pier of Tynemouth harbour when a twelve-pounder shell from the Cullercoats Battery struck her. In the twinkling of an eye the graceful bird-like machine was literally blown to atoms, the explosion of her petrol tanks throwing out spurts of lurid flame out of which fragments of the ill-fated craft fell with unequal velocity into the sea.
Undeterred by this catastrophe, the second aeroplane, travelling through the air at a rate of seventy miles an hour, passed over the South Pier.
Source: Gutenberg

Percy F. Westerman The Sea-girt Fortress: A Story of Heligoland

The good folk of Delfzyl were evidently thought-readers, for directly the Englishmen left the station they were surrounded by a gesticulating mob, every man, woman, and child in the crowd pointing out the way to the quay where the Diomeda lay.
It was low tide, the Dollart and the estuary of the Ems River were one expanse of sand and mud. The yacht lay against a staging of massive piles. On the quay was a line of stolid Dutchmen, all peculiarly garbed in quaint cutaway coats, baggy trousers, klompen or wooden shoes, and dull-black high-crowned hats.
Source: Gutenberg

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