"Miss Drummond was in the engine-room when the first salvo flung her against the levers, nearly stunning her, After she had got the other engineers to get everything going at the top she called the engine-room and stokehold staffs together, pointed to the ladder and said, 'Get out' She gave them a chance for their lives, and stayed alone. It was hell down there. Cast-iron pipes were fractured, electric wires parted, tubes broken, and joints started, but her iron body and mighty heart stood it. She nursed ihe engines at each salvo of the bomber, then coaxed the maximum out of them to give the extra touch of speed necessary for the helm, "I saw her once during that time, her face expressionless and ghastly white, her hand straight above her head, holding the main throttle control.' Down her face, completely closing one eye, was a wide black patch of fuel oil, trickling from a strained joint. That alone must have been agony. She was all-in at the end, but an hour later was picking up spent bullets which had fallen all round the control platform on which she had been standing."
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.