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{\LARGE\strut{THE AIRSHIP "GOLDEN HIND"}}
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\noindent
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the \hyperlink{project-gutenberg-license}{Project Gutenberg License} included with
this ebook or online at {https://www.gutenberg.org/license}. If you
are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws
of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
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\noindent
Title: The Airship "Golden Hind"
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Author: Percy F. Westerman
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Release Date: April 19, 2012 {[}eBook \#39488{]}
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Language: English
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*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AIRSHIP "GOLDEN HIND" ***
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Produced by Al Haines.
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THE AIRSHIP "GOLDEN HIND"
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{\noindent}
{\centering
{\normalsize{ by}}
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\par

{\centering
{\Large\strut{Percy F. Westerman}}
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{\centering
{\footnotesize{AUTHOR OF}}
\endgraf}
\par

{\centering
"THE SECRET BATTLEPLANE," "THE MYSTERY SHIP,"
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"BILLY BARCROFT OF THE R.N.A.S.,"
 \\
ETC., ETC.
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{\centering
ILLUSTRATED BY
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FLEMING WILLIAMS
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{\centering
Publishers
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PARTRIDGE
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London
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1920
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{\footnotesize{MADE IN GREAT BRITAIN}}
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{\raggedright
{\footnotesize{THE GREAT ADVENTURE SERIES}}
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\vs{2}
{\noindent}
{\itshape{PERCY F. WESTERMAN:}}\par


\vs{1}
{\noindent}
The Airship "Golden Hind"
 \\
To the Fore with the Tanks
 \\
The Secret Battleplane
 \\
Wilmshurst of the Frontier Force\par


\vs{2}
{\noindent}
{\itshape{ROWLAND WALKER:}}\par


\vs{1}
{\noindent}
Deville McKeene: The Exploits of the Mystery Airman
 \\
Blake of the Merchant Service
 \\
Buckle of Submarine V2
 \\
Oscar Danby, V.C.\par


\vs{1}
{\noindent}
LONDON:
 \\
S. W. PARTRIDGE \& CO., LTD.\par
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――――
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{\noindent}
CONTENTS}

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\item[] {\noindent}
\hyperlink{chapter-i-a-startling-proposition}{CHAPTER I--A STARTLING PROPOSITION}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-ii-fosterdyke-explains}{CHAPTER II--FOSTERDYKE EXPLAINS}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-iii-the-golden-hind}{CHAPTER III--THE "GOLDEN HIND"}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-iv-the-departure}{CHAPTER IV--THE DEPARTURE}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-v-first-away}{CHAPTER V--FIRST AWAY}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-vi-z64-scores}{CHAPTER VI--Z64 SCORES}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-vii-delays}{CHAPTER VII--DELAYS}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-viii-cast-adrift}{CHAPTER VIII--CAST ADRIFT}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-ix-the-escapade-of-enrico-jaures}{CHAPTER IX--THE ESCAPADE OF ENRICO JAURES}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-x-under-examination}{CHAPTER X--UNDER EXAMINATION}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xi-with-intent}{CHAPTER XI--"WITH INTENT"}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xii-confidences}{CHAPTER XII--CONFIDENCES}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xiii-the-tail-of-a-cyclone}{CHAPTER XIII--THE TAIL OF A CYCLONE}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xiv-the-boat-s-crew}{CHAPTER XIV--THE BOAT'S CREW}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xv-revelations}{CHAPTER XV--REVELATIONS}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xvi-the-observation-basket}{CHAPTER XVI--THE OBSERVATION BASKET}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xvii-a-surprise-for-captain-prout}{CHAPTER XVII--A SURPRISE FOR CAPTAIN PROUT}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xviii-under-fire}{CHAPTER XVIII--UNDER FIRE}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xix-victims-of-a-revolution}{CHAPTER XIX--VICTIMS OF A REVOLUTION}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xx-wireless-reports}{CHAPTER XX--WIRELESS REPORTS}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xxi-von-sinzig-s-bid-for-safety}{CHAPTER XXI--VON SINZIG'S BID FOR SAFETY}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xxii-the-end-of-z64}{CHAPTER XXII--THE END OF Z64}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xxiii-a-dumping-operation}{CHAPTER XXIII--A DUMPING OPERATION}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xxiv-within-sight-of-success}{CHAPTER XXIV--WITHIN SIGHT OF SUCCESS}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xxv-fire}{CHAPTER XXV--FIRE!}\par

\item[] \hyperlink{chapter-xxvi-well-played-sir}{CHAPTER XXVI--"WELL PLAYED, SIR!"}\par
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{\centering
――――
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{\LARGE\strut{The Airship "Golden Hind"}}
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\penalty-300%
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CHAPTER I--A STARTLING PROPOSITION}

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{\noindent}
"What's the move?" enquired Kenneth Kenyon.\par

"Ask me another, old son," replied his
chum, Peter Bramsdean.  "Fosterdyke is
a cautious old stick, but he knows what's
what.  There's something in the wind, you
mark my words."\par

"Then you're going to see him?"\par

"Rather!  And you too, old bean.
Where's a pencil?  We can't keep the
telegraph boy waiting."\par

Bramsdean tore a form from a pad,
scribbled on it the reply--"Fosterdyke,
Air Grange, near Blandford.  Yes, will
expect motor to-morrow morning," and
he had taken the initial step of a journey
that man had never before attempted.\par

Kenyon and Bramsdean were both
ex-flying officers of the Royal Air Force.
What they did in the Great War now
matters little.  Sufficient is it to say that
had they belonged to any belligerent
nation save their own they would have
been styled "aces"; but since in the
Royal Air Force details of personal
achievements were deprecated, and the
credit given to the Force as a whole, they
merely "carried on" until ordered to "get
out," or, in other words, be demobilised.
Then, each with a highly-prized decoration
and a gratuity of precisely the same
amount as that given to an officer who
had never served anywhere save at the
Hotel Cecil, they found themselves literally
on their feet, relegated to the limbo of
civilian life.  It was not long before they
found how quickly their gratuities
diminished.  Like many other ex-members of
His Majesty's Forces, they began to realise
that in smashing the German menace
they had helped to raise a menace at
home--the greed and cupidity of the Profiteer.\par

They were just two of thousands of skilled
airmen for whom as such there was now
no need.  Commercial aviation had yet to
be developed; trick flying and exhibition
flights lead to nothing definite, and only a
very small percentage of war-time airmen
could be retained in the reconstituted Air Force.\par

Kenyon and Bramsdean were not men
to "take it lying down."  They had pluck
and resource and a determination to "get
a move on," and within a twelvemonth
of their demobilisation they found
themselves partners and sole proprietors of a
fairly prosperous road transport concern
operating over the greater part of the South
of England.\par

But it wasn't the same thing as flying.
Looking back over those strenuous years
of active service, they remembered vividly
the good times they had had, while the
"sticky" times were mellowed until they
could afford to laugh at those occasions
when they "had the wind up badly."\par

Then, with a suddenness akin to the
arrival of a "whizz-bang," came a telegram
from Sir Reginald Fosterdyke, asking the
chums to see him on the morrow.\par

Sir Reginald Fosterdyke had been
Bramsdean's and Kenyon's O.C., or, to employ
service phraseology, a Wing-Commander.
On his demobilisation he went to live at Air
Grange, a large old-world house standing
on high ground, a good five miles from
Blandford.  Very rarely he left his
country-house; his visits to town were few and far
between, and his friends wondered at the
reticence of the versatile and breezy
Fosterdyke.  He seldom wrote to anyone.
When he did, his correspondence was brief
and to the point.  More frequently he
telegraphed--and then he meant business.
In pre-war days Air Grange was famous
for its week-end house parties.  The
shooting, one of the best in the county of Dorset,
was an additional source of attraction to
Fosterdyke's guests.  But the war, and
afterwards, had changed all that.  Few,
very few, guests were to be found at Air
Grange; the staff of servants was greatly
reduced, the well-kept grounds developed
a state of neglect.  Sir Reginald's friends
came to the conclusion that the baronet had
become "mouldy."  They wondered what
possessed him to live an almost
hermit-like existence.  Fosterdyke knew their
curiosity, but he merely shrugged his
shoulders and "carried on."  His work in
the world of aviation was by no means
ended.  It might be said that it was yet
a long way from attaining its zenith.\par

Early on the morning following the
receipt of the baronet's telegram Sir
Reginald's car pulled up in front of the
premises used as the headquarters of the
Southern Roads Transport Company.
Kenyon and Bramsdean, having given
final instructions to their work's foreman--a
former flight-sergeant R.A.F.--jumped
into the car, and were soon whisking
northwards at a speed that was considerably in
excess of that fixed by the regulations.\par

Although of a retiring disposition, Sir
Reginald Fosterdyke had made a point of
keeping in touch with his former officers.
He had a sort of personal interest in every
one of them, and on their part they regarded
him as one of the best.  Whenever, on rare
occasions, Fosterdyke ran down to
Bournemouth he invariably looked up Bramsdean
and Kenyon to talk over old times.  But
being invited to Air Grange was quite a
different matter.  Vaguely, the chums
wondered what it might mean, conjecturing
ideas that somehow failed to be convincing.
Yet they knew that there was "something
in the wind."  They knew Sir Reginald and
his methods.\par

Through Blandford, up and past the now
deserted hutments where formerly German
prisoners led an almost idyllic existence
in their enemy's country, the car sped on
until it gained the lofty downs in the
direction of Shaftesbury.  Then, turning up a
steep and narrow lane, the car drew up at
the gate of Air Grange.\par

It had to.  There was no gate-keeper to
unlock and throw open the massive iron
gates.  That task the chauffeur had to
perform, stopping the car again in order
to make secure the outer portals of Sir
Reginald's demesne.\par

While the car remained stationary the
two occupants looked in vain for a glimpse
of the house.  All they could see was a
winding, weed-grown road, with a thick
belt of pine trees on either hand.  To the
left of the road and under the lee of the
trees were half a dozen wooden huts,
unmistakably of a type known as temporary
military quarters.  Smoke issuing from the
chimneys suggested the idea that they
were in "occupation," and a couple of
dungaree-clad men carrying a length of
copper pipe on their shoulders confirmed
the fact.  Somewhere from behind the
trees came the sharp rattle of a pneumatic
drilling machine.\par

Kenyon glanced at his companion.\par

"What's the Old Man up to, I wonder?"
he enquired.  "Quite a labour colony.
Look--air flasks too, by Jove!"\par

A pile of rusty wrought-iron cylinders
stacked on the grass by the side of the path
recalled visions of by-gone days.\par

"Something doing, that's evident,"
agreed Bramsdean.  "What's the stunt,
and why are we hiked into it?"\par

"Wait and see, old bird," replied Kenyon.\par

The chauffeur regained the car and slipped
in the clutch.  For full another quarter of a
mile the car climbed steadily, negotiating
awkward corners in the rutty, winding path,
until, emerging from the wood, it pulled up
outside the house of Fosterdyke.\par

No powdered footman awaited them.
On the steps, clad in worn but serviceable
tweeds, stood Sir Reginald Fosterdyke
himself.\par

The baronet--generally referred to by
his former officers as the Old Man--was of
medium height, broad-shouldered, and
deep-chested.  He was about thirty-five years
of age, with well-bronzed features, clean
shaven, and possessed a thick crop of
closely-cut dark brown hair tinged with iron grey.\par

He held out his left hand as Kenyon and
Bramsdean ascended the stone steps--his
right hand was enveloped in surgical
bandages--and greeted his guests warmly.\par

"Glad to see you, boys!" he exclaimed.
"It's good of you to come.  Have a glass
of sherry?"\par

He led the way to the study, rang a bell,
and gave instructions to a man-servant
whom Kenyon recognised as the O.C.'s
batman somewhere in France.\par

Sir Reginald sat on the edge of the table
and whimsically regarded his former
subordinates.  At that moment, rising above the
staccato rattle of the pneumatic hammer,
came the unmistakable whirr of an aerial
propeller.  To Kenyon and Bramsdean it
was much the same as a trumpet-call to an
old war-horse.\par

"Sounds like old times, eh?" remarked
Sir Reginald.\par

"Rather, sir," agreed Kenyon heartily,
and, at a loss to express himself further,
he relapsed into silence.\par

"Experimental work, sir?" enquired Bramsdean.\par

Fosterdyke nodded.\par

"Yes," he replied in level tones.  "Experimental
work, that's it.  That's why I
sent for you.  I'm contemplating a flight
round the world.  Keen on having a shot at it?"\par

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CHAPTER II--FOSTERDYKE EXPLAINS}

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{\noindent}
The two chums were not in the least taken
aback with the announcement.  They knew
the way of their late O.C.  On active service
Fosterdyke was in the habit of issuing
orders for certain operations to be
performed without apparently considering
the magnitude or the danger of the
undertaking.  The officer or man to whom the
order was given almost invariably executed
it promptly.  In the few cases where
the individual instructed to carry out a
"stunt" failed to rise to the occasion, that
was an end of him as far as his service
under Wing Commander Sir Reginald
Fosterdyke went.  Fosterdyke had no use
for faint-hearted subordinates.\par

On the other hand, Kenyon and Bramsdean
were astonished at being invited to
take part in what promised to be the
biggest aerial undertaking ever
contemplated.  After nearly two years "on the
ground" the prospect of "going up"
seemed too good to be true.\par

"Business difficulties, perhaps?"
hazarded Fosterdyke, noting the faint signs
of hesitation on the part of the two chums.
"Think it over.  But I suppose you'd
like to have a few particulars of the stunt
before committing yourselves?"\par

"I think it could be arranged, sir,"
replied Kenyon.  "As regards our little show,
we could leave it to our head foreman.
He's a steady-going fellow and all that sort
of thing.  It's merely a question of a
month, I suppose?"\par

"Less than that.  Twenty days, to give a
time limit," declared the baronet.  "Either
twenty days or--{\itshape{phut}}!  However, I'll
outline the salient features of the scheme.\par

"Like a good many others, it arose out
of an almost trivial incident--a bet with
an American Air Staff officer whom I met
in London just after the Yankee seaplane
NC4 flew across the Atlantic--or rather
hopped across.  Without detracting from
the merits of the stupendous undertaking,
it must be remembered that the seaplane
was escorted the whole way, and alighted
several times {\itshape{en route}}.  The Yankee--General
U. B. Outed is his name--offered to
bet anyone \$50,000 that an American
aircraft would be the first to circumnavigate
the globe.\par

"Half a dozen of us took him on; not
that we could afford to throw away an
equivalent to ten thousand pounds, but
because we had sufficient faith in the Old
Country to feel assured that the accomplishment
of a flight round the world would be
the work of a British owned and flown machine.\par

"Shortly after the wager was accepted
came the news that R34 had flown from
East Fortune to New York in 108 hours,
making the return journey in 76 hours.
That rather staggered General Outed, I
fancy, and he had a greater shock when
Alcock and Brown covered nearly 2,000
miles between Newfoundland and Ireland
without a single stop.\par

"Things from a British aviation point
of view looked particularly rosy; then for
some obscure reason our Air Board appeared
to let the whole matter of aerial navigation
slide, or, at any rate they gave no encouragement.
The big dirigibles were dismantled
and sold; powerful aeroplanes were
scrapped, air-stations were closed, and in a
parsimonious wave of retrenchment even
our old Royal Air Force was threatened
with ignominious relegation to a corps under
the control of the War Office.\par

"About three months ago a wealthy
Swiss--a M. Chauvasse--who had made a
pile in the United States, offered a prize
to the value in British money of £25,000
to be given to the first airman to
circumnavigate the globe, either in a lighter or a
heavier than air machine.  The prize is
open to all comers, and already a Yankee
and a German have announced their
intention of competing."\par

"A Hun!" exclaimed Kenyon.  "I
thought that Fritz, under the terms of the
armistice, had to surrender all his aircraft."\par

"But he hasn't," remarked Fosterdyke,
drily.  "Nor is he likely to; and if the
Allies haven't the means to enforce the
terms, that's not my affair.  If a Hun does
compete, let him.  That's my view.
Providing he doesn't resort to any of his dirty
tricks, there's no valid reason why the door
should be banged in his face.  Because he's
down and out is no reason why we should
continue to sit on him.  Commercially, I
regard German goods as a means to reduce
the present extortionate prices of things in
England.  I'm no believer in dumping, I
never was; but if our manufacturers
cannot compete with the products of a country
beaten in war and torn by internal troubles,
then there's something wrong somewhere.
But I am digressing.\par

"Briefly, the terms of the contest are as
follows: any type of machine or engine
can be employed, and as many descents
as are necessary to replenish fuel and stores.
A start can be made from any place chosen
by the competitor, but the machine must
finish at the same spot within twenty days.
Again, any route can be chosen, so that full
advantage can be taken of existing air
stations, but--and this is a vital point--in
order to fairly circumnavigate the globe,
competitors must pass within one degree
of a position immediately opposite the
starting-point.  Do you follow me?"\par

"What is known in navigation as Great
Circle Sailing," replied Bramsdean.  "If a
start is made somewhere on the 50th
parallel North, the halfway time will be
somewhere 50 degrees South, with a
difference of 180 degrees of longitude."\par

"That's it," agreed Sir Reginald.  "Now
the difficulty arises where to find two
suitable places answering to these
conditions.  With the exception of a small part
of Cornwall the whole of Great Britain lies
north of latitude 50....  Therefore, to
reach the 50th parallel in the Southern
Hemisphere would mean making a position
far south'ard of New Zealand--where, I
take it, there are no facilities for landing
and taking in petrol.\par

"Nor is the vast extent of the United
States any better off in that respect.  I
think I am right in saying that there is
no habitable land diametrically opposite to
any place in Uncle Sam's Republic."\par

Fosterdyke produced a small globe from
a corner of the room in order to confirm his
statement.\par

"And the old Boche is a jolly sight worse
off," said Kenyon.  "I don't suppose any
British Dominion will tolerate him.  It's
certain he won't be allowed to fly over any
Allied fortress, so where is he?"\par

"Paying the penalty for his misdeeds,"
replied Sir Reginald, grimly.  "It's not
exactly a case of {\itshape{vae victis}}.  If he'd played
his game, he would have taken his licking
with a better grace because it wouldn't
have hurt him so much."\par

"How many competitors are there for
the Chauvasse Stakes, sir?" asked Bramsdean.\par

"A Yank, a Hun, and myself," replied
Fosterdyke.  "That is, up to the present.
For some reason the idea hasn't caught on
with our fellows.  Probably there'll be a
rush of entries later on--perhaps too late.
I'll show you my little craft; but before doing
so I'll give you a few details of the contest.\par

"My idea is to start from Gibraltar--for
the actual race, of course.  I'll have to
take my airship there, but that's a mere
detail.  Why Gibraltar?  Here's an
encyclopædia, Kenyon.  Look up the position
of Gib."\par

"Lat. 36° 6' N.; long.  5° 21' W.,"
replied Kenyon, after consulting the work.\par

"And the antipodes of Gib. would be
lat. 36° 6' S.; long. 174° 39' E.," continued the
baronet.  "The longitude, of course, being
easily determined by adding 180 to that of
Gibraltar.  Now the next thing to be done
(as a matter of fact I've determined it
already) is to find a habitable spot
approximating to the second set of figures.  Look
up Auckland, Kenyon."\par

"Auckland is lat. 36° 52' S.;
long. 174° 46' E.," replied Kenneth.  "Why,
that's less than a degree either way."\par

"Exactly," agreed Fosterdyke.  "The
next point is to determine the air route
between the two places, so as to make the
best of the prevailing winds.  When one
has to maintain an average speed of fifty
miles an hour for twenty days the
advantage of a following wind cannot be
ignored."\par

"Your 'bus'll do more than that, sir,"
remarked Peter Bramsdean.\par

"She'll do two hundred an hour,"
declared the baronet, emphatically.  "I
haven't had a trial spin yet, but she'll
come up to my expectations.  It's the
stops that lower the average.  Naturally
I mean to take the east to west course.  It
means a saving of twenty-four hours.  If
I took the reverse direction, I'd be a day
to the bad on returning to the starting-point.
The actual course I'll have to work
out later.  That's where I want expert
assistance.  Also I want the aid of a
couple of experienced navigators.  And so
that's why I sent for you."\par

"We're on it," declared both chums.\par

"I thought as much," rejoined
Fosterdyke with a smile.  "There's one thing I
ought to make clear--the matter of terms."\par

Kenyon made a deprecatory gesture.\par

"Not so fast, Kenyon," protested his
chief.  "It's a rock-bottom proposition.
Twenty-five per cent. of the prize if we
are successful is your collective share.  If
we fail, then I'm broke--absolutely.  I've
sunk my last penny into the concern,
because I'm hanged if I'm going to sit still
and let a foreigner be the first to make an
aerial circumnavigation of the globe.  Now
let me introduce you to the airship 'Golden Hind.'"\par

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CHAPTER III--THE "GOLDEN HIND"}

\unskip\vskip 40pt\nobreak

{\noindent}
"Appropriate name the 'Golden Hind,'"
remarked Bramsdean, as the three
ex-R.A.F. officers made their way towards the
concealed hangar.  "That's what Drake's ship
was called, and he was the first Englishman
to circumnavigate the world."\par

"Yes," replied Fosterdyke.  "We must
take it as an augury that this 'Golden Hind'
will do in the air what her namesake did
on the sea."\par

"Not in every respect, I hope," said
Kenneth Kenyon, with a laugh.  "Drake
did a considerable amount of filibustering
on his voyage, I believe."\par

"Ah, yes," answered Sir Reginald.
"Those were good old days.  Now left,"
he added.  "Mind yourselves, the brambles
are a bit dangerous."\par

Turning off the grass-grown road and
down a side path, the two chums found
themselves entering a dense thicket that formed
an outer fringe of the pine wood.\par

"Short cut," remarked Fosterdyke,
laconically.  "Now, there you are."\par

A glade in the woods revealed the end
of a lofty corrugated iron shed, the hangar
in which the "Golden Hind" was fast
approaching completion.  The baronet
"knew his way about."  He knew how to
deal with the dictatorial and often
completely muddled officials who ran the Surplus
Disposals Board, and had succeeded in
obtaining, at a comparatively low cost, a
practically new airship shed, together with
an enormous quantity of material.\par

"Now tell me what you think of her,"
he said, throwing open a small door in the
rear end of the building.\par

Kenyon and Bramsdean paused in
astonishment at what they saw.  The "Golden
Hind" was neither airship nor aeroplane in
the strict sense of the word, but a hybrid
embodying the salient features of both.
The fuselage, constructed almost entirely of
aluminium, was a full 120 feet in length, and
enclosed so as to form a series of cabins or
compartments.  Amidships these attained
a beam of 15 feet, tapering fore and aft
until the end compartments terminated in a
sharp wedge.  Wherever there were observation
windows they were "glazed" with light
but tough fire-proof celluloid, sufficiently
strong to withstand wind-pressure.\par

On either side of the hull, as Fosterdyke
termed it, were six planes arranged in pairs,
each being 30 feet in fore and aft direction,
and projecting 25 feet from the side of the
fuselage.  Thus the total breadth of the
"Golden Hind" was well under 60 feet.  On
angle brackets rising obliquely from the
fuselage were six large aluminium propellers,
chain-driven by means of six 350-h.p. motors.\par

"Some power there," remarked Kenyon,
enthusiastically.\par

"Rather," agreed Sir Reginald.  "Sufficient
to lift her independently of the gas-bag,
while in the unlikely event of the motors
giving out there is enough lifting power in
the envelope to keep her up for an indefinite
period.  Did you notice the small propellers
in the wake of the large ones?"\par

"Yes, sir," replied Bramsdean.  "Left-handed blades."\par

"Precisely," agreed Fosterdyke.  "They
work on the same shaft, only in a reverse
direction.  It's a little stunt of mine to
utilise the eddies in the wake of the main
propellers.  Yes, petrol-driven.  I tried to
find an ideal fuel, one that is non-inflammable
or practically so, except in compression;
but that's done me so far.  There's a huge
fortune awaiting the chemist who succeeds
in producing a liquid capable of conforming
to these conditions.  I even made a
cordite-fired motor once--something on the
Maxim-gun principle, fed by cordite grains from a
hopper.  It did splendidly as far as developing
power was concerned, but the difficulty
of excessive consumption and the pitting of
the walls of the cylinder did me.  However,
my experiments haven't all been failures.
Now look at the gas-bag."\par

"It's only partly inflated," observed Peter.\par

"No, fully," corrected Fosterdyke.  "The
envelope is a rigid one of aluminium,
subdivided into forty-nine compartments, each
of which contains a flexible ballonet.  Each
ballonet is theoretically proof against
leakage--in practice there is an almost
inappreciable porosity, which hardly counts for a
comparatively short period, say a month.
The gas isn't hydrogen, nor is it the helium
we used during the war.  Helium, although
practically non-inflammable, is heavier than
hydrogen.  Fortunately, I hit upon a rather
smart youngster who had been in a
Government laboratory before he joined the R.A.F.
With his assistance I discovered a gas that
is not only lighter than hydrogen, but is as
non-inflammable as helium.  I've named
the stuff 'Brodium,' after the youngster
who helped me so efficaciously.  When this
stunt's over, we're going to work the gas on
a commercial basis, but for the present it's
advisable to keep it a secret.\par

"You observe that the section of the
envelope is far from being circular.  The
horizontal diameter is three-and-a-half times
that of the vertical.  That gives less surface
for a side wind, and consequently less drift,
while the 'cod's head and mackerel tail'
ought to give a perfect stream-line."\par

"You carry a pretty stiff lot of fuel with
those motors," remarked Kenyon.\par

"Rather," was the reply.  "Enough for
5000 miles; which means, allowing for
deviations from a straight uniform course,
about six halts to replenish petrol tanks.
We carry no water ballast of any description.
When the fuel supply runs low, there is a
tendency for the airship to rise, owing to
the reduced weight.  To counteract this, a
certain quantity of brodium is exhausted
from the ballonets into cast-iron cylinders,
where it is stored under pressure until
required again.  The leakage during this
operation is less than one-half per cent.
Now we'll get on board."\par

Past groups of busy workmen the three
ex-officers made their way.  Both Kenyon
and Bramsdean noticed that the men
worked as if they had an interest in what
they were doing.  Several they recognised
as being in the same "Flight" in which
they had served on the other side of the Channel.\par

"Like old times," said Kenyon in a low voice.\par

"Rather, old son," agreed his chum.\par

They boarded the "Golden Hind," where
workmen were putting finishing touches to
the interior decorations of the cabins.  The
floor was composed of rigid aluminium plates,
corrugated in order to provide a firm
foothold, and temporarily covered with sacking
to prevent undue wear upon the relatively
soft metal.\par

The door--one of the four--by which they
entered was on the port side aft.  It opened
into a saloon 20 feet by 7 feet, which in
turn communicated with a fore-and-aft
alley-way extending almost the extreme length
of the fuselage.\par

"We'll start right aft and work for'ard,"
said Fosterdyke.  "If you can suggest any
alterations in the internal fittings, let me
know.  It often happens that a new arrival
spots something that the original designer
has overlooked."\par

"Must have taken some thinking out,
sir," remarked Bramsdean.\par

"M'yes," agreed Sir Reginald.  "I'm
afraid I spent some sleepless nights over
the business.  This is my cabin."\par

The chums found themselves in a
compartment measuring 15 feet in a fore-and-aft
direction and 10 feet across the for'ard
bulkhead, the width diminishing to the
rounded end of the nacelle.  It was plainly
furnished.  A canvas cot, a folding table,
and two camp chairs comprising the principal
contents.  The large windows with celluloid
panes afforded a wide outlook, while should
the atmospheric conditions be favourable,
the windows opened after the manner of
those in a railway carriage.\par

Retracing their steps, the chums inspected
the motors immediately for'ard of the
owner's cabin.  Each was in a compartment
measuring 10 feet by 6 feet, leaving
an uninterrupted alley-way nearly 3 feet in
length between.\par

"The fuel and oil tanks are underneath
the alley-way," Fosterdyke pointed out.
"I'm using pressure-feed in preference to
gravity-feed.  It keeps the centre of gravity
lower.  What do you think of the engines?"\par

"Clinking little motors," replied Kenyon,
enthusiastically, as he studied the spotlessly
clean mechanism with professional interest.\par

"There are six motor rooms, three on
each side," observed the baronet.  "I'm
taking twelve motor-mechanics to be on the
safe side.  When we are running free, one
man will look after two engines, but in any
case half the number will be off-duty at a
time.  Now, this is your cabin."\par

He opened a sliding-door on the port side,
corresponding with the officers' dining-room
on the starboard side.  It was a compartment
20 feet by 6 feet 6 inches, with a bunk
at each end running athwartships, and as
plainly furnished as the owner's quarters.\par

"Heaps of room," declared Bramsdean,
"and warming apparatus, too."\par

"Yes," replied Fosterdyke, "we had
the exhausts led under the cabins.
Nothing like keeping warm at high altitudes.
Warmth and good food--that's more than
half the battle.  See this ladder?"\par

He indicated a metal ladder in the alley-way,
clamped vertically to the outer wall
of the cabin.\par

"Leads through that hatchway," he
continued, "right to the upper surface of
the envelope.  There's an observation
platform--useful to take stellar observations
and all that sort of thing.  But you won't
find a machine-gun there," he added with
a laugh.\par

Passing between the 'midship pair of
motor-rooms, Fosterdyke halted in a
door-way on the port side.\par

"Pantry and kitchen," he remarked.\par

"I'm taking a couple of good cooks.  All
the stoves are electrically heated.  There's
a dynamo working off the main shaft of
each of the 'midship motors.  The
starboard one provides 'juice' for the kitchen;
that on the port generates electricity for
the searchlights and internal lighting.
Underneath are fresh water tanks and dry
provision stores."\par

On the port side corresponding to the
kitchen were the air-mechanics' quarters;
while beyond the for'ard motor room the
alley-way terminated, opening into a triangular
space 30 feet long and 12 feet at its
greatest breadth.\par

"The crew's quarters," explained
Fosterdyke.  "Ample accommodation for eight
deck-hands and the two cooks.  You'll
notice that the head-room is less than
elsewhere.  That's because of the
navigation-room overhead."\par

The chums looked upwards at the ceiling.
There was no indication of a hatchway of
any description.\par

"You gain the navigation-room from the
alley-way," explained Sir Reginald, noting
their puzzled glances.  "Saves the
inconvenience of disturbing the 'watch below'
by having to pass through their quarters.
Up with you, Kenyon.  Thank your lucky
stars you're not a bulky fellow.  Mind
your head against that girder."\par

Bramsdean followed his chum, the
baronet bringing up the rear.\par

The combined chart-room and navigation
compartment was spacious in extent, but
considerably congested with an intricate
array of levers, telephones, indicators,
switches, and a compact wireless cabinet.
In the centre was a table with clamps to
hold a large-size chart.  Right "in the
eyes of the ship" was a gyroscopic compass,
which, by reason of the needle pointing to
the true, instead of the magnetic, north pole,
greatly simplified steering a course, since
those complicated factors, variation and
deviation, were eliminated.  Altimeters,
heeling indicators, barometer, thermometer,
and chronometer, with other scientific
instruments, completed the equipment of
the room, which was in telephonic
communication with every part of the airship.\par

From the car the three men ascended to
the interior of the envelope, climbing by
means of aluminium rungs bolted to the
flexible shaft.  Once inside the rigid
envelope, it was possible to walk the whole
five hundred feet length of the airship along a
narrow platform.  From the latter crossways
ran at frequent intervals so that access
could be obtained to any of the ballonets.\par

The interior reeked of the strong but not
obnoxious fumes of the brodium.\par

"Leak somewhere," remarked Kenyon,
sniffing audibly.\par

"Yes," agreed Fosterdyke, "one of
the supply pipes gave out this morning;
otherwise you wouldn't know by the sense
of smell that the envelope was fully charged."\par

He struck a match and held it aloft.
It burned with a pale green flame.\par

"I wouldn't care to do this with
hydrogen," he remarked.  "Non-inflammability
of the gas practically does away with
all risk.  When you recall the numerous
accidents to aircraft in the earlier stages of
the war, you will find that in over eighty
per cent. they were caused by combustion.
Of course I'm referring to disasters other
than those caused directly by enemy action.
Now, carry on; up you go ... no, hold
on," he added, as a bell rang shrilly just
above their heads.\par

"One of the workmen coming down,"
said Fosterdyke.  "Opening a flap at the top
of this shaft automatically rings an alarm,
otherwise anyone ascending might stand
the risk of being kicked on the head by the
feet of someone else descending."\par

"By Jove!  I know that chap!"
exclaimed Kenyon, after the mechanic had
descended the long vertical ladder.\par

"Yes, it's Flight-sergeant Hayward,"
added Bramsdean.  "He got the D.C.M.
for downing two Boche 'planes over Bapaume."\par

"That's right," agreed the baronet.
"Jolly fine mechanic he is, too.  Do you
happen to know how he came to join the
Royal Flying Corps?  No; then I'll let
you into a secret.  It was in '16 that he
enlisted.  Previous to that he was a
conscientious objector, and, I believe, a genuine
one at that.  What caused him to change
his opinions was rather remarkable.  Do
you remember that Zepp raid over
Lancashire?  Hayward was driving a
motor-lorry that night somewhere up in the hills
north of Manchester; a bomb fell in the
road some yards behind him and blew the
back of his lorry to bits.  He came off
with a shaking and a changed outlook on
life.  Next morning he joined up.  Yes,
Hayward's quite a good sort; he's been
invaluable to me."\par

"Had any trouble from inquisitive
outsiders, sir?" asked Kenyon.\par

"No, none whatever," replied Fosterdyke.
"Touch wood.  People in the village
hereabouts have seen enough aircraft during
the war to take the edge off their curiosity.
As for our rival competitors, well, if they
can pick up a wrinkle or two it will make
the contest even more exciting."\par

"If we succeed there'll be a stir," said
Bramsdean.\par

"Yes," agreed the baronet; "it's the
first who scores in these undertakings.
See what a fuss was made when the
Atlantic was first flown by aeroplanes.  If
the feat were repeated, not a fraction of
public interest would be directed to it.
The novelty has gone, as it were.  Even
interest in the flight to Australia--in itself
an epic of courage, skill, and determination--was
limited.  Sensations of yesterday
become mediocrities of to-day.  For instance
Blériot's flight from France to England:
see what an outburst of excitement that
caused.  Since then thousands of machines
have crossed the Channel without exciting
comment.  Now I think I've shown you
everything that is to be seen.  How about lunch?"\par

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CHAPTER IV--THE DEPARTURE}

\unskip\vskip 40pt\nobreak

{\noindent}
"Will next Monday suit you fellows to
take on officially?" enquired Fosterdyke,
as the chums prepared to depart.  "I want
a trial flight on that day, and if it proves
satisfactory, I'll make a formal entry at
once.  M. Chauvasse stipulates that all
entries must reach him in writing by noon
on the thirtieth.  That leaves us with only
eight days clear."\par

"Monday it is, sir," replied Kenyon,
promptly.  "We'll have everything fixed
up as far as our private business is
concerned before then.  In fact, we could
arrange to join earlier--couldn't we, Peter?"\par

Peter Bramsdean signified his agreement.\par

"Hardly necessary," observed Fosterdyke.
"But if anything unforeseen transpires
before then I'll wire you."\par

During the next few days there was much
to be done in "squaring up" the motor
transport work.  Notices were issued
stating that the principals, Messrs. Kenyon
and Bramsdean, would be away for six
weeks, during which time all orders could
be safely entrusted to their works manager.
Even that individual had no inkling of
the nature of his employers' forthcoming
absence.  The secret, jealously guarded,
had not yet leaked out.\par

On the other hand, the Press published a
report of M. Chauvasse's offer and stated
that three entries other than British had
been received.  The lack of enterprise on
the part of British airmen was commented
upon and an appeal issued to sportsmen to
make an effort to prevent yet another
record passing into the hands of foreigners.\par

On the day following this journalistic
jeremiad came the report that a British
airship of unique design was approaching
completion at a private aerodrome near
Blandford, and that the Air Ministry had
given instructions for all facilities to be
afforded to its crew in their attempt to
circumnavigate the globe within a space of
twenty days.  Details, both erroneous and
exaggerated, were given of the mysterious
airship, together with plans that were as
unlike those of the "Golden Hind" as
those of a modern dreadnought would be
compared with those of Drake's famous ship.\par

"That will rattle the Old Man," declared
Kenyon, when he read the announcement.\par

It did.  Fosterdyke sent a wire asking
his two assistants to join him at once.  That
was on the Friday morning.  At 2.30 P.M.--or
in Air Force phraseology 14.30--Kenyon
and Bramsdean arrived at Air Grange, to
find a vast concourse of would-be spectators
congregated round the gates, backing up
the efforts of a knot of persistent Pressmen
who cajoled, bluffed, and argued--all in
vain--with the imperturbable Hayward
and four hefty satellites.\par

The grassy slopes outside the formidable
fence resembled Epsom Downs on Derby
Day.  Momentarily motor-cars were
arriving, while at frequent intervals heavily
laden char-a-bancs rumbled up and
discharged their human cargo.  Motor-bicycles,
push-bikes, traps and carts added
to the congestion.  Thousands of people
arrived on foot--from where goodness only
knows!  Hawkers and itinerant purveyors
displayed their wares; photographers, both
amateur and professional, elbowed their way
towards the forbidden ground; while three
brass bands and at least a dozen individual
musicians added to the din.  On the
outskirts temporary platforms had been erected,
while hirers of telescopes, field and opera
glasses did a roaring trade, people willingly
paying to gaze at the impenetrable barrier of
fir-trees in the vain hope of catching a
glimpse of the mysterious airship.\par

It took Kenyon and Bramsdean the best
part of an hour to literally force their way
through the throng.  By dint of shouting
"Gangway, please," they continued to
make a certain amount of progress until
their arrival, coupled with the ex-sergeant's
efforts to make the crowd stand aside,
attracted the attention of the
representatives of the Press.\par

For five minutes the latter bombarded
the chums with questions, getting
inconsequent replies that put the reporters on
their mettle.\par

"If we aren't allowed in, we'll take jolly
good care you won't be," shouted one of
the Press representatives, evidently
mistaking Peter and Kenneth for favoured
spectators.\par

There was a rush towards the gates.  The
half a dozen policemen assisting Hayward
and his men were almost swept off their
feet.  Things looked serious.  If Kenyon
and his companion succeeded in getting past
the gate it would only be in the midst of
an excited mob.\par

Just then Sir Reginald Fosterdyke
appeared.  Some of the local inhabitants
recognised him, and the report of his
identity quickly spread.  So when he raised his
hand to enjoin silence the crowd surging
around the gate ceased its clamour.\par

"By preventing my navigating officers
you only defer your own ends," he
exclaimed in ringing tones.  "The airship
is not yet ready for flight, nor is she open
to inspection.  A trial flight has been
fixed for Monday next.  On that day the
aerodrome will be thrown open to public
inspection.  And," he added, with a
disarming smile, "there will be no charge for
admission."\par

Almost instantly the demeanour of the
crowd changed.  There were calls for cheers
for Sir Reginald Fosterdyke.  Someone
started singing: "For he's a jolly good fellow."\par

The baronet turned and hurried away
precipitately.  Publicity he hated.
Kenneth and Peter, taking advantage of this
diversion, slipped inside the barrier and
found Fosterdyke awaiting them beyond
the bend of the carriage drive.\par

"Good old British public," he exclaimed.
"By Jove!  They put the wind up me.  I
thought that they would be swarming like
locusts over the 'Golden Hind.'  We'll
have to circumvent them.  Only last night
some of the crew found a fellow prowling
round the shed.  Goodness only knows
what for.  He pitched some sort of yarn,
and since we aren't under the Defence of
the Realm Act I couldn't detain him.  But
this crowd scares me.  We'll get out
to-night, even if we have to drift, and they can
have the run of the place on Monday, as I
promised.  But I said nothing about the
airship being here or otherwise.  Where's
your kit?"\par

"Somewhere between here and Blandford
railway station," replied Peter.  "We
saw we'd have our work cut out to force
our way through, so we told the taxi-driver
to take it back to the station.  It isn't the
first time we've parted with our kit, eh,
Kenneth?"\par

"I'll send for it when the crowd thins,"
decided Sir Reginald.  "Now I suppose
you're wondering why I telegraphed for you?"\par

"The swarm outside offers a solution," said Kenyon.\par

"To a certain extent, yes," agreed
Fosterdyke.  "Apart from that, there's a reliable
report that Captain Theodore Nye, of the
United States Army, is starting from Tampa,
Florida, to-morrow in one of the large
airships of the 'R' type that the Air Ministry
sold to America recently.  That forces our
hand.  We'll have to be at the
starting-point--1100 miles away--by to-morrow
mid-day, so as to replenish petrol and commence
the competition flight before midnight."\par

"And how about the Boche, sir?"\par

"Count Karl von Sinzig?  Not a word.
He's apparently out of it.  Not even one
of the 'also rans.'  Our formidable rivals
are the Yankee and a Jap--a Count Hyashi--who
will reach his Nadir somewhere in
Uruguay.  Let 'em all come--the more
the merrier."\par

All hands, including the workmen and
mechanics who were not participating in the
voyage, assembled in the large dining-hall
for an impromptu farewell dinner, and to
them the baronet broached the subject of the
hurried departure of the "Golden Hind."\par

The meal over, the task of getting the
huge airship out of her shed began.  Even
though the wind was light the work was by
no means simple.  Incautious handling or
a sudden change in the direction of the air
currents might easily result in disaster.
The operation had to be carried out after
sunset and with the minimum of artificial
light, since, for the present, the "Golden
Hind's" departure was to be kept secret.\par

With her ballonets charged sufficiently
to give her a slight lift, the airship rose
until the base of the fuselage was a bare
three feet from the ground.  The crew
were at their stations, Kenyon assisting
Fosterdyke in the wheelhouse, while right
aft Peter Bramsdean directed the
movements of the "ground-men" holding the
stern, securing, and trailing ropes.\par

Inch by inch, foot by foot, the leviathan
of the air emerged from the shed until her
entire length, straining gently at the rope
that tethered her to mother earth, lay
exposed to the starlit sky.\par

"All clear, sir!" reported Bramsdean
through a speaking-tube.\par

Curt but precise orders rang out from the
navigation-room.  The slight hiss of the
brodium being released from the metal
cylinders was barely audible above the
sighing of the wind in the pine-tops until
the gauges registering the "lift" of the
airship indicated thirty-eight tons.\par

Armed with a megaphone, Fosterdyke
leant out of the window of the navigation-room.\par

"All ready? ... Let go!"\par

Simultaneously the twenty men holding
the airship released their hold.  That was
where training and discipline told, for
terrible to contemplate would have been
the fate of an unwary "ground-man" had
he retained his grip on the rope.  But
without an accident to mar the momentous
event, the "Golden Hind" shot almost
vertically into the air, attaining in a very
short space of time an altitude of six
thousand feet.\par

Not a cheer rang out to speed the
departing competitor for the stupendous contest.
Unheard and unseen save by the loyal band
of helpers at the aerodrome, Sir Reginald
Fosterdyke's airship was on her way to the
starting-point of her voyage round the globe.\par

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CHAPTER V--FIRST AWAY}

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{\noindent}
Hanging apparently motionless in still air,
although virtually she was drifting in a
southerly direction at a modest ten miles
an hour, the "Golden Hind" maintained
her altitude for the best part of half an
hour before any attempt was made to start
the motors.  She was now to all intents
and purposes a non-dirigible balloon,
floating aimlessly in the air.\par

Peter Bramsdean, his work aft
accomplished, made his way to the
navigation-room, where he found the baronet and
Kenyon watching the galaxy of lights far
beneath them.\par

"We're drifting over Poole Harbour,"
observed Fosterdyke.  "That's prohibited
for private owned aircraft; but who's to know?"\par

"I often wonder what would happen,"
said Peter, "if a non-dirigible drifted over
a prohibited area.  Hang it all!  The
balloonist couldn't control the wind, neither
can the Air Ministry, so what's the poor
fellow to do?"\par

From their lofty post of observation the
officers of the "Golden Hind" could see
the coast-line standing out distinctly in the
starlight.  Away to the south-east the
powerful St. Catherine's Light threw its
beam athwart the sky in a succession of
flashes every five seconds.  Nearer, but less
distinct, could be seen the distinctive lights
of The Needles and Hurst Castle.  Then a
curved line of glittering pin-points--the
esplanade lamps of Bournemouth.  To the
south-west the lesser glare of Swanage and
beyond the glow of Anvil Point Lighthouse.
Lesser lights, like myriads of glow-worms,
denoted scattered towns, villages, and
detached houses ashore, while right ahead
and for the most part visible only by the
aid of binoculars, could be discerned the
red, green, and white navigation lights of
shipping passing up and down the Channel.\par

The three men watched the nocturnal
panorama almost without emotion.  The
sight would have moved a novice into
raptures of delight, but to the veteran
airmen there was little new, except perhaps
that in the place of star-shells, searchlights,
"flaming-onions," and exploding shrapnel
were the lights of a nation once more at
peace with her neighbours even if not so
with herself.\par

Fosterdyke glanced at a clock set upon
the bulkhead.\par

"Time!" he announced laconically.\par

Indicators clanged in various parts of
the ship.  Within a few seconds the six
motors, started by compressed air, were
roaring.  Swaying slightly under the
resistance of the gas-bag overhead, the airship
gathered way.  In place of complete calm
came the rush and whine of the wind as the
"Golden Hind" leapt forward.\par

"May as well be on the safe side,"
remarked Fosterdyke.  "Switch on the
navigation lights, Kenyon.  I don't fancy
another 'bus barging into us."\par

He gave an order through a voice tube.
Promptly one of the crew appeared from
below.\par

"Take her, Taylor," said the skipper,
indicating the helm.  "Following
wind--no drift.  Course S. ¾ W."\par

"S. ¾ W. it is, sir," repeated the man,
peering into the bowl of the gyroscope compass.\par

"Now, you bright beauties, take my tip
and turn in," said Fosterdyke, addressing
Peter and Kenneth.  "There won't be
much doing to-night, I hope, so you may
as well make the best of things.  If you'll
relieve me at four, Kenyon? ... Good."\par

The chums left the navigation-room and
made their way to their cabin.  Here,
although adjoining one of the motor-rooms,
there was comparatively little vibration,
but the noise was considerable.\par

"We'll get used to it," observed Peter,
as he proceeded to unpack his luggage,
which had been brought from Blandford
station and put on board only a few minutes
before the "Golden Hind" parted company
with terra firma.  "Seems like old times.
Hanged if I thought I'd ever be up again."\par

"Between ourselves I'd prefer a 'bus,"
confided Kenyon.  "Doesn't seem quite
the right thing being held up by a gas-bag."\par

"Be thankful for small mercies, you old
blighter!" exclaimed his companion.  "Turn
in as sharp as you can, 'cause it's your
watch in four hours' time."\par

It seemed less than ten minutes before
Kenyon was awakened.  His first
impression was that he was being roused by
his batman, and that illusion was heightened
by the fact that the man held a cup of tea.\par

"Ten to four, sir," announced the
airman.  "I've made you something hot."\par

Kenneth thanked the man, drank the tea,
and slipped out of his bunk.  He was aware
as he donned his clothes that the "Golden
Hind" was pitching considerably.  Peter,
sound asleep, was breathing deeply.  There
was a smile on his face; evidently his
dreams were pleasant ones.\par

On his way for'ard Kenyon stopped to
exchange a few words with the air-mechanic
tending the two after motors.\par

"Running like clocks, sir," replied the
man in answer to Kenneth's enquiry.  "If
things go on as they are going now, I'm on
a soft job."\par

The first streaks of dawn were showing
in the north-eastern sky as the relieving
pilot clambered up the ladder and gained
the navigation-room.  Fosterdyke, busy
with parallel rulers and compass was
bending over a chart.\par

"Mornin'," he remarked genially, when
he became aware of the presence of his
relief.  "Everything O.K.  Doing eighty,
and there's a stiff following wind--force
five.  Altitude 5500, course S. ¾ W.
That's the lot, I think.  We ought to
be sighting the Spanish coast in another
twenty minutes."\par

Fosterdyke waited until the helmsman
had been relieved, then, giving another
glance ahead, he turned to Kenyon.\par

"We passed something going in a westerly
direction at 1.15 A.M.," he announced.
"An airship flying fairly low.  About 2000,
I should think."\par

"Not a competitor, sir?"\par

"Hardly.  No one but a born fool would
think of taking a westerly course round the
earth if engaged in a race against time.  We
were passing over Belle Isle, on the French
coast, at the time, and it rather puzzled me
why an airship should be proceeding west
from the Biscayan coast."\par

"French patrol, possibly," suggested Kenyon.\par

"Or a Hun running a cargo of arms and
ammunition to Ireland.  I signalled her,
but she didn't reply.  Right-o!  Carry on."\par

Fosterdyke went to his cabin, to sleep
like a log.  He was one of those fortunate
individuals who can slumber almost
anywhere and at any time, but rarely if ever
did he sleep for more than five hours at a
stretch.  Even after a strenuous day's
mental and physical work he would be "as
fresh as paint" after his customary "caulk."\par

Left in the company of the airman at the
helm, Kenyon prepared to accept responsibility
until eight o'clock.  He took up his
position at the triplex glass window, the
navigation-room being the only
compartment where celluloid was not employed
for purposes of lighting.  It was a weird
sight that met his gaze.  Overhead and
projecting from beyond the point of the
nacelle was the blunt nose of the gas-bag,
the port side tinted a rosy red as the
growing light glinted on it, the starboard
side showing dark grey against the sombre
sky.  A thousand feet below were rolling
masses of clouds, their nether edges suffused
by dawn.  Between the rifts in the bank
of vapour was apparently a black,
unfathomable void, for as yet the first signs
of another day were vouchsafed only to
the airman flying far above the surface of
the sea.  Already the stars had paled
before the growing light.  Wisps of
vapour--clouds on a higher plane to the denser
ones below--were trailing athwart the
course of the "Golden Hind," until,
overtaken by the airship's high speed, they were
parted asunder, to follow in the eddying
wake of the powerful propellers.\par

In the navigation-room, being placed
right for'ard, the jerky motion of the
fuselage that was noticeable in Kenyon's
cabin was greatly exaggerated.  It was a
totally different sensation from being in an
aeroplane when the 'bus entered a "pocket."  It
reminded Kenyon of a lift being
alternately started up and down with only a
brief interval between.  Rather vaguely the
pilot wondered what he would be like at
the end of twenty-one days of this sort of thing.\par

"Bucking a bit, isn't she, Thompson?"
he remarked to the helmsman, who,
relieved of the responsibility of maintaining
a constant altitude by the fact that the
airship was automatically controlled in
that direction, was merely keeping the
vessel on her compass course.\par

"Yes, sir," replied the man.  "She'll
be steadier when we trim the planes."\par

"Might have thought of that before,"
soliloquised Kenyon.  He remarked that
the six "wings" were secured in a
horizontal position.  For the present the
"Golden Hind" was kept up solely by the
lift of the brodium in the ballonets.  Not
until it was fully light would Fosterdyke
reduce the gas in the ballonets and rely
upon the planes for "lift."\par

A quarter of an hour later, while Kenyon
was engaged in making an entry in the log,
the helmsman reported land ahead.\par

The "Golden Hind" was approaching
the Spanish coast, not in the hostile way
in which her namesake did, but on a
friendly voyage across a country that, if
not exactly an ally, is bound by strong ties
to Great Britain.\par

The airship was soon passing over
Santander.  Ahead the Cantabrian
Mountains reared themselves so high in the air
that the "Golden Hind" had to ascend
another three thousand feet to ensure an
easy crossing.\par

At eight o'clock Fosterdyke appeared in
the navigation-room.  Under his orders the
airship's speed had been sensibly
diminished.  He intended to put to a practical
test the lifting powers of the six planes.\par

Close behind him came Bramsdean, on
whom the duties of officer of the watch
devolved for the next four hours.\par

"Well, old bird," he observed, genially
addressing his chum.  "How goes it?"\par

"Fresh as paint," replied Kenyon, "but
as hungry as a hunter."\par

"Then hook it," continued Peter.  "The
cook's dished up a sumptuous breakfast."\par

Kenyon made a hurried but ample meal.
He was anxious to see how the "Golden
Hind" manoeuvred as an aeroplane.\par

Upon returning to the navigation-room
he found that the six comparatively small
wings were being tilted to an effective angle,
while a large quantity of brodium was being
exhausted from the alternate ballonets
into the pressure-flasks, until there was
only enough "lift" remaining in the
envelope to prevent it dropping earthwards
and thus disturbing the stability of the
fuselage by acting as top-hamper.\par

Simultaneously instructions were
telegraphed to the air mechanics standing by
the six motors to increase the number of
revolutions.\par

The change was instantly appreciable.
No longer did the "Golden Hind" pitch.
She settled down to a rapid, steady motion,
her speed being not far short of 150 miles an hour.\par

"No ailerons," explained Fosterdyke.
"Horizontal and vertical rudders only.
Saves a lot of trouble and complication of gear."\par

"Stunts not permissible, sir?" asked Kenyon.\par

"No," he replied.  "They are not.
We're out to do something definite, not to
let the Spanish have an exhibition of an
airship making a spinning nose-dive or
looping the loop.  But we'll do a volplane, just
to test the gliding powers of the 'bus."\par

He touched a switch by which a warning
bell rang in each of the motor rooms.  This
was to inform the mechanics that the electric
current would be simultaneously cut off
from the six motors, so that there would be
no need on their part to endeavour to locate
faults that did not exist.\par

"Cut out!" ordered Fosterdyke.\par

Bramsdean promptly depressed a small
switch by the side of the indicator-board.
This automatically cut off the ignition.
The propellers made a few more "revs." and
then came to a standstill.  In almost
absolute silence, save for the whine of the
wind in the struts and tension wires the
"Golden Hind" began her long, oblique
glide earthward.\par

Suddenly Kenyon gripped the baronet's arm.\par

"Look!" he exclaimed.  "Airship!"\par

Fosterdyke did as requested.  The
"Golden Hind" was manoeuvring high
above La Mancha, the undulating
well-watered plain between the Montes del
Toledo and the Sierra Morena.  Six
thousand feet beneath the airship the town of
Ciudad Real glinted in the slanting rays of
the morning sun.\par

"Our shadow--that's all," declared
Fosterdyke.\par

"No, not that," protested Kenneth.
"More to the left."\par

He grasped a pair of binoculars and
looked at the object that had attracted his
attention.  It was a somewhat difficult
matter, owing to the refraction of the triplex
glass in front of the navigation-room,
where, in contrast to the rest of the
windows, fire-proofed celluloid had not been
employed.\par

Before Kenyon had got the airship in
focus the baronet had also spotted it.
Apparently it had just left its shed and
was heading in a south-easterly direction,
differing a good four points from that
followed by the "Golden Hind."\par

"By Jove!" exclaimed Kenyon.  "It's
a Fritz!  I can spot the black crosses on
the envelope."\par

"In that case," added Fosterdyke,
calmly, "Count Karl von Sinzig has
stolen a march on us.  He's one up!"\par

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CHAPTER VI--Z64 SCORES}

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{\noindent}
Count Karl von Sinzig was certainly the
"first away."  Typically Teutonic, he had
succeeded in throwing dust in the eyes of
his rivals.  Acting upon the principle
"Do others or they'll do you," he was
leaving no stone unturned to pull off the
big prize; and, figuratively speaking, a
good many of the stones were too dirty
for a clean sportsman to handle.\par

For one thing von Sinzig had obtained
his airship by fraud, although none of the
other competitors were aware of the fact.
Formerly in the German Air Service, the
count managed to smuggle one of the
Zeppelins out of the shed at Tondern,
taking it by night to an aerodrome in East Prussia.\par

According to the terms of the Peace
Treaty, Germany was to surrender all her
airships.  How she evaded the stipulation
is now well known.  The Zeppelins at
Tondern and other air stations in Sleswig-Holstein
were destroyed by fire deliberately,
to prevent them falling into the hands
of the Allies.  This act of bad faith was
similar to the scuttling of the Hun fleet at
Scapa; and the tardiness of the Allies to
obtain reparation merely encouraged the
Huns to other acts of passive defiance.
But, although the destruction of the airships
was taken as an accepted fact, it was
unknown outside certain Junker circles that
one of the Zeppelins had been removed
before the conflagration.\par

Revolutions and counter-revolutions, in
which the fire-eating von Sinzig had several
narrow escapes from death, led the count
to seek pastures new; and about this time
the publication of M. Chauvasse's terms
for the international contest suggested
to the Junker count the possibility of
making good his financial losses.\par

Gathering a crew of airmen who had had
experience in Zeppelins during the war,
von Sinzig flew the airship to Spain,
crossing Austria and the north of Italy during
the night, and carefully avoiding French
territory on his aerial voyage.\par

In a secluded part of the mountainous
Estremadura he had practically his own
way.  The Alcaldes of the nearest
surrounding villages were easily bribed to
leave the mysterious airship and its foreign
owner severely alone.  From stores of
German war material "sold" to Spain
von Sinzig obtained gas cylinders, petrol,
spares, and even a baby "Albatross"--a
small yet powerful monoplane.  With
folding wings this machine could with ease
be stowed away in the car of the airship.
With German thoroughness the Count,
looking well ahead, foresaw that the Albatross
would probably serve a most useful
purpose in helping him to win the coveted prize.\par

The honour of being the first man to
fly round the world took quite a subsidiary
place in von Sinzig's plans.  Since Germany
did not own a square inch of territory
outside Europe, he was compelled to make use
of alien lands in which to alight.  That
was a handicap, and the thought of it
rankled.  There was some consolation to
be derived from the prospect of wresting
the big prize from a hated Englishman,
a despised Yankee, or a miserable yellow
Jap.  And he meant to do it--somehow.\par

Already Germans had resumed their
"peaceful penetration" of Great Britain
and the United States.  Commercial
travellers, representing German houses and at
the same time potential spies, were able
to ascertain with little difficulty particulars
concerning the British and American
competitors for the Round-the-World Flight.
The moment von Sinzig learnt of the date
of Sir Reginald Fosterdyke's departure
from England, he anticipated the time by
starting the day before the British airship
was supposed to leave Gibraltar.\par

This was a comparatively easy matter.
According to the terms of the contest,
competitors had to obtain a clearance certificate
from an official of the International Airways
Board.  Provided the flight were
completed within twenty days of the date of
the certificate the principal condition was
complied with, while it was furthermore
specified that the certificate could be
post-dated to the extent of twelve hours
to allow for the time taken up in transmission
from the Board's representative to the
actual competitor.\par

In von Sinzig's case he scored again.
Employing a swift motor-car, he obtained
the official {\itshape{visé}} at Madrid, and was back
at the rendezvous within two and a half
hours, the atrocious roads notwithstanding.\par

Everything was in readiness for the start,
and at ten in the morning Z64 left her shed
and, flying at a comparatively low altitude,
made off in a south-easterly direction.\par

The German was counting on forty-eight
hours' start of his English rival--possibly
more.  He had been informed that the
"Golden Hind" proposed leaving England
on the following Monday.  Fosterdyke
really meant to have started on that day,
and only the exuberant demonstration of
the crowd outside Air Grange had made him
alter his plans.  It was a lucky stroke, for
Fosterdyke's secret intelligence department
was at fault.  According to information
received from Germany, Count von Sinzig
was a non-starter.  Incidentally it was the
count who had set that rumour afloat.
It was but one of the many petty artifices
upon which he built his hopes of carrying
off the Chauvasse Prize.\par

Chuckling to himself, Count von Sinzig
stood beside the helmsman of Z64, quite in
ignorance of the fact that a few thousand
feet above him was the British airship
which he fondly thought was resting in
her shed in far-off England.\par

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CHAPTER VII--DELAYS}

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{\noindent}
"Avast stunting!" declared Fosterdyke.
"Let's get on with it.  Full speed to Gib."\par

Everyone on board realised that every
minute was precious.  With her six motors
running "all out" the "Golden Hind"
quickly worked up to her maximum speed
of 180 miles an hour.  At that rate the
petrol consumption was alarming, but
Fosterdyke faced the fact cheerfully.  While
he was obtaining the necessary certificates
and making an official declaration to the
authorities at Gibraltar, the airship could
replenish her somewhat depleted fuel tanks.\par

But Sir Reginald had not taken into
account the vagaries of red tape and petty
officialdom.\par

At 11 A.M. the "Golden Hind" sighted
the historic Rock.  Five minutes later she
slowed down and turned head to wind off
the west side of the fortress.  With the
assistance of a dockyard mooring-party,
a stout galvanised steel wire was lowered
from the bow compartment of the fuselage
and secured to a large mooring buoy off
the Detached Mole.  Then with sufficient
gas in her ballonets to keep her buoyant
the "Golden Hind" floated head to wind
at 50 feet above the Bay of Gibraltar.\par

Almost before the mooring operations
were completed the water in the vicinity
was crowded with boats of all sorts, sizes,
and descriptions, while the water-front was
packed with a dense concourse of interested
spectators, representatives of the umpteen
nationalities to be found living on the few
square miles of thickly-populated rock.\par

"Nothing you want ashore, I suppose?"
enquired Fosterdyke as he prepared to
descend a wire ladder, the end of which
was being steadied by a couple of
bluejackets in a picket-boat.\par

"Thanks, no," replied Kenyon.\par

"That's good," continued the baronet,
fervently.  "Hate having to execute
commissions.  Not that I don't like obliging
people, but I'm so deucedly forgetful.
Right-o; stand by.  I'll be back in less
than a couple of hours, I hope.  Come
along, Bramsdean."\par

Agilely Fosterdyke swarmed down the
swaying ladder, followed at a safe distance
by Peter, who carried a parcel of documents
and a Mercator's chart on which the
proposed route was marked for the benefit of
the International Air Committee's
representative and also the "Competent
Military Authorities" of the various garrisons
where the "Golden Hind" was scheduled to land.\par

Peter Bramsdean had plenty of
experience of petty officialdom at the Air
Ministry.  He well remembered the
time--running into hours all told--of weary
waiting in draughty corridors until it
pleased certain individuals holding high
places to signify their condescension
(conveyed by a pert damsel in brown overall
and a pigtail tied with an enormous bow)
to receive the insignificant lieutenant.\par

Here it was much the same.  The officials
who were considered indispensable in
the matter of signing various documents
were "out to lunch."\par

A look of horrified amazement overspread
the features of the minion to whom
Fosterdyke suggested that time would be
saved by sending for them.  The British
Empire might totter; the chance of
winning fame by being the first airman to
fly round the globe be lost; but by no
possibility must such trivial details prevent
officialdom from having its lunch--a
movable feast occupying normally from one
o'clock till three.\par

"Hang it all, Bramsdean!" exclaimed
Fosterdyke explosively during one of the
numerous periods of forced inaction.
Clearly the usually unruffled baronet was
showing signs of annoyance.  "Hang it
all!  It was ever thus.  Petty hirelings
whose one idea of efficiency is to raise
obstacles and to quibble over unimportant
details; those are the stumbling blocks.
For twopence I'd cut the cackle and carry on."\par

"And be disqualified at the winning
post," reminded the cautious Peter.
"We're wasting precious time----"\par

"It'll be an unofficial competition, then,"
declared Fosterdyke.  "The honour of
achieving the flight will be enough.  The
money prize can go hang.  Come along,
let's make tracks."\par

"I vote we look up the Commissioner at
his private quarters," suggested Bramsdean.
"After all, the 'Golden Hind' won't
have refilled her petrol tanks yet."\par

"'Spose not," growled Fosterdyke.
"Someone's illegible signature's required
for the indents, I presume.  Right-o,
Bramsdean, let's rout out this indispensable."\par

Somewhat to Peter's surprise the official
was discovered with little difficulty.  He
had just finished his lunch, and as the meal
had been a satisfying one, he was in high good humour.\par

"So Count von Sinzig has five hours'
start, eh?" remarked the worthy
representative of the International Air Board.
"That's nothing.  You'll make that up
easily.  The documents?  Ah--yes--quite
so.  Unfortunately, the seals are in my
office.  I'll be along there very shortly."\par

"Isn't your signature enough?" asked the baronet.\par

The great one hesitated.  On the one
hand, he wanted to impress his callers by
admitting that his signature was
"absolutely it."  On the other, years of
punctilious devotion to the ethics of red tape
urged him to deprecate such a cutting of
the Gordian knot.\par

"No, Sir Reginald," he replied.  "Both
are necessary.  One is not conclusively in
order without the other.  I'll be at the
office by three."\par

It was now a quarter-past two.  Fosterdyke
felt strongly inclined to enquire
pointedly why three-quarters of an hour
would be taken up by the Commissioner in
getting from his quarters to his office.\par

By ten minutes past three the various
documents were sealed and signed.  As
the competitors were on the point of
taking their departure the Commissioner
spoke again.\par

"I don't seem to have seen Form 4456,"
he observed dryly.  "That had to be
obtained before you left England."\par

"It wasn't," replied the baronet, bluntly.
"An oversight, I admit, but you don't
suggest that I return to England to get it?"\par

"It is necessary," was the rejoinder.
"Without it the flight would not be in order.
In fact, as an authorised representative of
the International Air Board I can rule you
out of the contest."\par

"Piffle!" declared Fosterdyke hotly.
He was rapidly nearing the end of his
restraint.  "This, I may observe, is a
contest of aircraft, not a paper competition.
Form 4456 is not an absolute essential.
Since you require it, I presume the case
can be met if my representative in
England has the form made out and sent
to you by registered post.  It will be in
your hands before the 'Golden Hind'
completes the circuit."\par

The Commissioner consulted a ponderous
tome, chock-a-block with rules and
regulations for aerial navigation, written in
official phraseology so confusing that it
was possible to have more than one
interpretation for at least seventy-five per
cent. of the complicated paragraphs.\par

Quoting Article 1071, sub-section 3c,
the official made the discovery that the
rendering of Form 4456 could be dispensed
with in circumstances laid down in Article
2074, section 5c, etc., etc.  Thereupon he
rang a bell, summoned a head clerk, who in
turn deputed a junior to fetch a certain
form.  When this was forthcoming a blob
of sealing-wax, the impress of a seal, and
the great man's illegible signature, and the
trick was done.  As far as the International
Air Board was concerned the "Golden
Hind" was a recognised and duly authorised
competitor for the Chauvasse Prize.\par

There was still the Recognised Military
Authority to be dealt with.  That official
was urbanity personified.  He did
everything in his power to expedite matters, but
red tape was stronger than gold lace.\par

The loud report of a gun warned
Fosterdyke and his companion that sunset had
descended upon the Rock.  The gates of
the fortress were closed till sunrise.\par

"Won't affect you," explained the
courteous official.  "You can get back
by the boat from the Old Mole.  I won't
keep you very much longer.  It really isn't
my fault."\par

"Gibraltar was a bad choice of mine for
a starting-point," observed Fosterdyke.\par

"'Fraid so," agreed the other.  "Ah,
here we are.  Thank you, Wilson.  Where's
my fountain pen?  Where's----  Oh, dash
it all, where's everything? ... That's
settled, then.  Have a drink before you go?
No?  Well, cheerio, and the very best of luck."\par

Armed with the necessary documents,
"sealed, signed, and delivered," Fosterdyke
and Bramsdean found themselves in the
open air.  Darkness had already fallen.
It was a good two miles from Little Europa
Point to the Old Mole, and not a vehicle of
any sort was to be seen.\par

Tired, hot, and hungry they reached the
spot where a naval pinnace was supposed
to be awaiting them.  It was not there.  A
message erroneously delivered had sent the
boat back to the dockyard.  Not to be
done, Fosterdyke hired a native boat,
paying without demur a villainous-looking
Rock Scorp the excessive sum he demanded.\par

For a quarter of an hour the boat rowed
about while the baronet and his companion
gazed aloft in the hope of spotting the
"Golden Hind" against the dark sky.\par

"She's gone!" declared Bramsdean.\par

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Fosterdyke,
irritably.  "Why should she?"\par

Nevertheless in his mind he was convinced
that such was the case.\par

Presently the boat ran close to the buoy
to which the airship had been moored.
Both men recognised the buoy by the
number painted on it.  No wire rope ran
upwards to an invisible object floating in
the darkness of the night.\par

Unaccountably, mysteriously the "Golden
Hind" had disappeared.\par

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CHAPTER VIII--CAST ADRIFT}

\unskip\vskip 40pt\nobreak

{\noindent}
Enrico Jaures, Spaniard on his father's
side and German on his mother's, with a
dash of almost every other Continental
nation's blood in his veins, lived or rather
existed in a mean dwelling behind the
King's Bastion, on the west side of Gibraltar.\par

Indolent, thriftless, and easy-going on
the one hand, crafty and quarrelsome on
the other, he possessed all the bad points
that characterise the criminal classes of
the two countries where his parents first
saw the light.  What he did for a living
and how he earned money was a mystery
even to his polyglot neighbours.  Yet,
without being well off, he appeared to be
always "flush" with money.\par

Contrary to the general demeanour of
the Rock Scorps, Enrico Jaures expressed
no astonishment when the "Golden Hind"
appeared over the high ground beyond
Algeciras.  He was expecting the airship,
although he had to confess to himself that
she had certainly arrived prematurely.
Evidently this was not according to plan.\par

He sat, smoked innumerable cigarettes,
and thought as deeply as a half-breed
Spaniard can.  Twice he got up, yawned,
stretched himself and ambled back to the
house to partake of a meal consisting
principally of olives, garlic, and maize.
Then back he came to his post of vantage
and sat gazing stolidly at the five hundred
feet of inflated gasbag riding easily to her
wire cable, while her crew, bringing the
airship close to the surface, were busily engaged
in pumping up petrol from a tank-lighter.\par

The shadows were lengthening considerably
when a white-robed Moor approached
the reclining Jaures--a dignified,
olive-featured man, wearing a thick black beard
and moustache.\par

"The Englishman has started," observed
the new-comer, speaking in Spanish with a
decidedly guttural accent.\par

"That I know," rejoined Enrico.\par

"But not so von Sinzig," continued the
other in a low tone, giving a furtive glance
over his shoulder.  "Until he arrives at
Massowah it is doubtful whether he will
know that this English airship is on his
heels.  Why is she here so soon?"\par

"I know not," replied Jaures.  "Two
men landed from her.  They went in the
direction of Buena Vista."\par

The pseudo Moor shrugged his shoulders.\par

"Two thousand five hundred pesetas
are awaiting you in the Banqua del Espiritu
at Algeciras, friend Enrico," he said in a low
voice.  "Prevent that airship's departure
even for twelve hours and the money will
be paid you."\par

"How can I?" asked Jaures, showing
more interest than he had hitherto
displayed.  "I cannot place a bomb on board
her, like I did on board the {\itshape{Henri Artois}}
at Barcelona."\par

"S'sh!  Not so loud," exclaimed the
other warningly.  "How you earn the
money is your affair."\par

The supposed Moor passed on, leaving
Enrico Jaures gazing thoughtfully at the
British airship.\par

He sat and pondered until the refuelling
operations were completed and the "Golden
Hind" allowed to rise a hundred feet above
the sea.  With the setting of the sun a
gentle breeze sprang up from the nor'east,
causing the hitherto almost motionless
airship to sway as she fretted at her cable.\par

He waited until darkness had settled
upon the scene, then once more made his
way into the house.  This time he did not
eat, but fortified himself with a long drink
out of an earthenware bottle.\par

Drawing his knife, he carefully oiled the
blade and replaced it in its sheath.  Then,
having selected a marline-spike from a tool
box, he slung the implement from his neck
by means of a lanyard, hiding it under
his coloured shirt.\par

These preparations completed, he walked
slowly and unconcernedly to the Old Mole.\par

By this time the water-front was almost
deserted.  A patrol marched stolidly down
the street; Enrico stepped into the shelter
of a narrow courtyard until the khaki-clad
party had disappeared; but before he could
resume he had to await the passing of a
gaitered and belted naval picquet.\par

The coast cleared, he reached the Mole.
A tramp steamer and a few feluccas were
moored alongside.  Farther out a tug was
engaged in shepherding a couple of large
lighters alongside an East-bound liner, while
changing red, white, and green lights
betokened the presence of swift-moving
steamboats in the bay.  Standing out
against the faint starlight he could discern
the "Golden Hind."  Even as he looked
a gleam of light shot through the
windows of one of the compartments, and
then another, both being almost instantly
screened.\par

"Two thousand five hundred pesetas,"
whispered Jaures to himself.  "A good
price for a little swim."\par

Without troubling to remove any of his
clothes, although he kicked off his canvas
shoes, Enrico cautiously descended a flight
of steps until his feet touched the water.
Listening to assure himself that no one was
about, he glided in as noiselessly as an eel,
and swam with slow, steady strokes under
the counter of the tramp and close to her
wall sides until he gained her bows.\par

Taking his bearings of the airship's
mooring-buoy, he resumed his easy progress
cautiously lest feathers of phosphorescent
spray should betray his presence.\par

A quarter of an hour's swim brought him
up to the mooring-buoy.  With considerable
difficulty, for the large barrel-shaped
buoy was coated with barnacles and slippery
with seaweed, Enrico contrived to draw
himself clear of the water.\par

Again he waited, listening to the sounds
emanating from the airship a hundred or
a hundred and fifty feet overhead.  The
wire hawser, acting as a conductor, enabled
him to hear with great distinctness, and
possessing a good knowledge of English
he was able to pick up scraps of conversation
between the crew.  That helped him
but little, for they were talking of matters
as remote from the topic of the great race
as the Poles.\par

Enrico Jaures next devoted his attention
to the shackle that secured the thimble
spliced in the end of the cable to the big
ring bolt of the buoy.\par

He grunted with satisfaction when he
discovered that the shackle was threaded
and not secured by a forelock, but at the
same time he found by the sense of touch
that whoever had been responsible for the
job had done his work well by securing the
pin by means of a piece of flexible wire.\par

This latter Jaures managed to cast loose,
then, with the aid of his marline-spike, he
began to unfasten the shackle-pin, pausing
occasionally as the strain on the wire rope
increased.\par

At last the deed was accomplished.  The
shackle-pin clattered upon the rounded
surface of the buoy and rebounded into
the water; but almost simultaneously
Enrico Jaures found himself being whisked
aloft.  A snap-hook at the end of a wire
had caught in his belt, and there he was,
suspended ignominiously like a horse being
slung on board a ship, already a hundred
feet or more above the surface of the sea.\par

His first impulse was to cut loose his
belt and drop, but a downward glance at
the dark unfathomable void made him
abruptly change his mind.\par

His sole thought was now that of
self-preservation.  Fearful lest his leather belt
should break and send him hurtling through
space he clung desperately to the wire.\par

Fax below him the lights of Gibraltar
seemed to be gliding past as the freed
airship drifted towards the strait separating
Europe from the African shore.\par

It was bitterly cold aloft.  The keenness
of the rarefied air was intensified by the fact
that his clothes were saturated with salt
water.  A numbing pain crept down both
arms.  His muscles seemed to be cracking
under the strain, while his fingers closed
round the wire until the nails sunk deep
into his palms.\par

He shouted for help--his voice sounding
more like the yelp of a jackal than that of a
human being.  But no response came from
the airship a hundred feet above him.\par

"Dios!" he exclaimed in agony.  "This
is indeed the end."\par

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CHAPTER IX--THE ESCAPADE OF ENRICO JAURES}

\unskip\vskip 40pt\nobreak

{\noindent}
"What are those blighters doing?"
soliloquised Kenyon for the twentieth time.
"Are they buying the place, or are they
poodle-faking?  They ought to have been
back hours ago."\par

It was well after sunset.  The "Golden
Hind" had taken in stores and provisions,
and had replenished her fuel and oil tanks.
An anchor watch had been set, and having
"gone the rounds" in order to satisfy
himself that everything was in order
Kenneth Kenyon had gone to his cabin to
write letters that would be sent ashore when
the picket-boat brought off the skipper and
Bramsdean.\par

A shrill blast of the voice-tube whistle
made Kenyon hasten across the long narrow
cabin.  There was something insistent about
the summons.  It was not the discreet
apologetic trill that the look-out man gave
when he wished to report some trivial
incident to the officer of the watch.\par

"Hello!" replied Kenyon.\par

"We're adrift, sir," announced the man, excitedly.\par

Telling the look-out to call the
duty-watch, Kenyon replaced the whistle in the
mouth of the voice-tube, struggled into his
leather, fur-lined coat, and hurried to the
navigation-room.  As he passed the various
motor-rooms he noticed that the
air-mechanics of the duty-watch were already
at their posts awaiting the order to get the
engines running.\par

Throwing open one of the windows,
Kenyon looked out into the night.  There
was no staggering, biting wind.  Drifting
with the breeze, the airship was apparently
motionless save for a gently-undulating
movement, but the merest glance served
to corroborate the look-out man's words.
Already the "Golden Hind," having risen
to 6000 feet and still climbing, was well to
the south'ard of Europa Point.  He could
see the lighthouse on the south-western
point of the peninsula of Gibraltar steadily
receding as the airship approached the
African coast.\par

Kenyon was on the point of telegraphing
for half-speed ahead when he bethought
him of the cable.  More than likely, he
decided, the wire rope had parted half-way
between the nose of the fuselage and the
buoy.  There was danger in the comparatively
light, springy wire getting foul of the
for'ard propellers.  Stranded wire is apt
to play hanky-panky tricks.\par

"Get the cable inboard," he ordered.
"Don't use the winch or you won't get the
wire to lie evenly on the reel.  Haul it in
by hand."\par

Two of the crew descended to the bow
compartment, which, besides forming a
living-room for the men, contained the
cable winch.\par

"'Get it in by 'and,' 'e said," remarked
one of the men to his companion.  "Blimey!
There ain't 'arf a strain on the blessed
thing.  Bear a 'and, chum."\par

Presently one of the men returned to the
navigation-room.\par

"Pardon, sir," he said, saluting, "but
we can't haul the wire in.  It's foul of
something.  Shall we bring it to the winch, sir?"\par

"Foul of something, eh?" echoed
Kenyon.  "Does that mean we've hiked
up the blessed mooring-buoy?  Switch on
the bow searchlight, Jackson."\par

The order was promptly obeyed, and the
rays of the 10,000 candle-power lamp were
directed vertically downwards.\par

Leaning well out of the open window,
Kenyon peered along the glistening length
of tautened cable until parting from the
converging rays of the searchlight it
vanished into space.\par

"Two degrees left," ordered Kenneth.
"Good--at that.  By Jove!  What's that?  A man!"\par

Filled with a haunting suspicion that
the suspended body might be that of his
chum Peter, Kenyon felt his heart jump
into his throat; but a second glance, as the
motionless figure slowly revolved at the end
of the cable, relieved Kenneth's mind on
that, score.  Still, it was a human being in
dire peril.\par

"Heave away handsomely," continued
Kenyon.  "Stand by to avast heaving," he added.\par

The orders were communicated to the
hands at the cable-winch.  Steadily the
winch-motor clanked away until the word
was passed to "'vast heaving."  The
luckless individual at the end of the wire was
now dangling thirty feet below the bows
of the fuselage.\par

It would have been useless to have hauled
him up to the hawse-pipe, because there
would be no means of getting him on board.
The only practical way to reach him was by
lowering a rope from a trap-door on the
underside of the chassis midway between
the two hawse-pipes in the bows.\par

Meanwhile Kenyon was deftly making
"bowlines on the bight" at the extremities
of two three-inch manilla ropes.\par

"Jackson," he said, addressing the
leading hand of the duty-watch, "I'm going
after that chap.  Tell off a couple of men
to attend to each of the ropes.  If I make
a mess of things and don't get back, keep
the ship head to wind till daylight, and then
make for our former mooring.  There'll be
plenty of help available."\par

Adjusting one of the loops under his
arms and another round his legs above his
knees, Kenneth slipped through the narrow
trap-hatch, taking the second rope with
him.  It was a weird sensation
dangling in space with about 8000 feet of
empty air between him and land or sea,
for by this time the "Golden Hind" was
probably over the African coast.  But
soon the eerie feeling passed and Kenneth,
courageous, cool-headed and accustomed to
dizzy heights, had no thought but for the
work in hand.\par

"At that!" he shouted, when he found
himself on the same level with the man he
hoped to rescue.  "Take a turn."\par

Ten feet from him was the unconscious
Enrico Jaures.  The question now was,
how was that intervening space to be bridged?\par

Kenyon began to sway his legs after the
manner of a child on a swing.\par

"If the rope parts, then it's a case of
'going west' with a vengeance," he
soliloquised grimly.  "Christopher!  Isn't it
beastly cold?"\par

Momentarily the pendulum-like movement
increased until Kenneth was able to
grip the arm of the unconscious man.  As
he did so Enrico's belt, that had hitherto
prevented him from dropping into
space, parted like pack-thread.\par

With a jerk that nearly wrenched the
rescuer's arms from their sockets, the
deadweight of the Scorp almost capsized Kenyon
out of the bow-line.  As it was, he was
hanging with his head lower than his feet,
holding on with a grip of iron to Jaures'
arms.  Thus hampered, he realised that it
was manifestly impossible to make use of
the second bow-line.\par

"Haul up!" he shouted breathlessly.\par

"Heavens!" he added.  "Can I do it?
Can I hold on long enough?"\par

It was a question that required some
answering.  The strain on his muscles,
coupled with the effect of the unexpected
jerk, the numbing cold, and, lastly, his own
position, as he hung practically head
downwards, all told against him.  Even in those
moments of peril he found himself thinking
he must present a ludicrous sight to
the watchers in the airship in the dazzling
glare of the searchlight.\par

"Stick it another half a minute, sir,"
shouted a voice.  "I'll be with you in a
brace of shakes."\par

Of what happened during the next thirty
long drawn out seconds Kenyon had only
a hazy recollection.  He was conscious of
someone bawling in his ear, "Let go, sir;
I've got him all right."\par

Kenneth obeyed mechanically.  In any
case he was on the point of relaxing his
grip through sheer inability on the part
of his muscles to respond to his will.  The
sudden release of the man he had rescued
resulted in Kenyon regaining a normal
position, and dizzy and utterly exhausted
he was hauled into safety.\par

Someone gave him brandy.  The strong
spirit revived him considerably.\par

"Where's the fellow?" he asked.\par

"Safe, sir," replied Jackson.  "Shall I
carry on?"\par

"Yes, please," said Kenneth, faintly, and
with the clang of the telegraph indicator
bells and the rhythmic purr of the motors
borne to his ears he became unconscious.\par

Meanwhile Enrico Jaures, to all outward
appearances a corpse, had been hauled on
board.  One of the crew, observing
Kenneth's plight, had descended by means
of another rope, and had deftly hitched
the end round the Scorp's body, climbing
back hand over hand as unconcernedly as
if he had been walking upstairs in his
cottage in far-off Aberdeen.\par

"Like handling frozen mutton,"
commented one of the crew as they attended
to the rescued Jaures.  "Fine specimen,
ain't he?  An' what's he doing with that
there marline-spike, I should like to know.
'Tain't all jonnick, if you ask me."\par

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CHAPTER X--UNDER EXAMINATION}

\unskip\vskip 40pt\nobreak

{\noindent}
"I'm all right, I tell you.  Hang it all,
can't a fellow know when he's all right?"\par

Thus Kenyon rather resentfully resisted
all efforts on the part of the men to keep
him in his bunk.  He came from an
indomitable stock that never readily admits
defeat, and on this occasion he
steadfastly refused to recognise the fact that
his physical strength had been well-nigh sapped.\par

Donning his leather coat, he made his
way to the navigation-room, staggering
slightly as he passed along the narrow alley-way.\par

"Wireless message just received, sir,"
reported Jackson.  "'From T.B.D. {\itshape{Zeebrugge}}
to 'Golden Hind.'  Am proceeding
in search of you.  Show position lights.
Will tranship Sir Reginald Fosterdyke and
Mr. Bramsdean as soon as possible.  Make
necessary arrangements.'  We're steering
N. by W. ¼ W., but we haven't sighted
the destroyer yet."\par

"Very good," concurred Kenyon.  "Carry on."\par

He consulted the altimeter and the speed
indicator.  The former showed that the
airship had descended to two thousand
feet, and the speed was two thousand
revolutions, or approximately thirty miles
an hour.  The "Golden Hind" had by
this time retraced a good portion of her
drift, and was now three or four miles from Ceuta.\par

Ten minutes later a masthead flashing
lamp was seen blinking at a distance of
about six miles.  The light came from the
destroyer {\itshape{Zeebrugge}}, which, pelting along
at twenty-five knots, was on the lookout
for the errant airship.\par

Kenneth Kenyon was now on his mettle.
For the first time he was in command of a
large airship about to make a descent.  As
officer of the watch he had already had
opportunities of observing the handling of
the huge vessel, but now he found himself
confronted with the problem of bringing
her close to the surface of the sea so as
to enable the destroyer to manoeuvre
sufficiently enough to establish direct
communication.\par

"Hope I don't make a bog of it," he
soliloquised.  "I must admit I feel a bit
rotten after that little jamboree just now.
Still, I'll stick it."\par

Although he was not aware of the fact,
Leading Hand Jackson was keeping a sharp
eye on his superior officer, ready at the
first sign to "take on" should Kenyon's
physical strength fail him.\par

For the next ten minutes the greatest
activity prevailed.  Gongs were clanging,
crisp orders were issued through various
voice-tubes, gas was being withdrawn from
various ballonets, the motors were
constantly being either accelerated or retarded
according to the conditions demanded.
The white flashing lamp signals were being
exchanged with the T.B.D., which had
now circled sixteen degrees to starboard
and was steaming slowly dead in the eye
of the wind.\par

In the floor of the bow compartment of
the "Golden Hind" the large trap-hatch
had been opened.  Close by crouched men
ready to lower away a wire rope, at the end
of which a small electric bulb glowed to
enable the destroyer's crew to locate the
line in the dark.  Throughout the
manoeuvre neither the "Golden Hind" nor
the {\itshape{Zeebrugge}} made use of their searchlights,
since the dazzling rays might baffle
the respective helmsmen and result in a collision.\par

Slowly and gracefully the airship dropped
until her fuselage was thirty feet from the
surface of the sea.  She was now dead in
the wake of the destroyer, and the task
that confronted Kenyon was to bring her
ahead sufficiently for the bows to overlap
the {\itshape{Zeebrugge's}} stern.  An error of judgment
at that low height would result in the
airship's bows fouling the destroyer's mast.\par

Foot by foot the "Golden Hind" gained
upon the destroyer until a shout from the
latter's deck announced that the wire rope
had been made fast.\par

Instantly the airship's six motors were
declutched.  She was now moving merely
under the towing action of the {\itshape{Zeebrugge}},
which was forging ahead at a bare four knots.\par

From the trap-hatch in the airship's
bows a rope-ladder was lowered, its end
being held by a couple of bluejackets on
the T.B.D.  Without loss of time Fosterdyke
swarmed up the swaying ladder, and
was followed by Bramsdean.\par

"Cast off, and thank you!" shouted the baronet.\par

"All gone," came an answering voice
from the {\itshape{Zeebrugge}}, followed by a hearty
"Best of luck to you!"\par

Released, the "Golden Hind" leapt a
full five hundred feet into the air before
the propellers began to revolve.\par

"Cheerio, Kenyon!" exclaimed Fosterdyke,
as he joined Kenneth in the
navigation-room.  "All's well that ends well,
but you gave me a pretty bad turn.  What
happened?"\par

"Hardly know, sir," replied Kenyon.
"Our wire rope didn't part.  Possibly the
shackle on the buoy gave.  But we found
a man hanging on the end of the wire."\par

"You did, eh?" exclaimed the baronet,
sharply.  "What sort of man?"\par

"You'll see him, sir," replied Kenneth.
"He's laid out below."\par

"H'm!" ejaculated Fosterdyke, and
relapsed into silence.\par

He was deep in thought for some
moments, then turned to Kenyon again.\par

"We're making an official start in a
few minutes' time," he announced.  "We
have to pass over the Rock and display
three red and three white lights to the
official observer on Signal Hill.  When we
see a similar signal made from the Rock
that will be the actual starting time.  Pass
the word for Jackson to get the lamps in
position."\par

At an altitude of three thousand feet, or
fifteen hundred feet above the summit of
the Rock of Gibraltar, the "Golden
Hind" received her official send-off at
3.35 A.M., eighteen hours after the Hun-owned Z64.\par

Evidently there was not a minute to be
wasted.  The contest had developed not
merely into a voyage round the world
within the space of twenty days, but a
race in which the British competitor had
to make good her formidable handicap of
eighteen hours or approximately three
thousand five hundred miles.\par

With the wind abeam on the port side
the "Golden Hind" opened out to one
hundred and forty miles an hour.  During
the earlier stages of the race Fosterdyke
rather wisely decided to keep below the
maximum speed, rather than overtax the
motors by running "all out."  Within a
few minutes of receiving her official
permit to depart the airship lost sight of
the lights upon the Rock of Gibraltar.
She was now steering E. by S.--a course
that would take her over the northern
part of Algeria and Tunis and within a
few miles of Malta.\par

At 4 A.M. Kenyon, who had modestly
refrained from giving any details of the
part he had taken in the rescue of Enrico
Jaures, and had concealed the fact that he
had been temporarily out of action, was
relieved by Peter Bramsdean.\par

As he turned to go to his cabin Kenneth
saw that the baronet was standing in a
corner of the navigation-room and studying
a nautical almanac.\par

"Sleep well, Kenyon," exclaimed Fosterdyke.
"You've some arrears to make up."\par

"Rather, sir," agreed Kenyon.  "But
we've forgotten something."\par

"Eh, what?"\par

"That fellow we found hanging on to
the wire rope, we didn't put him on board
the destroyer."\par

"No," agreed Fosterdyke, grimly.  "We
didn't.  I saw to that.  Unless I'm much
mistaken our unwanted supernumerary
can and must give us certain information
that will rather astonish us.  I'll see him
later on, by Jove!"\par

Kenyon nodded knowingly.  Evidently
Fosterdyke had learnt something.  However,
as far as he, Kenyon, was concerned,
other things of a more pressing nature
demanded his attention--food and sleep.\par

At eight o'clock Fosterdyke ordered his
involuntary guest to be brought before him.\par

"There's something fishy about the
breaking adrift business," he observed to
Bramsdean as the two sat at a table in the
after-cabin awaiting Enrico's appearance.\par

"Where's Jackson?  We'll want him.
No, don't disturb Kenyon; he had a
pretty sticky time."\par

"More than you imagine, sir," added
Peter, and proceeded to tell the baronet
the part Kenneth had played in the aerial
rescue of the imperilled Rock Scorpion.\par

"Kenyon didn't say a word about it,"
he added on the conclusion of the narrative.
"He was as mute as an oyster over it
all.  Frampton and Collings told me.  It
was----"\par

A knock on the cabin door interrupted
Bramsdean's explanation.\par

"Come in!" exclaimed Fosterdyke.\par

In answer to the invitation entered
Leading Hand Jackson, followed in single
file by one of the crew, Enrico Jaures, and
two other members of the "Golden Hind's" company.\par

The Scorp was still labouring under the
effects of his narrow escape.  He looked,
to quote Bramsdean's words, "as if the
stuffing had been knocked out of him."\par

Fosterdyke's handling of the situation
was a bold one.  Without any preliminaries,
without even asking the fellow's name,
he demanded sternly:\par

"How much did Count Karl von Sinzig
promise you for last night's work?"\par

Jaures gave an involuntary start, but
almost immediately relapsed into his
imperturbably passive attitude.  Then with a
slight shrug of his shoulders he replied:\par

"Me no spik Englis."\par

"Try again," said Fosterdyke,
contracting his bushy eyebrows and looking
straight at the man.  "All I can say is
that if you don't speak English it's a case
of won't, not can't."\par

"Me no spik Englis," reiterated Jaures.\par

Without speaking, Fosterdyke looked
straight at the fellow for a full thirty
seconds.  During that period Enrico
attempted three times to meet the searching
gaze of his inquisitor.\par

"Now!" exclaimed the baronet at length.\par

Enrico Jaures maintained silence.\par

Fosterdyke slowly and deliberately
unstrapped his wristlet watch and placed it
on the table.\par

"I give you thirty seconds," he said in
level tones.  "Thirty seconds in which to
make up your mind either to answer or
refuse to answer my question.  Might I
remind you that we are now eight thousand
feet above the sea, and it is a long drop.
Jackson, will you please remove that hatch?"\par

"Of course the Old Man was only kiddin',"
remarked Jackson when he related what
had transpired to his companions after the
affair was over; "but, bless me, even I
thought he meant to do the dirty sweep in.
He looked that stern, that it put the wind
up the bloke straight away."\par

Absolutely disciplined, the Leading Hand
obeyed orders promptly.  Throwing back
the aluminium cover in the centre of the
cabin floor, he revealed to the gaze of the
thoroughly terrified Jaures a rectangular
opening six feet by four.  Far below,
glittering in the sunshine, was the blue
Mediterranean.\par

"Five seconds more!" announced
Fosterdyke, calmly.\par

Of the occupants of the after cabin
Enrico Jaures now seemed to be the least
interested in the proceedings.  His furtive
glances had given place to an expression of
lofty detachment, as if he were utterly
bored by the whole transaction.  Bramsdean
found himself deciding that either
the fellow was an imbecile or else he was a
past master in the art of dissimulation.\par

"Time!" declared Fosterdyke.\par

Enrico Jaures positively beamed.\par

"Me no spik Englis," he babbled.\par

Sir Reginald eyed the accused sternly,
but even his piercing glance seemed of no
avail.  The Rock Scorp continued to smile inanely.\par

"Take him away," ordered Fosterdyke
with asperity.\par

He waited till the door had closed upon
the involuntary guest, and then gave a
deprecatory shrug.\par

"The fellow's scored this time, Bramsdean,"
he remarked, "but I'll get to windward
of him yet."\par

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CHAPTER XI--"WITH INTENT"}

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{\noindent}
"Where are we now?" enquired Kenyon
on returning to the navigation-room to
relieve his chum as officer of the watch.\par

It was now twelve o'clock.  Bramsdean
had just "shot the sun" and was reading
off the degrees, minutes, and seconds from
the arc of the sextant.\par

"Almost over Algiers, old thing," he
replied, pointing to the glaring, sun-baked
Algerian coast.  "Hark!"\par

He held up his hand and inclined his
head sideways.  Above the bass hum of
the aerial propellers came the distant
report of a gun.\par

"Reminds a fellow of old times when
the Archies got busy," remarked Kenyon.\par

"Our friends the French are evidently
treating us to a salute to help us on our
weary way," rejoined Peter.  "Goodness
only knows how we are to return it.  We
can't give gun for gun."\par

He focussed his glasses on the white
buildings three thousand feet below.  The
whole of the water-front of Algiers was
packed with figures with upturned faces--Frenchmen,
Algerines, Arabs, and Nubians--all
frantically waving to the huge airship as
she sped eastwards.\par

In ten minutes the "Golden Hind" had
left the capital of France's African
possessions far astern.  Unless anything
untoward occurred, another four hours would
bring her within sight of Malta.\par

"You might cast your eye over the
signal log-book before you take on,"
remarked Bramsdean.\par

Kenyon did so.  Evidently the wireless
operator had been kept busily employed,
for there were dozens of messages wishing
the "Golden Hind" bon voyage.  But
amongst them were two of a different
nature.  One announced that an American
airship "Eagle," under the command of
Commodore Theodore Nye, had left Tampa
Town bound for Colon, followed by a
supplementary message that the "Eagle"
had left the Panama Canal zone and was
last sighted flying in a westerly direction.
Making allowance for the difference in New
York and Greenwich times, both the
"Golden Hind" and her Yankee rival had
started practically simultaneously from
their respective points of departure for
the actual race.\par

The second wireless message,
transmitted via Vancouver, Newfoundland, and
Poldu, was to the effect that the "Banzai,"
the Japanese quadruplane piloted by Count
Hyashi, had started from Nagasaki at a
speed estimated at two hundred and twenty
miles an hour.\par

"Artful blighter, that Jap," declared
Bramsdean.  "He's kept his design
carefully up his sleeve till the last moment.
We thought he was attempting the flight in
an airship, but he's pinned his faith to a
gigantic quadruplane."\par

"Two hundred and twenty miles an
hour, too," added Kenyon.  "That means
he'll do the whole trip in less than 120
hours of actual flying, unless something
goes wrong with his 'bus.  My word, some speed!"\par

"What I'd like to know is his petrol
consumption, and how much juice does
his 'bus carry," remarked Bramsdean,
thoughtfully.  "By Jove!  We're up
against something, old son."\par

"By the by, I see there's no news of
Fritz," said Kenneth.\par

"Not a word," replied Peter.  "Von
Sinzig evidently thinks that it's too early
to start bragging.  We'll hear either from
or of him before night.  Fosterdyke is
trying to call him up by wireless and tell
him that he has a friend of his on board."\par

"Oh, that greasy merchant!" rejoined
Kenneth.  "How did he get on?"\par

"Played 'possum," answered Bramsdean.
"Fosterdyke tried to put the wind up him,
but it was a frost.  I'd like to know what
he did to the shackle on the mooring-buoy."\par

"You think he cast us adrift?"\par

"Without a doubt, old bird."\par

Kenyon shook his head doubtfully.\par

"He might have been simply fishing when
the pin drew and he got whisked aloft,"
he suggested.  "Did he give his name or
any particulars?"\par

"Not he," replied Peter.  "In fact
he wasn't asked.  Fosterdyke went for him
bald-headed and tried to make him admit
that he was in von Sinzig's pay.  But
nothin' doin', even when we made out that
we were going to drop him overboard.  Well,
cheerio, old thing."\par

Left in charge of the airship, Kenyon
pondered over the problem of whether the
man he had rescued had really been a secret
agent of von Sinzig or otherwise.  If he
were, then it would be almost a foregone
conclusion that he spoke German.\par

Kenneth had plenty of time for reflection
during his "trick."  The "Golden Hind"
was making good progress.  There was
little or no wind, and her drift was in
consequence almost imperceptible; while the
temperature was so constant that there
was no necessity to alter the volume of
brodium in the ballonets for hours at a
stretch.  The motors, too, ran like
clockwork, and beyond attending to the
semi-automatic lubricators occasionally, the
air-mechanics on duty had little to do.
Fosterdyke, having paid a brief visit to
the navigating room, retired to his cabin
to make up arrears of sleep.\par

"Might work," soliloquised Kenneth,
reflectively.  "I'll tackle Fosterdyke about
it next time I come across him."\par

At four in the afternoon Malta was passed
at a distance of ten miles to the south'ard.
The "Golden Hind" was doing well,
maintaining more than her normal cruising
speed.  If she were able to keep on at that
rate she would accomplish the voyage of
circumnavigation well under the twenty
days; but that was now but a secondary
consideration.  At all costs von Sinzig's
Z64 must be overhauled.\par

The "Golden Hind's" first stop was at
Alexandria, sixteen hours after leaving
Gibraltar.  She made a faultless landing on
sandy spit that separates Lake Mareotis
from the Mediterranean.  The time of her
arrival had been notified by wireless, and all
preparations had been made for her
reception.  Keenly interested Tommies manned
the trail ropes and secured her firmly to
anchors buried in the sand; lorries laden
with petrol and oil were rushed to the spot,
and the work of refuelling began without
delay.  While Fosterdyke and Kenyon were
signing the "control certificate" and
holding an informal reception of almost the
whole of the British Colony at Alexandria,
Bramsdean remained in charge of the airship.\par

In order to keep back the dense crowd,
composed of fellaheen, Copts, Arabs,
Syrians, and representatives of every nation
bordering on the Mediterranean, strong
picquets of British troops were posted
round the tethered airship, no unauthorised
person being permitted to approach within
a hundred yards of the "Golden Hind";
while to enable the work of refuelling to
proceed as rapidly as possible, the
improvised aerodrome was brilliantly
illuminated by portable searchlights mounted
on motor lorries.\par

It seemed as if it would be impossible for
any suspicious characters to approach the
airship without being detected.  Having
once been "bitten," Fosterdyke was not
taking chances in that direction.\par

No attempt had been made to get rid
of Enrico Jaures.  Closely watched by a
couple of the crew, he was even permitted to
view the proceedings from an open scuttle
in one of the compartments on the starboard side.\par

When everything was in readiness to
resume the voyage, Fosterdyke and Kenyon
shook hands with their entertainers and
crossed the guarded square.  As they
approached the entry port on the starboard
side a dark figure suddenly appeared from
behind an unattended lorry, and at a
distance of ten paces fired half a dozen
shots in rapid succession straight at the baronet.\par

Almost at the first report Fosterdyke
threw himself at full length upon the sand.
Kenyon, without hesitation, rushed upon
the would-be assassin, while two of the crew,
leaping from the fuselage, promptly seized
the miscreant and deprived him of his
automatic pistol.\par

"Hurt, sir?" asked Kenyon, anxiously.\par

"Not a bit of it," replied Sir Reginald
coolly.  "That fellow couldn't hit a
haystack at five yards.  Bring him along, men."\par

An agitated member of the Egyptian
Civil Service, accompanied by a couple of
staff officers, hurried up, and after making
inquiries and learning that Fosterdyke was
unhurt, suggested, not without good reason,
that the would-be assassin should be handed
over to the civil powers for trial.\par

The baronet airily swept aside the suggestion.\par

"Sorry, Vansittart," he said; "but I'm
not going to waste precious time appearing
as a prosecutor in this business.  No, I'm
not exactly professing to take the law into
my own hands, but I propose taking the
gentleman with me.  If he tried to shoot
me, surely I can jolly well kidnap him.
'Tany rate, possession's nine points of the
law.  When I've done with him you can
deal with him."\par

"But, dash it all, man!" exclaimed one
of the staff officers; "you aren't going
to--to----"\par

"Hang him?  Not much," declared the
baronet.  "Return good for evil sort of
thing, you know.  Don't get flustered,
Vansittart.  He's mine, and we're just off."\par

Happening to glance up as he entered the
fuselage, Fosterdyke caught sight of Enrico
Jaures, who had seen the whole incident
through one of the windows.\par

"Birds of a feather," he soliloquised.
"However, I don't suppose we'll pick up
pals of this sort at every place we touch.
All ready, Kenyon?" he enquired, raising
his voice.  "Right-o; let go."\par

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CHAPTER XII--CONFIDENCES}

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{\noindent}
In one of the store-rooms, the contents of
which had been removed in order to adapt
the place to present requirements, sat Enrico
Jaures and the would-be assassin.  They
were under lock and key and had been
unceremoniously bundled into durance vile
without the formality of an introduction.\par

Enrico was feeling fairly content, in spite
of being a prisoner.  After all, he reflected,
nothing had been proved against him.  He
had scored in his encounter with the
captain and owner of the British airship,
and, all things considered, he was being
well treated.\par

He made no remark when his new
companion was gently but firmly propelled
through the doorway.  The newcomer was
equally reticent; so the ill-assorted
pair--one rigged out in the nondescript garments
of a low-class inhabitant of Gibraltar and
the other in European clothes and a
tarboosh--sat in opposite corners of the
limited space.\par

For the best part of an hour neither spoke.
Occasionally they regarded each other
furtively.  Then the gentleman who had
demonstrated so effectively how not to
shoot straight began to slumber.  Sitting
on his haunches with his arms clasped
round his bent knees, he nodded his crimson
tarboosh until his head found a rather
uncomfortable resting-place on his clasped hands.\par

Then in his somnolent condition he began
muttering his wandering sentences,
punctuated with many "Achs!"\par

Enrico listened intently.  Hitherto he
had been in ignorance of the motive that
had prompted the would-be murderer.
Now he had enough evidence to form the
conclusion that they both had a motive
in common--to wreck the attempt of the
British competitor to win the Chauvasse Prize.\par

Nevertheless Jaures was of a cautious
disposition, and when his companion
awoke he still maintained his attitude of
aloofness.\par

Breakfast time came.  One of the
"Golden Hind's" crew appeared with
quite a substantial meal, and both men
were hungry.  The pure, cold air, a striking
contrast to the hot, enervating atmosphere
of Alexandria, had given them an enormous
appetite, and the fact that they had to
share their meals and were not provided
with knives and forks did not trouble them.\par

"Pass the salt," said Enrico's companion,
speaking in German.\par

Jaures complied without hesitation.  The
request was so natural that it took him
completely off his guard.\par

"So you do speak German," remarked
the wearer of the tarboosh.\par

Enrico shook his head.\par

"Come, come," continued the other.
"Do not say that you cannot.  I asked
you for the salt.  I was not looking at it,
so that you have no excuse."\par

Jaures swallowed a big chunk of bread
and stole cautiously to the door.  For a
few seconds he listened lest there should
be anyone eavesdropping without.\par

"Yes," he admitted.  "My mother was
German.  But don't speak so loudly."\par

"From what town came she?" enquired
his companion.\par

"From Lubeck," he replied.\par

"And I come from Immeristadt.  I am
a Swabian and my name is Otto Freising,"
announced the German.  "What are you
doing here?"\par

"I am not here of my own free will,"
said Jaures, guardedly.  He was rather
inclined to shut up like an oyster, but his
semi-compatriot was persistent.\par

"I suppose these Englishmen will hang
me," remarked Otto.  "My one regret
is that I did not succeed in my attempt."\par

"What attempt?" asked Enrico, innocently.
As a matter of fact he knew, having
watched the shooting affray.\par

Otto told him.\par

"The trouble is," he added, "I've been
paid for this business.  Ten thousand
Egyptian piastres.  I have a banker's
order for that amount in my pocket.  Will
they search me?"\par

"Without a doubt," replied Enrico,
whose knowledge of British criminal courts
was of a first-hand order.  "But in a
way you are lucky.  You were paid--I
was not.  I succeeded--you failed."\par

The German raised his eyebrows, but
forbore to elicit further information
concerning Jaures' motives.\par

"My difficulty," resumed Otto, "is what
I am to do with this banker's order.  I
undertook the business because I was
hard up, and should I be hanged or even
imprisoned my family will not benefit
because the money will be confiscated."\par

He paused.  Enrico eyed him thoughtfully.
He would willingly rob anybody.
Now was a chance of enriching himself
at the expense of his semi-compatriot.\par

"These English cannot keep me in
captivity much longer," he observed.
"They can prove nothing against me.
When I regain my liberty I propose
paying a visit to my mother's relations in
Lubeck.  Perhaps I might be able to render
you a service by handing that draft to
your relatives."\par

Otto showed no great eagerness to close
with the offer.  His hesitation increased
his companion's cupidity.\par

"Rest assured that the money will
eventually reach a safe destination," he
urged enigmatically.  "Better even to run
the risk of its being lost than to let it
fall into the hands of these Englishmen."\par

"That is so," agreed Otto.  "At any
rate I can entrust it in your keeping for
the next few days until I know what they
propose doing with me.  You will, of
course, be paid well for your trouble."\par

Enrico waved his hands deprecatingly,
swearing by his patron Saint Enrico of
Guadalajara that it would be a pleasure
and a duty to assist a German in distress.\par

"Very well, then," agreed Otto,
producing a paper from the double crown
of his tarboosh.\par

The Rock Scorp, craftily concealing his
delight at the success of his plan, took the
document and glanced at the amount
written thereon.  As he did so he uttered
an exclamation.\par

"Dios!" he ejaculated.\par

"What is it?" enquired Otto.\par

"The signature--Hans von Effrich.  I
know the man.  He was at Barcelona when
the U-boats were busy.  I helped him to--"\par

He broke off abruptly, realising, perhaps,
that there were limits to an exchange of
confidences.\par

"Von Effrich--I have never met him,"
declared Otto.  "All I know is that he is
now an agent for Count Karl von Sinzig."\par

"Where is he now?" enquired Jaures.\par

"Who?--von Sinzig or von Effrich?"\par

"Von Effrich."\par

"He is usually to be found in Corinth,"
replied Otto.  "Why do you ask?"\par

"Because he might also pay me what
von Sinzig owes me," replied Enrico.  "We
apparently are engaged on similar tasks."\par

"To cripple or delay this airship," added
Otto.  "Up to the present we have not
made much of a success of it.  My prospects
are not at all bright, but my one hope is
that when we arrive at Singapore von
Blicker will be there.  A clever fellow,
von Blicker.  I met him at von Effrich's
house just before I left Corinth for
Alexandria--a month ago."\par

"What is he going to do?" asked Enrico.\par

"I believe he'll----  S'sh! someone coming."\par

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CHAPTER XIII--THE TAIL OF A CYCLONE}

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{\noindent}
"Hanged if I like the look of things one
little bit," declared Fosterdyke, frankly.
"Glass dropping as quickly as if the bottom
of it had fallen out, and on top of it all we get this."\par

"This" was a wireless from Point de
Galle announcing that a terrific cyclone
was raging west of the Maldive Islands, its
path being a "right-hand circle."  That
meant that unless the "Golden Hind"
made a radical alteration of course she
would encounter the full force of the wind.\par

It was the fourth day of the race.  The
"Golden Hind" had passed over Socotra
at daybreak and was on her way across the
Arabian Sea, her next scheduled
landing-place being Colombo.\par

"If we carry on we'll hit the tail of the
cyclone," said Kenyon, consulting a chart
of the Indian Ocean.\par

"Yes, but what is worse we'd pass
through the dangerous storm-centre, and
then more than likely get a nose-ender on
the other side, if we were lucky enough to
weather the centre," replied Fosterdyke.
"It's too jolly risky, Kenyon.  At fifteen
thousand feet it may be as bad or worse
than at five hundred feet up.  Call up
Murgatroyd, and ask what petrol there
is in the tanks."\par

Kenneth went to the voice tube and made
the necessary enquiry of the engineer.\par

"By Jove, we'll risk it!" declared
Fosterdyke, when he received the desired
information.  "We'll go south a bit, and
then make straight for Fremantle."\par

Kenyon was taken aback with the
audacity of the proposal.  The distance
between Socotra and Western Australia was
a good 5000 miles, or thirty-six hours of
uninterrupted flight.  At 140 miles an hour
there was sufficient fuel on board for forty
hours, which meant a reserve of four hours
only in case of anything occurring to
protract the run.\par

"Oh, we'll do it," said Fosterdyke,
confidently, as he noticed his companion's
look of blank amazement.  "Better run
the risk of cutting things fine than to barge
into a cyclone.  Sou'-east by south is the
course."\par

"Remarkable thing we haven't heard
anything of friend Sinzig 'clocking in,'"
observed Kenyon.  "Wonder where he's
making for?"\par

"We'll hear in due course," replied the
baronet.  He crossed the cabin to
consult a Mercator's chart of the world, on
which were pinned British, American, and
Japanese flags recording the latest-known
positions of the rival airmen.  There was
a German flag ready to be stuck in, but
nearly five days had elapsed since von
Sinzig left Spain, and the crew of the
"Golden Hind" were still in ignorance
of his whereabouts.\par

But they had the satisfaction of knowing
that they more than held their own with
the others.  The American had passed the
Azores, while Count Hyashi's "Banzai,"
which had made a stupendous non-stop
flight to Honolulu, had developed engine
defects that promised to detain him indefinitely.\par

"Two thousand miles in nine hours,"
remarked Fosterdyke, referring to the
Japanese airplane's performance.  "Some
shifting that, but Count Hyashi has
evidently gone the pace a bit too thick.  He's
our most dangerous rival, Kenyon."\par

"Unless von Sinzig has something up
his sleeve, sir," added Kenneth.\par

"Trust him for that," said the baronet,
grimly.  "However, time will prove.
Well, carry on, Kenyon.  Call me if there's
any great change in the weather."\par

Within the next two hours there were
indications that even the new course taken
by the "Golden Hind" would not allow
her to escape the cyclone.  Right ahead
the hitherto cloudless sky was heavy with
dark, ragged thunder-clouds that,
extending north and south as far as the eye
could see, threatened to close upon the
airship like the horns of a Zulu impi.\par

Roused from his sleep, Fosterdyke lost
no time in making his way to the
navigation-room.  Although he was not to be
on duty for another hour and a half, Peter
Bramsdean had also hurried to the chart-room.\par

"We're in for it, sir," declared Kenneth.\par

"We are," agreed Fosterdyke, gravely.
"Evidently there is a second disturbance,
but judging from appearances it's none
the less formidable.  No use turning tail.
We'll go up another five thousand feet and
see what it looks like."\par

The "Golden Hind" rose rapidly, under
the joint action of her six planes and the
addition of brodium to the ballonets; but
even then it was touch-and-go whether the
gathering storm would encircle her.  As
it was she flew within the influence of the
fringe of the cyclone.  Shrieking winds
assailed her, seeming to come from two
opposing quarters.  Her huge bulk lurched
and staggered as she climbed.  Her
fuselage see-sawed as the blast struck the
enormous envelope above, while the jar
upon the tension wires was plainly felt by the crew.\par

For a full ten minutes it was as black as
night, save when the dark masses of cloud
were riven by vivid flashes of lightning.
Blinded by the almost incessant glare,
Fosterdyke and his companions could do
little or nothing but hang on, trusting that
the "Golden Hind" would steer herself
through the opaque masses of vapour.  It
was impossible to consult the instruments.
Whether the airship was rising or falling,
whether she was steering north, south, east,
or west remained questions that were
incapable of being solved, since the blinding
flashes of lightning and the deafening peals
of thunder literally deprived the occupants
of the navigation-room of every sense save
that of touch.  All they could do was to
hold on tightly, clench their teeth, and wait.\par

It required some holding on.  At one
moment the longitudinal axis of the airship
was inclined at an angle of forty-five
degrees; at another she was heeling to
almost the same angle, the while twisting
and writhing like a trapped animal.  Now
and again she seemed to be enveloped in
electric fluid.  Dazzling flashes of blue
flame played on and along the aluminium
envelope, vicious tongues of forked lightning
seemed to stab the gas-bag through and
through; and doubtless had the ballonets
contained hydrogen instead of
non-inflammable brodium the "Golden Hind"
would have crashed seawards in trailing
masses of flame.\par

How long this inferno lasted no one on
board had the remotest idea.  The flight
of time remained a matter of individual
calculation.  To Kenyon it seemed hours;
Bramsdean afterwards confessed that he
thought the passage through the storm
cloud lasted thirty minutes.  In reality
only six minutes had elapsed from the
time the "Golden Hind" was enveloped
in the thunder cloud till the moment when
she emerged.\par

It was much like being in a train coming
out of a long tunnel.  With their eyes
still dazed by the vivid flashes the men in
the navigation-room became aware that
the vapour was growing lighter.  They
could distinguish the smoke-like rolls of
mist as the sunshine penetrated the upper
edges of the clouds.  Then, no longer
beaten by the torrential downpour of hail,
the "Golden Hind" shot into a blaze of
brilliant sunshine.\par

It seemed too good to be true.  For
some moments Fosterdyke and his
companions simply stared blankly ahead until
their eyes grew accustomed to the different
conditions.\par

Then Kenyon, who was still officer of
the watch, glanced over the shoulder of the
helmsman and noted the compass.  The
lubber's line was a point west of north.
The "Golden Hind" had been practically
retracing her course, and might be
anything from fifty to a hundred miles farther
away from her goal than she had been when
the storm enveloped her.\par

Obedient to the action of the vertical
rudders the airship swung back on her
former course.  The altimeter indicated
a height of twelve thousand feet, and the
"Golden Hind" was still rising.  Three
thousand feet below was an expanse of
wind-torn clouds, no longer showing dark,
but of a dazzling whiteness.  The crew of
the "Golden Hind" were literally looking
on the bright side of things.\par

"We're well above the path of the
storm," remarked Fosterdyke, gratefully.
"We've a lot to be thankful for, but the
fact remains we daren't descend while that
stuff's knocking about.  Once in a
lifetime is quite enough."\par

Before any of his companions could offer
any remark, Murgatroyd, the chief
air-mechanic on duty, appeared through the
hatchway.\par

"Sorry to have to report, sir," he
announced, "that the two after motors are
both out of action.  Blade smashed on the
starboard prop, sir, and the chain-drive
on the port prop has snapped.  The broken
chain is in your cabin, sir."\par

"Who put it there?" asked Fosterdyke.\par

"It put itself there, sir," was the
imperturbable reply.  "Sort of flew off the
sprocket when the link parted and went
bang through the side plate of the fuselage,
sir.  I'll allow it's made a wee bit of
a mess inside, sir."\par

"Take over, Bramsdean, please," said
Fosterdyke.  "Directly you get a chance
obtain our position.  Come on, Kenyon, let's
see the extent of the damage.  The cabin
doesn't matter.  It isn't the first time I've
slept in a punctured dog-box.  But the
mechanical breakdown--that's the thing
that counts."\par

Followed by Murgatroyd, the baronet
and Kenyon went aft.  From No. 5 motor-room
they could see the motionless
propeller, one of the four blades of which had
been shattered as far as the boss, while all
the others bore signs of more or less damage
from the flying fragments.\par

"Matter of twenty minutes, sir," replied
Murgatroyd in answer to his chief's enquiry
as to how long the repairs would take.
"We'll have to stop, and I'll bolt on the
new blades.  At the same time I'll put a
couple of hands on to fitting a new chain
to the starboard drive.  I don't fancy the
'A' bracket's strained, but I'll soon find
out directly we stop."\par

It was rough luck to have to stop all the
motors and drift at the mercy of the air
currents for twenty precious minutes; but
the only option would be to carry on under
the action of four propellers only at a
greatly reduced speed.\par

"Right-o, Murgatroyd," agreed the
baronet.  "Slap it about."\par

"Trust me for that, sir," replied the
engineer.  "I've warned the break-down
gang.  I'll give you the all-clear signal in
twenty minutes--less, sir, or my name
isn't Robert Murgatroyd."\par

Three minutes later the remaining four
motors were switched off, and the "Golden
Hind," rapidly losing way, fell off
broadside on to the wind at a height of twelve
thousand five hundred feet above sea-level.\par

Instantly the mechanics swarmed out
along the slender "A" brackets, Murgatroyd
and an assistant setting to work to unbolt
the damaged blades, while other airmen
passed a new chain round the sprocket
wheels of the starboard motor and
propeller respectively.\par

Although there was no apparent wind,
and the airship was drifting at practically
the same rate as the air current, it was
bitterly cold.  The brackets were slippery
with ice, and the difficulty of maintaining
a foothold was still further increased by
the erratic vertical motion of the airship.\par

The mechanics, wearing lifelines, went
about their work fearlessly.  They were
used to clambering about on coastal
airships, sometimes under fire; and although
the present task was a simple one from
a mechanical point, it was most
difficult owing to the adverse atmospheric
conditions.\par

Yet in the space of seventeen and a half
minutes Murgatroyd and his band of
workers were back in the fuselage, their
task accomplished, and in twenty minutes
the six motors were running once more.\par

Murgatroyd flushed with pleasure when
his chief thanked and complimented him.\par

"Maybe, sir, you'd be liking to have
your cabin repaired?" he asked.  "Just a
sheet of metal strapped against the plates
will hold till we land again.  Then I'll see
that it's well bolted on, sir; but I'll
guarantee you'll not be feeling the draught
to-night."\par

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CHAPTER XIV--THE BOAT'S CREW}

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{\noindent}
The state of his cabin hardly troubled
Fosterdyke.  He never even went to
investigate the extent of the damage, for the
moment the airship's motors were re-started
he hastened back to the navigation-room.\par

"Got a fix yet, Bramsdean?" were
his first words.\par

Peter handed him a slip of paper.\par

"Well out of our course, sir," he remarked.\par

The position was given as lat. 3° 15' 20"
S., long. 58° 20' 5" E.\par

"We are," agreed Fosterdyke gravely.
"Well to the west'ard.  We ought to be
within sight of the Seychelles."\par

"Any chance of getting petrol there, I
wonder?" asked Bramsdean.  "Judging
by the name it seems a likely place to get
'Shell brand.'"\par

"Don't prattle, Peter," exclaimed
Kenneth, facetiously.\par

Fosterdyke laughed at the joke.\par

"Rotten puns, both of them," he said.
"All the same I wish we had another two
hundred gallons of 'Pratt's' or 'Shell'
or any other old brand of petrol.  But it's
no use going still farther out of our course
on the off-chance of getting juice, so we'll
just carry on."\par

With the passing of the cyclone the wind
fell light.  What little there was was dead
aft.  The sea, viewed from an altitude of
three thousand feet, appeared as smooth
as glass, although in reality there was a
long rolling ground swell.\par

In order to economise the petrol
consumption the speed of the "Golden Hind"
was reduced to ninety miles an hour.
Should the favouring wind hold, the
airship stood a good chance of making the
Australian coast.  If it changed and blew
from the south-east, then Fosterdyke's
chances of winning the race would be off.\par

Just before eleven o'clock in the morning
of the day following the storm, Frampton,
one of the crew on duty in the
navigation-room, reported a boat about three
miles away on the port bow.\par

By the aid of glasses it was seen that
the boat was a ship's cutter moving slowly
under sail in an easterly direction.  Her
crew were hidden from view by a spare
sail rigged as an awning over the stern sheets.\par

"Something wrong there," remarked
Bramsdean.  "A small boat hundreds
of miles from the nearest land requires
some explanation.  Inform Sir Reginald,
Frampton; tell him I propose coming
down within hailing distance."\par

Before Fosterdyke could reach the
navigation-room the noise of the "Golden
Hind's" aerial propellers had attracted
the attention of the occupants of the cutter,
and six or seven men, whipping off the
awning, began waving strips of canvas
and various garments.\par

Slowing down and descending to fifty
feet, the airship approached the boat.  The
latter was hardly seaworthy.  Her topstrake
had been stove in on the starboard
side, and had been roughly repaired by
means of a piece of painted canvas.  Her
sails were patched in several places, while
in default of a rudder she was being steered
by means of an oar.\par

"Poor chaps!  Look at them!" ejaculated
Kenneth.  "They're almost done in."\par

The boat's crew were indeed in desperate
straits.  They were ragged, gaunt, and
famished.  Their faces and hands were
burnt to a brick-red colour with exposure
to the wind and tropical sun.  Three of
them, seeing that help was at hand, had
collapsed and were lying inertly on the
bottom-boards.\par

Viewed from a height of fifty feet the
length of the ocean rollers became apparent.
The sea was not dangerous, since there
were no formidable crests to the long
undulations, but there was considerable
risk of the lightly built fuselage sustaining
damage should the boat surge alongside.
On the other hand, it was almost a matter
of impossibility to get the men on board
otherwise than by the airship descending
and resting on the surface.  Obviously
they were far too weak to attempt to climb
the rope-ladder, while the use of bowlines
was open to great objection both as regards
the length of time and the risk of injury to
the rescued men.\par

Being a ship's boat the cutter was
provided with slinging gear.  The question
was whether in her damaged state the boat
would break her back in being hoisted;
but Fosterdyke decided to take the risk.\par

Accordingly wire hawsers were lowered
from the two bow-hawser pipes, and by
dint of careful manoeuvring the shackles
were engaged.  Then, under the lifting
power of additional brodium introduced
into the for'ard ballonets, the "Golden
Hind" rose vertically until the boat was
clear of the water.  The motor winches
were then started and the cutter hauled
up until her gunwales were almost touching
the underside of the airship's nacelle.\par

One by one the exhausted men were
taken on board the airship by means of
the hatchway through which Kenyon had
gone to the rescue of Enrico Jaures.  This
done, two of the "Golden Hind's" men
dropped into the boat and passed slings
round her.  When these took the weight
of the cutter the wire hawsers were
unshackled and the two men clambered back
to the airship, which had now risen to
nearly a thousand feet.  One end of each
sling was then slipped, and the boat, falling
like a stone, splintered to matchwood as
she struck the surface of the sea.\par

The seven rescued men were given food
and drink in strictly moderate quantities.
Vainly they begged for more, but
Fosterdyke knew the danger of starving men
being allowed to eat and drink their fill.
Nor did he attempt to question them at
that juncture, beyond ascertaining that
there were no more boats belonging to their
ship.  They were put into bunks and made to sleep.\par

It was not until ten o'clock on the
following morning that four of the rescued
men put in an appearance in Fosterdyke's
cabin.  The remaining three were too ill
to leave their bunks.\par

They were, they said, the sole survivors of
the American barque {\itshape{Hilda P. Murchison}},
thirty days out from Albany, Western
Australia, and bound for Karachi.  Three
hundred miles east of the Chagos Archipelago
an explosion took place, but whether
external or internal the survivors did not
know.  One of them thought it might
have been a mine.  But it was severe
enough to sink the {\itshape{Hilda P. Murchison}} in
less than five minutes, and the sole survivors
were the first mate and six hands of the
duty watch, who managed to scramble
into the only boat that had not been
shattered.\par

Without food and with only a small
barrico of water, they set off to make their
way back to Australia, knowing that with
the prevailing winds they stood a much
better chance of making land there than
if they attempted a three-hundred-mile
beat to windward, with the risk of missing
the Chagos Archipelago altogether.\par

That was eight days ago.  They contrived
to exist upon raw fish, tallow candles--which
they found in a locker--and half a
pint of water per man per diem.\par

Once they sighted a vessel, but their
signals for assistance were unnoticed.  Then
they encountered a white squall, the tail
end of a storm that ripped their sails before
they could stow canvas, and carried away
the rudder.\par

The blow was succeeded by a flat calm.
For hours the cutter drifted idly, her
roughly repaired sails hanging listlessly in
the sultry air.  Almost overcome by hunger,
fatigue, and the tropical heat, they were
on the point of despair when the timely
arrival of the British airship snatched
them from a lingering death.\par

"I hope we'll be able to set you ashore
at Fremantle within the next eight or ten
hours," said Fosterdyke.  "Meanwhile we'll
get in touch with the wireless station there
and report your rescue.  Oh, yes, you
may smoke in the for'ard compartment,
but you'll find this ship as 'dry' as the
land of the Stars and Stripes."\par

During the rest of the day progress was
well maintained.  The westerly breeze
increased to half a gale, which meant an
addition of thirty to forty miles an hour
to the airship's speed.  Barring accidents
the "Golden Hind" would reach Fremantle
with petrol still remaining in her tanks.\par

"It's not often one gets a westerly wind
in the Twenties," observed the baronet.
"South-east Trades are the usual order of
things.  We're lucky.  Normally we should
have to go as far south as 40° to rely upon
a westerly wind."\par

"It will help us from Fremantle to New
Zealand," said Peter.  "I remember
reading in the paper not so many months ago
of the skipper of a sailing vessel who tried
for days to beat up from Melbourne to
Fremantle.  Finally he gave up beating
to wind'ard as a hopeless job, so he turned
and ran before the westerly breeze, sailed
round the Horn and the Cape of Good Hope,
and actually arrived at Fremantle several
days before another vessel that had left
Melbourne at the same time as he did."\par

"Let's hope we'll find an equally favouring
wind to help us across the Pacific,"
remarked Fosterdyke.  "We'll want it."\par

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CHAPTER XV--REVELATIONS}

\unskip\vskip 40pt\nobreak

{\noindent}
"Land ahead!"\par

The hail brought Fosterdyke and
Bramsdean from their cabins with the
utmost alacrity.  They had not expected
to sight Australia for another hour and a
half, and now there was certainly land far
away to the east'ard.\par

During the last three hours the clear
sky had given place to a thick bank of
dark clouds.  Observations to determine
the "Golden Hind's" position were therefore
out of the question.  She was steering
a compass course with the wind almost
dead aft.  It was a case of dead reckoning,
and now no one knew exactly what part
of Western Australia they were
approaching--whether it was north or south
of the Fremantle aerodrome.\par

"We'll do it before dark," declared
Fosterdyke, confidently.\par

He had hardly spoken when Murgatroyd's
head and shoulders appeared through the
hatchway of the navigation-room.\par

"We're on the last few gallons of petrol,
sir," he reported.  "I've me doubts if the
engines'll run another ten minutes.  They're
slowing down now," he added.\par

"Switch off all but numbers 1 and
2 motors," ordered the baronet.  "Keep
these running for twenty minutes if you
can, and we'll manage it."\par

But before the chief engineer could
regain the for'ard motor-room the six
aerial propellers were motionless.  The
"Golden Hind" no longer drove through
the air, but simply drifted broadside on to
the strong breeze.\par

Just as the sun sank in the Indian Ocean
the airship crossed the coastline.  Ten
miles to the north could be discerned Perth
and Fremantle--ten miles that, as far as
the "Golden Hind" was concerned might
have been a thousand.\par

"Down with her," ordered Fosterdyke.
"Stand by with both grapnels.  We'll
have to trust to luck to find a good
anchoring-ground."\par

It was not until the airship had passed
over the railway running southward from
Perth to Busselton that Kenyon noted a
hill that might afford shelter from the strong wind.\par

Rapidly several thousand cubic feet of
brodium were exhausted from the ballonets,
with the result that the "Golden Hind"
dropped to within a hundred feet of the ground.\par

There was just sufficient twilight to make
out the nature of the landing place.  It
was a wide belt of grassland, dotted here
and there with small trees.  Hedges there were none.\par

"There are a couple of men on horseback,
sir," reported Frampton.\par

"Good," replied Fosterdyke.  "Let go
both grapnels.  See how she takes that."\par

Both of the stout barbed hooks engaged
the moment they touched the ground.
Even though the wire ropes were paid out
in order to reduce the strain, the jerk was
severe.  Round swung the giant airship
head to wind, but still she dragged.  The
grapnels had caught in a wire fence, and
having uprooted half a dozen posts, were
doing their level best to remove a five-mile
sheep fence.\par

Up galloped the two farmers.  The
uprooting of their boundary fence hardly
troubled them.  The arrival of the airship--the
first they had ever seen--occupied
all their attention.\par

"Make fast for us, please," hailed
Fosterdyke, having ordered another rope
to be lowered.\par

"Right-o," was the reply.  "We'll fix you up."\par

Dismounting and tethering their
somewhat restive horses, the two Australians
took the end of the third wire rope to the
trunk of a large tree-the only one for
miles, as it so happened.  Fortunately
they knew how to make a rope fast--an
accomplishment that few people other
than seamen possess.\par

"Where are we?" asked the baronet.\par

"In Minto County, ten miles from
Kelmscott," was the reply.\par

"Any petrol to be had hereabouts?"\par

"Sure," was the unexpected answer.
"How much do you want?"\par

"A hundred gallons--enough to take
us to Fremantle," replied Fosterdyke rather
dubiously.\par

"Two hundred if you want," offered
the good Samaritan.  "I'll run it along
in less than an hour."\par

"Will to-morrow at daybreak do equally
as well?" asked Sir Reginald, knowing
the difficulty and possible danger of
handling quantities of the highly volatile
spirit in the dark.  "We'll be all right here
until morning if the wind doesn't increase."\par

"It won't," declared the farmer,
confidently.  "If anything it'll fall light.  If
you're in a hurry, I'll hitch you on to my
motor lorry and tow you into Fremantle."\par

Fosterdyke thanked him and begged to
be excused on the score that he was obliged
by the terms of the race to make a flight
without outside assistance in the matter
of propulsion.\par

The two Australians, declining an invitation
to go on board the airship, rode away
in the darkness.\par

As the farmer had predicted, the wind
fell away to a dead calm, so the airship
was able to rest upon the ground, but ready,
should the breeze spring up, to ascend to
a hundred feet and there ride it out until
the promised petrol was forthcoming.\par

"Now for our first dinner on or over
Australian soil," exclaimed Fosterdyke.
"By Jove, I'm hungry!  What's going?"\par

He scanned the menu card.  The cooks
on the airship were good men at their work,
and dinner, whenever circumstances
permitted, was rather a formal affair.\par

"Hullo!" exclaimed Peter.  "Covers
laid for four, eh?"\par

"Yes," replied the baronet.  "I'm
expecting a guest.  Ah! here he is.  Let me
introduce you to my friend, Mr. Trefusis."\par

Kenyon and Bramsdean could hardly
conceal their astonishment, for standing
just inside the doorway, immaculately
dressed in well-cut clothes, was the man
they had hitherto known as Otto Freising,
the fellow who had attempted to shoot
Fosterdyke at Alexandria.\par

"Secret Service," explained the baronet.
"Had to keep the affair dark, even from
you two fellows."\par

"You certainly did us in the eye," said Peter.\par

"No more than I did Señor Jaures,"
rejoined Trefusis.  "I had a rotten time
cooped up with that bird, but it was worth it."\par

"So you've succeeded?" asked Fosterdyke.\par

Trefusis nodded.\par

"Wouldn't be here if I hadn't," he
remarked.  "It took me some time to get
the right side of Señor Enrico, but I
managed it.  He rather looked a bit
sideways at me when I pitched a yarn about
being a Hun.  However, I've got it out
of him that he was employed by von Sinzig
to kipper your part of the show, and judging
by accounts he almost succeeded.  You'll
have enough evidence, Fosterdyke, to
disqualify von Sinzig."\par

"I'll think about it," drawled the
baronet.  "After all's said and done the
Hun is a sport, only his idea of sport differs
radically from ours.  It's his nature, I
suppose.  But another time you fire at me
with blank cartridges, Trefusis, old son,
please don't aim at my head.  Grains of
burnt powder in one's eyes aren't pleasant."\par

"Nor did I feel very pleasant," rejoined
the Secret Service man, "when that
officious blighter suggested putting me
under arrest and trying me in a Civil Court.
He must have thought you pretty
high-handed, rushing me off in your airship."\par

"Yes, it was as well I took Colonel
Holmes into my confidence," said Fosterdyke.
"Otherwise you might at this
moment be cooling your heels in a 'Gippy'
prison.  However, we've got evidence
against von Sinzig, if needs be."\par

"What are you going to do with Señor
Jaures?" asked Trefusis.\par

"Do with him?  Nothing much.  Fact,
I'll do it now, directly we've finished dinner."\par

The meal over, Fosterdyke ordered
Enrico Jaures to be brought in.  The look
on the miscreant's features was positively
astounding when he found his former
companion in captivity revealed in his
true colours.\par

"Now, Enrico Jaures," began Fosterdyke,
without further preliminaries.  "You
understand English, in spite of your
previous denial.  Read that.  If you agree
to it, you are a free man the moment you've
signed the statement."\par

At the promise of liberty Enrico plucked
up courage.  He had a wholesome respect
for the word of an Englishman.\par

The document was in the form of a
confession, stating that Enrico Jaures had
agreed, for a certain sum promised by Count
Karl von Sinzig, to hinder, either by
crippling or destroying the "Golden Hind,"
Sir Reginald Fosterdyke's attempt to fly
round the world.\par

"I'll sign," said Enrico.\par

He wrote his name.  Kenyon and
Trefusis witnessed the signature.\par

The baronet folded the document and
placed it in his pocket.\par

"Now you can go," he said.\par

"But how am I to return to Gibraltar?"
asked Jaures.\par

"That's your affair," replied Fosterdyke,
sternly.  "You ought to be thankful you're
still alive.  Now go."\par

At the first sign of dawn the Australian
farmer, true to his word, arrived with a
large motor-lorry piled with filled petrol
cans.  He was not alone.  The seemingly
sparsely-populated district now teemed
with people.  Hundreds must have seen
the "Golden Hind" pass overhead the
previous evening, but how they discovered
the airship's temporary anchorage was a
mystery.  There were townsmen in
motorcars, sturdy farmers on motor-cycles,
waggons, and carts, backwoodsmen on
bicycles and on foot.  Even the
"sun-downer" class were represented.\par

The "Golden Hind" had just completed
her preparations for flying back to
Fremantle aerodrome when a motor-cyclist
rode up and handed Fosterdyke a telegram.\par

"It was fortunate we didn't make
Fremantle last night," observed the baronet,
handing the message to Kenyon and
Bramsdean.  "The aerodrome was destroyed by
fire at one o'clock this morning."\par

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CHAPTER XVI--THE OBSERVATION BASKET}

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{\noindent}
While the "Golden Hind" was struggling
towards the shores of Western Australia,
Count Karl von Sinzig in Z64 was flying
almost due south from Samarang, in the
island of Java.\par

He, too, had had a taste of the cyclone,
which had extended over the whole of the
Arabian Sea and had been severely felt as
far north as the Persian-Turkestan frontier.\par

Practically helpless in the grip of the
furious blast, Z64 had been driven far off
her course.  Passing high over the
mountainous districts of Thibet, the German
airship, unseen and unheard, finally
encountered a stiff northerly wind when
approaching the China Sea in the
neighbourhood of Hanoi.  Already the start
von Sinzig had obtained over his British
rival was wiped out.  The long detour he
had been obliged to take represented twelve
hours' flight under normal conditions, and
since he knew of Fosterdyke's progress by
the expedient of picking up the "Golden
Hind's" wireless message, he realised that
the latter had made good her belated departure.\par

At Samarang, Z64 took in fresh
hydrogen and petrol.  Von Sinzig reported his
arrival to the representatives of the
International Air Board, and stated his intention
of proceeding via New Guinea, New
Caledonia, and Norfolk Island to New
Zealand, where he would be able to fulfil one
of the conditions that required the
competitors to touch at a spot within one degree
of the nadir to their starting-point.\par

But von Sinzig had no intention of
carrying out his declared programme.
Directly he was well clear of Samarang, he
shaped a course due south in order to pick
up the prevailing westerly wind south of
Australia on which Fosterdyke counted
also.  A stiff northerly wind over the Sunda
Sea helped the German to attain his object,
and on the evening that the "Golden
Hind" drifted to south of Fremantle, Z64
was skirting the coast of West Australia,
in the neighbourhood of Geographe Bay.\par

Von Sinzig was in a bad state of mind.
He knew by means of a code message from
Barcelona that one of his agents had made
an attempt to delay the "Golden Hind's"
departure.  What had actually taken place
he knew not.  All he did know was the
galling fact that the attempt had been
unsuccessful, and that by this time his
rival was practically level with him.\par

"Hans," he exclaimed, calling one of his
subordinates, formerly an Unter-Leutnant
in the German Flying Service and before
that a Mercantile Marine officer.\par

Hans Leutter clicked his heels and stood
to attention.\par

"You know Fremantle?" enquired the
count, brusquely.\par

"Fairly well, mein Herr," was the reply.
"I've called there perhaps a dozen times
in cargo boats.  The last time was in
January, 1914."\par

"There was, of course, no aerodrome there then?"\par

"Assuredly no, sir."\par

"According to my information it is on
the right bank of the Swan River and a
couple of kilometres to the east of the
town.  It ought to be easily found."\par

Hans Leutter agreed that to locate it
ought to be a simple matter.\par

"Then we'll do so, little Hans,"
exclaimed the count, grimly.  "We might
even make the Englishman Fosterdyke a
little present anonymously, of course."\par

The ex-Unter-Leutnant grinned.\par

"You wish me to take the Albatross for
an airing then?" he said.\par

"Ach, no," replied von Sinzig.  "If
our Albatross were invisible and noiseless,
it would be different.  We'll use the
observation basket.  Overhaul the mechanism
carefully, because you, little Hans, are
going to use it."\par

Hans Leutter saluted and went for'ard.
He was not at all keen on being told
off for observation work, but his innate
sense of discipline made him accept the
duty without outward signs of resentment.
Somehow he didn't relish the idea of being
lowered from the Zeppelin and allowed to
dangle at the end of two or three thousand
feet of fine wire.\par

Shortly before midnight the look-out
on Z64 picked up the harbour and town
lights of Fremantle.  It was now a fairly
calm night.  At five thousand feet was a
stratum of light clouds, sufficient to obscure
the starlight.  The climatic conditions for
von Sinzig's plans were exactly what he wanted.\par

When the German airship was dead to
windward of the town her motors were
switched off and she was allowed to drift
in and out of the lower edge of the bank
of clouds.\par

From her foremost nacelle a circular
basket, fitted with a vertical vane to
prevent it from turning round and round like
a gigantic meat-jack, was hanging.  In
the basket, with a couple of small
incendiary bombs for company, was Hans
Leutter.  In order to keep in touch with
the captain of Z64 Hans was provided
with a wireless telephone.\par

"All ready," announced the observer.  "Lower away."\par

The well-oiled mechanism ran smoothly
and noiselessly until a sudden check in the
downward journey told Hans that the
observation basket had reached the limit
of its cable.  From where he dangled--nearly
two-thirds of a mile below the
airship--Z64 was quite invisible.  It was
therefore safe to assume that the good
people of Fremantle were likewise not in
a position to see the huge gas-bag five
thousand feet overhead, while the
insignificant observation basket, although only
a thousand feet or so up, was too minute
to be spotted against the blurred starlight.\par

On the other hand, Hans Leutter could
command a fairly comprehensive view of
the town beneath him.  The tranquil
waters of the Swan River enabled him to
fix his position, for even on the darkest
night a river can readily be seen by an
aerial observer.  The navigation lamps of
the aerodrome almost misled him.  At
first he mistook them for the railway
station; but when he discovered his
mistake he asked himself why the aerial
signalling lamps were still being exhibited.
According to the latest wireless messages
picked up by Z64, the "Golden Hind"
ought by this time to be berthed in the
hangar.  But, perhaps, he argued, the
officials in their demonstrations of welcome
had forgotten to switch the lights off.\par

"This reminds me of London in 1916,"
thought Hans.  "London in those good old
days when our Zeppelins came and went
almost without let or hindrance.  Now,
my beauty, you and I must part."\par

He raised the bomb and poised it on the
edge of the basket.  In his excitement he
had completely forgotten his fears at being
suspended by a steel rope almost the same
gauge as a piano-wire.\par

The incendiary bomb was quite a small
affair, but none the less efficacious.  In
order to guard against identification should
any of the metal parts be found, the vanes
were stamped with the British Government
marks, which showed that von Sinzig, with
characteristic Teutonic thoroughness, had
taken the precaution of covering his tracks.
The British Air Ministry and the Australian
Commonwealth Government could appraise
responsibility later--by that time Z64
would be thousands of miles away.\par

Allowing for the slight breeze, Hans
Leutter telephoned for the Zeppelin to
steer ten degrees to the nor'ard.  Slowly
Z64 carried out the instructions, and
seesawing gently the observation basket moved
in a slightly different direction from its
previous line of drift until the crucial
moment arrived.\par

Hans Leutter released the bomb.  For
three seconds the observer could follow
its downward passage; then it vanished
into the darkness.  Five seconds later the
missile hit its objective.\par

There was no need for a second bomb.
The airship shed was blazing fiercely.\par

The Hun in the basket spoke into the telephone.\par

"Direct hit," he reported.  "Haul me up."\par

Z64 had once more stopped her motors
and was rising rapidly above the bank of
clouds.  At the same time a motor winch
was winding in the cable, and Hans
Leutter's rate of progress as the basket
whirred through the air brought back all
his fears concerning his hazardous position.
What if there were a flaw in the wire?  It
was ex-Government stuff, he recalled--material
that might have been left lying in
a neglected condition for months before
von Sinzig acquired it for its present
purpose.  And supposing the wire slipped
off the drum and got nipped in the cogs
of the winch?  A score of thoughts of a
similar nature flashed across the observer's
mind.  He broke into a gentle perspiration.
He trembled violently as a mental
vision of himself hurtling through space
gripped him in all its hideousness.\par

But the wire held.  Hans Leutter was
assisted into the nacelle, where he promptly
fainted.  By that time Z64 was several
miles away from Fremantle, but a dull
red glare on the horizon unmistakably
indicated the extent of the conflagration.\par

Throughout the night Z64 flew at an
altitude of not less than fifteen thousand
feet.  Dawn found her far to the south'ard
of the Great Australian Bight.\par

Von Sinzig had good cause for keeping
out of the beaten steamer tracks; nor did
he intend to pass within a hundred miles
of the southern part of Tasmania.  He
counted upon arriving at Napier, New
Zealand, at daybreak on the day following,
and until then he meant to be most careful
not to be reported by any vessel.\par

The commander of Z64 had just sat
down to breakfast when one of the crew
entered his cabin.\par

"Pardon, Herr Offizier," said the man,
apologetically, "but the observation basket
is missing."\par

"What do you mean?" demanded von Sinzig.\par

"We secured it after Herr Leutter had
finished with it, Herr Kapitan," explained
the man.  "I myself saw that the four
bottle-screws were turned up tightly.
Kaspar Graus, who had been told to
remove the remaining petrol bomb, came
and reported that the basket was no
longer there.  The metal clips were still
attached to the bottle-screws.  It would
appear that these were torn from the
basket itself."\par

Count Karl von Sinzig left his breakfast
untasted and hurried along the catwalk to
the gondola from which the observation
basket was hung.  His informant's news
was only too true.  Unaccountably the
basket had been wrenched from its securing
apparatus.\par

"It is of little consequence," he declared.
"We would not have required it again,
and, since it will not float, it is at the bottom
of the sea by this time.  Perhaps it is as
well, in case we are inspected by inquisitive
officials at our next alighting place."\par

It was an unlucky day for Z64.  About
noon two of her motors developed trouble
simultaneously.  Three hours elapsed
before the sweating mechanics were able
to get the recalcitrant engines in running
order again, and during that period the
Zeppelin had perforce to slow down
considerably.  Consequently, it was half an
hour after sunrise when Z64 sighted the
Three Kings Island to the north-west of
Cape Maria van Diemen.  Here she altered
course, so as ostensibly to appear as if she
had been flying straight from New
Caledonia, and, skirting the west coast of New
Zealand, headed for Napier, where, by the
consent of the New Zealand Government,
von Sinzig was permitted to land and thus
carry out one of the conditions of the contest.\par

"We'll fly inland when we sight Auckland,"
decided the count.  "No, don't
take her up any higher.  There is now
no need for concealment.  Let these New
Zealanders see and comment upon the fact
that their islands are not beyond reach of
a good German airship."\par

And so, flaunting her prowess in the
rapidly-growing daylight, Z64 approached
the town of Auckland.  The Zeppelin was
within ten miles of the place when one
of the crew shouted the disconcerting
information that there was an airship
on the starboard bow, travelling east by north.\par

Rapping out a furious oath, von Sinzig
snatched up a pair of binoculars.  He had
never before set eyes on the "Golden Hind,"
although the British airship had passed
almost immediately above him within a
few minutes of Z64 leaving her Spanish
base, but instinctively he realised that
this was his greatest rival, Sir Reginald
Fosterdyke's creation.\par

"Gott in Himmel!" shouted von Sinzig.
"Leutter, you numbskull, you made a
hideous mess of things last night!  Look--the
'Golden Hind'!"\par

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CHAPTER XVII--A SURPRISE FOR CAPTAIN PROUT}

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{\noindent}
Captain Abraham Prout, master and
part owner of the topsail schooner {\itshape{Myrtle}},
of 120 tons burthen, came on deck on
hearing the mate give the order "All
hands shorten sail!"\par

It was six o'clock in the morning, still
dark and very cold, for the {\itshape{Myrtle}} was
on the fortieth parallel of the Southern
Hemisphere, and the month being June
it was mid-winter.  There were flakes of
snow flying about.  For the last three days
and nights it had either been sleeting,
raining, or snowing, or else all three together;
but the wind was fair, and there was every
prospect of the schooner making a quick
passage from Albany to Hobart.\par

"There's something behind this muck,
Abe," remarked the mate, who, on the
strength of being the "Old Man's" brother-in-law,
was on familiar terms with Captain
Prout.  "The old hooker won't carry her
topsails with the breeze a-freshenin'.  Best
be on the safe side, says I."\par

"Quite right, Tom," agreed the skipper.
"New topmasts cost a mort sight o'
money in these hard times.  Anything
to report?"\par

"Nothin'," replied the mate, laconically.\par

He shook the frozen sleet from the rim of
his sou'wester and turned to inform one of
the crew, in polite language of the sea, that
"he'd better get a move on an' not stand
there a-hanging on to the slack."\par

"There's some tea a-goin', Tom,"
announced Captain Prout.  "Nip below an'
get a mug to warm you up a bit."\par

The mate fell in with the suggestion with
alacrity.  The skipper, having seen the
hands complete their task of "gettin' the
tops'ls off her," went aft to where the
half-frozen helmsman was almost mechanically
toying with the wheel.\par

Through sheer force of habit Captain
Prout peered into the feebly illuminated
compass-bowl.  Even as he did so, there
was a tremendous crash.\par

The {\itshape{Myrtle}} trembled from truck to
kelson, while from aloft a jumble of
splintered spars, cordage, and canvas fell upon
the deck like a miniature avalanche.\par

Captain Prout's first impressions were
those of pained surprise.  For the moment
he was firmly convinced that the schooner
had piled herself upon an uncharted rock,
but the absence of any signs of the vessel
pounding against a hard bottom reassured
him on that point.\par

Although in ignorance of what had
occurred, the tough old skipper rose to the
occasion.\par

"Steady on your helm!" he shouted to
the man at the wheel.  "Don't let her fall
off her course."\par

The helmsman obeyed.  It was no easy
matter, since he was enveloped in a fold of
the mainsail and the {\itshape{Myrtle}} was towing
the main-topmast and a portion of the
cross-trees alongside.\par

Alarmed by the commotion, the "watch
below"--two men and a boy--rushed on
deck, while the mate, issuing from the
after-cabin with a tin pannikin of tea still
grasped in his hand, raised his voice in a
strongly worded enquiry to know what had
happened to the old hooker.\par

"Get a light, Tom, an' we'll have a
squint at the damage," shouted the Old
Man.  "One of you sound the well and
see if she's making any.  Dick, you
just see if them sidelights are burning
properly."\par

The mate disappeared, to return with a
hurricane lamp.\par

"Jerusalem!" he exclaimed.  "Ain't
it a lash up?"\par

The mainmast had been broken off five
feet below the cross-trees, with the result
that the main and throat halliard blocks
had gone with the broken spars, while the
mainsail, with the gaff and boom, had fallen
across the deck.  The shroud halliards
still held, and the wire shrouds themselves
trailed athwart both bulwarks.  Apparently
the foremast was intact, since it was the
main topmast stay that had parted under
the strain.\par

This much Captain Prout saw, noted,
and understood, but what puzzled him was
a telescoped object, looking very much like
an exaggerated top-hat, that lay upon the
deck between the mainmast fife-rail and
the coaming of the main hatch.\par

"Guess it's a meteorite," hazarded the mate.\par

"Meteorite, my foot!" ejaculated
Captain Prout, scornfully.  "If't had been,
'twould ha' gone slap bang through the
old hooker, an' we'd have been in the ditch."\par

"It's had a good try, anyway," rejoined
the mate.  "Half a dozen deck planks stove in."\par

He held the lantern close to the mysterious object.\par

"Looks like a bloomin' bath," he
continued, "and I'm hanged if there isn't a
whopping big bird in it.  Rummiest
birdcage I've ever set eyes on."\par

The cause of the damage to the
{\itshape{Myrtle's}} top-hamper and deck planks
was Z64's observation basket.  Instead
of falling into the sea and decorously
sinking to the bottom, as von Sinzig had
hoped, the contrivance had struck the only
vessel within a radius of a hundred miles.
With its head and neck driven completely
through the aluminium side of the basket
was a large eagle.  The huge bird had struck
the suspended basket such a tremendous
blow that the impact had wrenched away
the metal clips securing it to the bottle-screws.\par

"Standin' an' looking at the blessed
thing won't clear away this raffle," said
the Old Man with asperity.  "Set to,
all hands.  Secure and belay all you can
and cut the rest adrift."\par

"Heave this lot overboard, Abe?"
questioned the mate, kicking the basket
with his sea-boot.\par

"Best let 'un stop awhile," decided the
skipper.  "Pass a lashing round it.  Be
sharp with that topmast, or it'll stove us in."\par

Quickly the mate and a couple of hands
cut away the rigging that held the topmast
alongside.  The heavy spar, which had
been bumping heavily against the side,
fell clear.  The {\itshape{Myrtle}}, no longer
impeded by the trailing wreckage, forged
rapidly through the water, although she
was now carrying foresail, staysail, and
outer jib only.\par

By this time day had broken.  The
snow had ceased falling, and right ahead
the pale sun shone in a grey, misty sky.\par

The crew, having made all ship-shape
as far as lay in their power, were curiously
regarding the cause of the catastrophe.
They rather looked upon it as a diversion
to break the monotony.\par

"There's a log of sorts, sir," exclaimed
one of the men, fumbling with the leather
straps that secured the unused petrol
bomb.  The missile had been badly dented,
but luckily the safety cap was intact.
Had it not been so, the bomb would have
ignited on impact, and the {\itshape{Myrtle}},
her snow-swept deck notwithstanding,
would soon have been enveloped in flames
from stem to stern.\par

"Don't fool around with it, Ted," said
another of the crew, who, an R.N.R. man,
had seen life and death in the Great
War.  "It's a bomb."\par

"Well," observed Captain Prout,
"that's more'n I bargained for.  I've
taken my chances with floating mines,
but it's coming too much of a good thing
when these airmen blokes start chucking
bombs haphazard-like."\par

"Best pitch the thing overboard,"
suggested the mate.\par

"No," objected the Old Man.  "If
we do, we've no evidence.  Someone's got
to pay for this lash up.  Government
broad arrow on the thing, too.  That
fixes it.  When we make Hobart I'll raise
Cain or my name's not Abraham Prout."\par

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CHAPTER XVIII--UNDER FIRE}

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{\noindent}
"It's going to be a close race, Kenyon,"
remarked Fosterdyke, as Z64 crossed the
"Golden Hind's" bows at a distance of
less than a mile.\par

"Guess we're top-dog, though," replied
Kenneth.  "We've wiped out the Hun's
useful lead, and at the half-way point
we're practically level."\par

"Yes," agreed the baronet; "but we
must not ignore the element of chance.
Let me see"--he referred to the large
Mercator map--"according to the latest
reports, Commodore Nye's 'Eagle' is at
Khartoum.  His hop across the Atlantic
and a non-stop run over the Sahara takes
a lot of beating.  I'd like to meet that
Yankee.  And there's the Jap, Count
Hyashi.  He's at Panama, after having
been hung up for three days at Honolulu.
If he'd been able to carry on without a
hitch, his quadruplane would have won
the race.  So it appears that all the
competitors have completed half the course
at practically the same time."\par

"Aeroplane approaching, sir," reported Collings.\par

Right ahead a biplane was heading
towards the "Golden Hind," followed
at close intervals by three more.
Seemingly ignoring the German airship, which
was now on a diverging course, the four
machines with admirable precision turned
and accompanied the British airship.\par

Two took up station on either side of
the "Golden Hind."  Each flew the New
Zealand ensign.  It was Fosterdyke's
preliminary welcome to the Antipodes.\par

Gliding serenely earthwards in perfectly
calm air, the "Golden Hind" entered the
big shed prepared for her reception.  The
civic officials of Auckland turned out in
force, supported by crowds of "Diggers"
and a fair sprinkling of Maoris.\par

"We quite understand," was the mayor's
remark when Fosterdyke, thanking him
for the warmness of his reception, firmly
but courteously refused to attend a
banquet proposed to be given in his honour.
"This is a race, not a ceremonial tour.
The prestige of the Empire is at stake, so
get on with it."\par

Accordingly, the "Golden Hind's" crew
did "get on with it."  Aided by scores
of willing helpers, they replenished fuel
tanks, took in fresh water and provisions
and necessary stores.  A representative
of the International Air Board was in
attendance to sign the control sheet,
certifying that the "Golden Hind" had
completed half the circuit, and had touched
at a spot within a degree of the opposite
point of the globe to his starting-point.
Within an hour and a quarter of her
arrival at Auckland the British airship
started on her homeward voyage.\par

Although New Zealand had no cause
to show any goodwill towards the Huns,
von Sinzig had no reason to complain of
his reception.  He was received coldly,
it is true, but the New Zealanders,
sportsmen all, were not ones to put obstacles
in the way of an alien and former enemy.\par

Notified by wireless of Z64's impending
arrival at Napier, the authorities at that
town had cylinders of hydrogen and a large
stock of petrol in readiness for the German
airship's requirements.  Within ten minutes
of the "Golden Hind's" departure from
Auckland Z64 started from Napier.\par

The contest had now entered upon a
more interesting phase.  It was almost
certain that the rivals would take a
practically identical course, crossing the
American continent in the neighbourhood of the
Isthmus of Panama.  The lofty Andes,
extending like a gigantic backbone from
Colombia to Patagonia--an almost
uninterrupted range 450 miles in
length--presented a difficult, though not exactly
insurmountable obstacle to the rival airships.\par

Vainly the wireless operators of the
"Golden Hind" sought to "pick up"
the Zeppelin.  Von Sinzig had seen to
that, for directly the German airship left
New Zealand he gave orders that on no
account were messages to be transmitted,
but on the other hand, the receivers were
to be constantly in use, in order to pick
up any radiograms that might throw light
upon the movements of the "Golden Hind."\par

Apart from the chagrin at the knowledge
that his attempt to burn the British
airship was a failure, von Sinzig felt rather
elated.  His deceptive report of the course
he had taken from Java to New Zealand
had been accepted by the authorities
without question; hence no suspicion could
possibly be attached to him for the burning
of the Fremantle aerodrome.  He was
also of the opinion that Z64 was a swifter
craft than her rival, and possessed another
advantage--that of greater fuel-carrying
capacity.  Even if the "Golden Hind"
did possess a higher speed, she would have
to alight more frequently to replenish her tanks.\par

As far as the "Golden Hind" was
concerned the run across the Panama was
almost devoid of incident.  With the
exception of a distant view of Pitcairn
Island--famous in connection with the
mutiny of the {\itshape{Bounty}}--no land was
sighted until Galapagos Group was seen
ten miles on the starboard bow.\par

The "Golden Hind" was now re-crossing
the equator.  Fosterdyke, who had
crossed the line at least a dozen times,
in all sorts of vessels from luxuriant liners
to singy tramps, and even on one occasion
on board a wind-jammer, declared that
there was nothing to beat an airship for
travelling in the Tropics.\par

"For one thing you can keep cool,"
he added; "another, that will appeal to
a good many people, is the fact that
an airship is beyond reach of Father
Neptune and his merry myrmidons.  And the
Doldrums, instead of being regarded as a
terror, afford an easy passage to aircraft
of all descriptions."\par

With the setting of the sun a thick mist
arose--one of those humid tropical mists
that are responsible for malaria and other
zymotic diseases peculiar to the Torrid Zone.\par

At a couple or three thousand feet
altitude, the "Golden Hind" was in pure
clear air, but in the brief twilight the
banks of mist as viewed from above were
picturesque in the extreme.\par

But to the crew of the "Golden Hind"
the picturesqueness of the scene was in a
measure unappreciated.  They were
nearing land, and a fog was one of the most
undesirable climatic conditions.  Not only
was time a consideration, but the petrol
supply was running low.  But for this,
Fosterdyke would have slowed down and
cruised around until the mists dispersed
with daybreak.\par

"We'll have to risk it and make a
descent," he declared.  "Anywhere within
easy distance of Panama will do, because
it is a calm night and there will be little
or no risk of the 'Golden Hind' being
exposed to a high wind.  Thank goodness
we've directional wireless."\par

At length Fosterdyke felt convinced
that the "Golden Hind" was nearing
Panama.  He had arranged by wireless
to detonate three explosive rockets, and
the United States Air Station was to
reply with a similar signal, while searchlights,
directed vertically, would enable
the airship to locate the landing-ground.\par

"Hanged if I can see any searchlights,"
exclaimed Bramsdean.\par

"Killed by the mist," explained the
baronet.  "I fancy I see a blurr of light
two points on our port bow.  What's that,
Truscott?"\par

The wireless operator had left his cabin
and was standing behind Fosterdyke as the
latter was peering through the darkness.\par

"There's a jam for some reason,"
announced Truscott.  "For the last five
minutes I've been calling up Panama,
but there's nothin' doin'.  A high-powered
installation, using the same metre-wave,
is cutting in.  I asked them to knock off,
but they haven't done so."\par

"Inconsiderate blighters!" exclaimed
Fosterdyke.  "Never mind, Truscott, we
can get along all right now.  I fancy I
can see the aerodrome lights."\par

"Yes, sir," agreed Kenyon.  "One point
on our port bow now."\par

"Then fire the rockets," ordered the
baronet, at the same time telegraphing for
the motors to be declutched.\par

Three vivid flashes rent the darkness,
their brilliance illuminating a wide area
of the fog-bank a thousand feet below,
while the report echoed over the level line
of misty vapour like a continuous peal
of thunder.\par

Within a minute of the discharge of
the third rocket two bursts of flame,
accompanied by sharp reports, occurred
at a distance of less than a quarter of a
mile of the "Golden Hind's" port quarter,
while after an interval of fifteen seconds
three more exploded simultaneously in
the same direction.\par

"Guess Uncle Sam can't count,"
remarked Kenyon, imitating to perfection
the nasal drawl of the typical New
Englander.\par

"Looks to me like shrapnel," added
Bramsdean.  "Judging by the way the
smoke mushroomed, it reminds me of
Archies over the Hun lines."\par

"Good enough, we'll drop gently,"
decided Fosterdyke.  "Stand by with the
holding-down lines and have a couple of
grapnels ready."\par

The amount of brodium necessary to
more than neutralise the lifting power of
the gas and the dead weight of the
airship was exhausted from the requisite
number of ballonets, and the "Golden
Hind" began to sink almost vertically
in the still air.\par

Within five minutes she entered the
belt of mist--a warm, sickly-smelling
atmosphere that reminded Kenyon of a
hot-house.\par

"I hear voices," announced Peter.\par

Not far beneath the airship men were
shouting and talking excitedly, but the
crew of the "Golden Hind" were unable
to understand what the men were saying.\par

"Ahoy, there!" hailed Fosterdyke.
"Stand by to take our ropes."\par

Both grapnels were carefully lowered,
since there would be grave risks entailed
by throwing them overboard.  At the
same time half a dozen holding-down ropes
were paid out from each side of the nacelle.
These were caught by unseen hands and
the airship was quickly drawn earthwards
at far too great a speed to please Sir
Reginald Fosterdyke.\par

"Gently," he shouted.  "Avast heaving."\par

The response was a terrible surprise.
Simultaneously two searchlights were
unmasked, their powerful beams at short
range punctuating the fog and impinging
upon the enormous envelope of the
"Golden Hind," while an irregular fusillade
of musketry assailed the airship on
all sides.\par

"Up with her!" shouted Fosterdyke.
"Charge all the ballonets.  We've struck
a revolution."\par

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CHAPTER XIX--VICTIMS OF A REVOLUTION}

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{\noindent}
Above the staccato of rifle-firing rose the
roar of the "Golden Hind's" powerful
motors.  Volumes of brodium, released
from the pressure-flasks, rushed into the
ballonets.  The airship rose at an oblique
angle, her nose almost touching the ground.
Then, as the aerial propellers went ahead,
the fore-part of the fuselage ploughed over
the rough ground.\par

With thirty or forty men hanging on
like grim death to the guide-lines, and as
many more tailing on to the grapnel
ropes, the "Golden Hind," with gas
leaking from numerous bullet holes in her
ballonets, was unable to seek refuge in
her natural element.\par

Fortunately for the safety of the airship's
crew, the rifle-firing quickly ceased
as soon as the attackers realised that they
had effected her capture.  Apparently it
was their intention to prevent further
damage being done to the huge airship.\par

Finding that escape was impossible and
unable to offer resistance, Fosterdyke
opened out one of the doors of the nacelle
and raised his hands above his head.  It
was no disgrace in surrendering thus.
Alive the crew of the "Golden Hind"
could offer and receive explanations.
Dead, they could not.\par

The appearance of the captain of the
"Golden Hind" was greeted by peremptory
orders, shouted in an unintelligible
language.  It certainly wasn't American.
It seemed to Fosterdyke that it was a kind
of Spanish, and since he was ignorant of
that tongue he failed to grasp the meaning
of the volume of directions.\par

Covered by scores of rifles, Fosterdyke,
Kenyon, and Bramsdean headed the crew
of the airship.  Completely bewildered by
the aggressive nature of their reception,
and not knowing what fate would befall
them, the position of the British airmen was
critical in the extreme.  Yet they bore
themselves calmly and bravely, scorning
to let their captors know that inwardly
at least they "felt the breeze."\par

Deftly, as if they were well used to
performing the operation, two half-breeds
searched the baronet for concealed weapons.
The rest of the crew were subjected to the
same treatment.  Finding nothing in the
nature of arms, the searchers looked rather
astonished and disappointed.\par

A gorgeously uniformed man, evidently
the commandant of the band, walked up to
the baronet and saluted with an elaborate
flourish.  There was little doubt about it;
he had already come to the conclusion that
a mistake had occurred, and that he rather
feared the consequences.\par

"Americano, señor?" he asked.\par

"No," replied Fosterdyke.  "English."\par

"Madre de Dios!" ejaculated the
commandant in ill-concealed consternation.
He shouted something to his followers.
After a brief interval, a tall, olive-featured
follower, whose black oiled locks fell on
his shoulders, slouched forward and
announced--\par

"Me speak English.  Vot you do here?"\par

Mutual explanations took a considerable
time; but eventually Fosterdyke and his
companions gleaned the salient facts for
the reason of the attack and capture of
the "Golden Hind."\par

In the tropical mists the airship had
landed not in the Panama Zone but in a
neighbouring republic, which, as is by no
means an unusual occurrence, was indulging
in a little political diversion in the
shape of a revolution.  Just at present
there was no means of ascertaining which
was the predominant faction, but one side
had gained possession of an old
airship--purchased at a disposal sale of one of the
{\itshape{Entente}} countries.  This airship, hastily
fitted out and provided with bombs and
machine-guns, was known to be on the
point of operating against the Federals.
The latter were therefore expecting the
raiding airship when the "Golden Hind,"
miles out of her course owing to the mists
and a side wind that, unknown to the
navigating officers, had blown her well to leeward,
fired her detonating rockets almost immediately
over the Federal party's main force.\par

The Federals knew nothing of the Round
the World Race; but their anxiety to
make amends was most marked.  They
offered to provide unlimited supplies of
petrol, and to render any assistance that
lay in their power; but the fact remained
that the hasty fusillade had caused
considerable damage to the "Golden Hind."\par

At first Fosterdyke thought that the
airship was out of the running.  Kenyon
and Bramsdean were of the same opinion,
for the loss of brodium through the
punctured ballonets seemed a fatal obstacle to
the immediate resumption of the flight.\par

Further examination revealed the fact
that half the number of the ballonets were
holed.  Of these almost every one could
be patched and made gas-tight, since the
rifle-bullets, being of small calibre and of
high velocity, had bored minute holes.
But what was far more serious was the
shortage of brodium.  Even by releasing
the contents of the reserve cylinders it
was doubtful whether there was sufficient
to lift the airship.\par

"We'll have a good try, anyway,"
declared Fosterdyke.  "Once we get her
up we'll rely on our planes to get us across
the Atlantic.  Thank goodness the motors
are intact!  I wonder if there's much
damage done to the navigation-room.
Several bullets came unpleasantly close
to our heads, I remember."\par

Examination resulted in the knowledge
that although the aluminium sides of the
nacelle had been liberally peppered, most
of the nickel bullets had penetrated both
sides without doing vital damage.  What
was the most serious injury was caused
to the propellers of Nos. 5 and 6 motors,
the feather-edged blades being chipped
by bullets.  Since the spare blades had
already been used earlier in the voyage
replacement was out of the question.
The ragged edges meant at least a reduction
of ten miles an hour, even if the blades did
not fly to pieces when the propellers were
running at maximum speed.\par

During the rest of the night the crew
worked with a will--patching, mending,
and "doping" the holed fabric and
carefully testing each repaired ballonet with
compressed air before refilling it with the
precious brodium.\par

Meanwhile, the Federals brought quantities
of petrol, employing teams of mules
for the purpose, their petrol dump being
a good five miles from the scene of the
"Golden Hind's" unfortunate landing.
Every drop had to be passed through a
fine gauze strainer before being allowed to
enter the tanks, since foreign matter in the
fuel might easily result in motor trouble.\par

Anxious to make amends, the
commandant also presented the baronet with
a quantity of excellent tobacco and cigars,
several native cakes made of maize, an
earthenware bowl filled with good butter,
and a wicker crate of fresh fruit.\par

By dawn the refitting of the "Golden
Hind" was accomplished as far as lay in
the power of the dauntless crew.  Now
came the crucial test: would the airship
rise under the lifting power of the reduced
volume of brodium?\par

At seven o'clock the huge fabric showed
signs of buoyancy.  A quarter of an hour
later the recording instruments showed
that only another thousand cubic feet of
gas was necessary to overcome the force
of gravity.\par

"We haven't that quantity, sir,"
reported Chief Air Mechanic Hayward.
"But I would suggest, sir, that we release
our reserve gas into the for'ard ballonets.
That will lift her nose clear of the ground,
and the propellers will do the rest.  Once
we're up, sir, it will be as easy as shelling peas."\par

"We can but try it," replied Fosterdyke.
"At any rate, if we can make
Panama we will manage with hydrogen
for the remaining ballonets.  Right-o!
Pass the word when you're ready."\par

At seven-thirty the crew were at their
stations.  The for'ard portion of the
airship was straining at the guide ropes.
The declutched motors, purring gently
at a quarter throttle, were awaiting the
order that would transform them into
propulsive forces.  Until the planes could
be brought into action the "Golden Hind"
was much in the nature of a rocket soaring
obliquely under the influence of a
self-contained impulsive charge.\par

Throwing open one of the windows of
the riddled navigation-room, Fosterdyke
surveyed the crowd below.  The Federal
troops, in spite of their bizarre uniforms
and varied equipment, were fairly well
disciplined.  Those not actually engaged
in holding down the airship were formed
up at about fifty yards from the nacelle,
interested spectators of the largest airship
that had ever passed over the territory
of the Central American Republic.\par

"Let go!" shouted the baronet.\par

The order, interpreted by the Creole
who claimed to have a knowledge of
English, was obeyed promptly.  The men
seemed to have an inkling of what would
happen if they did not, and they dropped the
guide ropes as though they were hot irons.\par

Simultaneously, as the bows of the
"Golden Hind" lifted, Kenyon telegraphed
for "full ahead."\par

With four of the propellers purring in
their accustomed way and the two after
ones roaring like gigantic buzzers, as the
jagged edges revolved rapidly in the air,
the "Golden Hind" ascended obliquely,
with her major axis inclined at an angle
of forty degrees to the horizontal.\par

The Federal troops were waving their
nondescript headgear and brandishing
their rifles in token of farewell.
Doubtless they were cheering and shouting also,
but the noise of the airship's propellers
out-voiced all extraneous sounds.\par

At a height of one thousand feet the
six planes were trimmed and brought into
action, with the result that the "Golden
Hind" settled down on almost an even keel.\par

Four minutes later the scene of the
unfortunate "regrettable incident" was
lost to sight.\par

"Thanks be, we're up!" ejaculated Fosterdyke.\par

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CHAPTER XX--WIRELESS REPORTS}

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{\noindent}
"Kenyon!" exclaimed the baronet.\par

"Sir?"\par

"We'll cut Panama," was Fosterdyke's
astounding decision.  "We'll carry straight
away on.  She's doing splendidly, shortage
of brodium notwithstanding.  We've plenty
of fuel, so it's a dash for Madeira."\par

"How about reporting at the Panama
control?" asked Kenneth.\par

"I'll risk omitting that," replied Sir
Reginald.  "Being mixed up in a potty
revolution is quite sufficient excuse for
non-compliance with regulations.  It isn't as
if we were bound to report ourselves, as in
the case of Auckland.  Bramsdean, you
might ask the wireless operator to report us
to Panama, and enquire if there's any news
of our rivals.  Last night's affair has given
von Sinzig a very useful lead, I'm afraid."\par

Peter hastened to give the necessary
orders.  Presently he returned.\par

"No news of the Hun, sir," he reported.
"The Yankee airship made a bad landing
at Port Denison, Queensland, and was
totally destroyed by fire."\par

"Hard lines," remarked Fosterdyke,
feelingly.  "Commodore Nye is a good sport.
I hope he wasn't injured?"\par

"Far from it," replied Bramsdean.  "In
fact he's reported to have cabled to
Melbourne asking the Victorian Government
if they can sell him a Vickers-Vimy, so
that he can continue the contest."\par

"Good luck to him, then!" exclaimed
the baronet.  "And the Jap?"\par

"Looks like a winner, sir," replied
Peter.  "The quadruplane is reported
passing over Calcutta."\par

"Next to beating Fritz myself, the Jap
is the fellow I hope will do it," remarked
Fosterdyke.  "By Jove!  I'd like to know
where von Sinzig is and what he's doing."\par

The "Golden Hind," now virtually a
heavier-than-air machine, was doing her
level best to make up for the unlucky
contretemps that had delayed her for eight
precious hours.  Unaccountably the
reduction of the volume of brodium in her
ballonets, although the rigid aluminium
envelope had not appreciably contracted,
had resulted in a marked increase of speed.
Judging by the time she took to cover the
distance between Panama and Nevis, in
the Lesser Antilles--a distance of 1250
miles--her speed over the water was not
far short of 190 miles an hour.\par

"If those two props had not been
crippled," lamented Kenyon, "we'd be
doing a good two hundred."\par

"I'm content," rejoined Fosterdyke,
"provided we can keep it up.  If we don't lap
Z64 in another twelve hours, you can jolly
well boot me, Kenyon!"\par

A few minutes later the wireless operator
appeared and handed Fosterdyke a long
written message.\par

The baronet's face was a study of varying
emotions as he read the news.  Kenyon,
watching him, wondered what had
happened.  Not that he was surprised; after
the experiences of the last week or so, it
would take something very much out of
the common to take Kenneth Kenyon aback.\par

"Evidently our friend von Sinzig has
butted in where he didn't ought," remarked
Fosterdyke, handing his companion the
slip of paper.\par

It was a general Marconigram
communication to the Press Agency, and read
as follows:\par

"Hobart, Tasmania, Thursday.  The
schooner {\itshape{Myrtle}}, Abraham Prout, master,
arrived here this morning in a damaged
condition.  Her master reports that in
lat. 43° 15' S., long. 141° 20' E., the schooner
was hit by a falling object, which Captain
Prout subsequently brought into port.
Examination showed that the object in
question was an airship observation box
or basket.  In it, fortunately intact, and
with the safety vane locking the detonator-pin,
was an incendiary bomb stamped with
the broad arrow.  Experts here agree that
the bomb is certainly not a British
Government's missile, and by certain markings on
the observation basket it is safe to assume
that it belonged to a German airship.  The
basket and the bomb are being forwarded
to the Commonwealth Air Board Headquarters
at Sydney."\par

Then came another report:\par

"Fremantle, Western Australia,
Thursday.  Investigations amongst the ruins of
the aerodrome destroyed by fire yesterday
morning have resulted in the finding of
the remains of an aerial torpedo bearing
the British Government mark.  This
discovery completely upsets the original
theory as to the cause of the outbreak.
Various rumours are afloat, but pending an
official declaration on the subject, the Press
is requested to confine reports to the actual
known facts.  A further communication
will be made as soon as definite information
is forthcoming."\par

"Yes, von Sinzig is getting desperate,"
remarked Kenyon.  "It's a dead cert that
he thought we were berthed in the
Fremantle aerodrome that night.  But
how in the name of goodness did he get so
far south?  It was reported he went direct
from Java to New Zealand, passing north
of Australia."\par

"He reported, you mean," corrected
Fosterdyke.  "Trying to throw dust in
one's eyes is an old trick of Fritz's.
Personally, I don't believe he took the northern
route, and that he picked up our wireless
announcing our intention of making
Fremantle, and then tried to do us in."\par

"He's done for himself, any old way,"
declared Kenyon.  "I wonder if a Hun
can ever be a sportsman?"\par

"I wonder," echoed the baronet.  "I've
come across a good many Huns during the
last five years, but I'm hanged if I ever
met one who knew how to play the game."\par

Half an hour later the "Golden Hind"
intercepted a wireless message to the effect
that the British, American, and French
Governments had issued joint instructions
for the German airship Z64 to be detained
at the next landing-place.\par

"That looks like business," commented
Kenyon.  "Von Sinzig's out of the running."\par

"Unless he contrives to land in Spanish
territory," added the baronet.  "There
are the Canary Islands, for instance.  He
could, and probably will, claim immunity
as a political offender.  I don't think he
can be extradited.  You see, it has to be
proved to the hilt that he actually and by
deliberate intent dropped a bomb on the
aerodrome.  No, I fancy we haven't lost
our Hun rival yet.  He stands a chance of
romping home, so it's up to us to beat Z64."\par

"I'd like to know what the blighter's
doing now," said Kenneth, tentatively.
"Perhaps he's within fifty miles of us."\par

"Provided he's fifty miles behind us, I
won't worry my head about him," declared
Sir Reginald.  "I'm not particularly keen
on coming in touch with him on a dark
night.  He might try his hand at another
dirty trick."\par

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CHAPTER XXI--VON SINZIG'S BID FOR SAFETY}

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{\noindent}
Count Karl von Sinzig was in a particularly
bad temper.  He had just learned,
by picking up various wireless messages,
that "the cat was out of the bag."  In
other words, the discovery of the lost
observation basket had landed him in a
very awkward predicament.\par

He blamed everyone and everybody save
himself.  The luckless Unter-Leutnant, Hans
Leutter, came in for a very bad time
because he hadn't got rid of the second
bomb.  The petty officer, who had
conscientiously seen that the bottle-screws
securing the basket were properly made
fast, was bullied and browbeaten because
the basket was torn away.  The rest of
the crew, the makers of the airship, and
every person having anything to do with
the aerial contest also came in for abuse.\par

The count was also puzzled at not being
able to intercept any messages from the
"Golden Hind" after the one announcing
her approach to Panama.  Z64 had
reported at Colon, when, according to the
latest information, the British airship was
hard on the heels of her German rival.\par

And now, almost the final straw, came
the general wireless message declaring that
Z64 was proscribed and liable to be detained
should she touch at any place belonging to
either of the {\itshape{entente}} nations.\par

Fosterdyke had accurately gauged his
rival's intentions.  The knowledge that his
guilty secret was out compelled von Sinzig
to change his plans and make for Teneriffe,
whence, having replenished fuel, he ought
to be easily able to complete the last stage
of the round the world voyage.\par

When about 300 miles to the westward
of the Canaries, but farther to the north
than von Sinzig hoped to be, owing to a
strong side-drift, Z64 encountered a violent
storm.  In order to try to avoid the worst
of the terrific wind and rain, the airship
began to ascend, hoping to find better
conditions in the rarefied atmosphere.\par

Z64 was ascending obliquely under the
action of her huge horizontal rudders and
was passing through a dense cloud when a
vivid flash of lightning, followed almost
immediately by a deafening crash of
thunder, appeared to penetrate the airship
through and through.\par

Almost every man on board shouted with
terror.  They were fully convinced that the
hydrogen had ignited.  There was a frantic
rush for the life-saving parachutes, until
Unter-Leutnant Hans Leutter reassured
the panic-stricken crew with the information
that the gas-bag had not taken fire.\par

Meanwhile the airship, left to its own
devices, since the helmsman had abandoned
the wheel, had turned eight degrees to port
and was travelling at a rate of 120 miles
an hour on a course N. by W.\par

Von Sinzig, who "had the wind up" as
badly as anybody, was nowhere to be found
for some time.  Leutter even came to the
conclusion that his superior officer had
leapt overboard when the alarm of fire
had been raised; but after a lapse of
twenty-five minutes the count re-appeared,
looking very grey and haggard.\par

"I think I must have been stunned,
Herr Leutter," he said in explanation.\par

His subordinate accepted the excuse
without smiling incredulously.  He had
seen his chief bolting for his very life.  He
certainly did not look like being stunned.\par

"Take charge for a while," continued
von Sinzig.  "I am not feeling well.  I
must go to my cabin and lie down."\par

He staggered aft along the narrow
catwalk, while the Unter-Leutnant gave
orders for the airship to be brought back
on her original course.\par

It was easier said than done.  The
gigantic gas-bag was see-sawing erratically.
She had difficulty in answering to her
helm, and in spite of the fact that the
horizontal rudders were trimmed for ascending,
the airship was decreasing her altitude.\par

Then reports began to come in from the
still "jumpy" crew.  The engineer
reported that the after propeller was damaged;
another man announced that there was a
large gash in the aluminium envelope, and
that several of the after ballonets were
leaking rapidly.\par

Further examination revealed the grave
fact that one of the propeller blades had
fractured, and the flying piece of metal had
penetrated the gas-bag at about eighty feet
from the after-end.  So great had been the
velocity of the broken blade that it had
practically wrecked every gas compartment
in the stern of the envelope.\par

Unter-Leutnant Leutter sent a man to
inform von Sinzig.  He had to do that,
although he would have preferred to act upon
his own initiative.  He was decidedly "fed
up" with his arrogant and craven skipper.\par

The count arrived quickly.  He led off
by abusing Leutter in front of several of
the crew for having disturbed him; then,
on being told of what had occurred, he
changed completely round and complimented
his subordinate on his sagacity.\par

"Z64's done, Herr kapitan," declared
Hans Leutter.  "She's sinking rapidly.
Half an hour, perhaps, will find her falling
into the sea.  We must take steps to
safeguard ourselves."\par

"Quite true," agreed the count.
"Although there will be enough buoyancy
in the envelope to keep it afloat for
hours--days even.  What do you propose to do?"\par

"Throw overboard everything of a
weighty nature, Herr kapitan," replied
the Unter-Leutnant.  "We can empty the
petrol tanks, since we have no further use
for the motors.  Meanwhile we must send
out a general wireless call for assistance
to all ships within a hundred or two
hundred kilometres of us."\par

Count Karl von Sinzig thought this quite
an excellent idea.  At least, he said so.  At
the back of his mind he had a hazy notion
that even now there was a chance of
winning the Chauvasse Prize.  There was
nothing in the conditions forbidding a
competitor----\par

His ruminations were interrupted by the
appearance of the wireless operator, who
reported that both the transmitter and the
receiver were out of action, and that the
wireless cabin bore signs of having been
struck by lightning.\par

"Can't you effect repairs?" demanded von Sinzig.\par

"I am sorry I cannot, Herr kapitan,"
replied the operator.\par

"A useful wireless man you are!"
commented the count, caustically.\par

The man saluted and backed away
from his chief, congratulating himself that
he had come off so lightly.  But von
Sinzig was rather pleased than otherwise
that the wireless was out of action.  It
furnished him with a good excuse to put a
certain little plan into execution.\par

"Are there any vessels in sight?" he asked.\par

A look-out man had been scanning the
wide expanse of sea for the last ten minutes.\par

"Nothing in sight, Herr kapitan," he announced.\par

By this time Z64 was well beyond the
storm-area.  The sea, now a bare 3000
feet below, was no longer white with angry
crested waves, but by the aid of binoculars
it could be seen that there was a long swell
running.\par

"Then there's nothing to be done unless
we make use of the Albatross," declared
von Sinzig.  "I will go and look for a ship."\par

Hans Leutter and those of the crew who
heard the count's resolve received the
proposal in stony silence.  They all
recognised that their kapitan was violating
the traditions of the sea and the air by
being the first to abandon his command.
Of the crew at least four were capable of
flying the small but powerful monoplane,
so there was no excuse on that score of von
Sinzig being the only man able to take the
Albatross up.\par

In obedience to a peremptory order the
crew hurriedly prepared the monoplane
for her flight.  The Albatross, nominally
used for starting from and alighting on the
ground, was adapted for marine work by
having three small floats, the lower portions
of which were just above the wheel base
line, so that the monoplane could be used
either as an ordinary machine or as a seaplane.\par

In the present circumstances von Sinzig
elected to start from the air.  The
Albatross, suspended by a quick release
gear from the underside of the 'midship
gondola, was ready before the airship had
dropped to a thousand feet.\par

"You will be quite safe," reiterated the
count.  "I'll send the first vessel I meet
to your assistance.  It may be a matter of
a few hours.  All ready?  Let go."\par

The monoplane's motor was already
running slowly.  Directly von Sinzig felt
the Albatross had parted company with
her gigantic parent he opened "all out."  At
a hundred and thirty miles an hour he
was soon lost to sight.\par

"He's going east by north, I notice,"
soliloquised Hans Leutter.  "I will be
greatly surprised if he returns to Z64."\par

And the count was of the same opinion.
He hadn't the faintest intention of flying
back to the airship.  Nor was he
particularly keen on reporting Z64's predicament
to any vessel he sighted.\par

He was out to win the Chauvasse Prize.
The sum went to the man who succeeded
in flying round the world in twenty days.
There was no stipulation to the effect that
only one airship, flying-boat, aeroplane, or
seaplane must be used throughout the
flight.  Therefore, since the goal was within
a comparatively easy distance, he hoped to
complete the circuit in the Albatross, and
thus win the coveted prize.\par

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CHAPTER XXII--THE END OF Z64}

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{\noindent}
"By Jove!  Kenyon, what's that over on
our starboard bow?" exclaimed Bramsdean.\par

Kenneth raised his binoculars and
focussed them on a dark object in the
direction indicated.\par

"That," he replied after a brief survey,
"is a Zepp.  There's not much mistake
about that.  She is also in difficulties
apparently, since Zepps don't generally
assume an angle of forty-five degrees.
It is also reasonable to assume that it is
Z64, since we know that von Sinzig was
keeping a course slightly divergent to ours.
The southerly wind has evidently driven
her northward."\par

Fosterdyke was asleep in his cabin, but
upon hearing the news he hurried to the
navigation-room.\par

"Are we Pharisees or Good Samaritans,
sir?" enquired Kenyon.  "Do we pass by
on the other side, or do we stop to render
assistance?"\par

"It strikes me that something more
than assistance is required," replied the
baronet.  "Obviously our friend von
Sinzig is out of the running.  His airship
is down and out.  If there are any of the
crew on board, we'll be just in time to
prevent them losing the number of their mess."\par

Z64 was in a very bad way.  The after
part of the envelope was half submerged.
The rearmost gondola was entirely so.
The foremost car was rising and falling
owing to the slight buoyancy of the for'ard
ballonets.  At one moment it was thirty
or forty feet above the water, at another it
was smacking the surface and sending the
spray far and wide.\par

"Keep to windward," ordered Fosterdyke.\par

"There are men still on board," replied
Peter.  "A dozen more or less are hanging
on to the catwalk."\par

"It'll be rather a proposition to get them
off," said the baronet.  "We haven't a
boat; neither apparently have they, and
I don't like the idea of running alongside
a half-submerged gas-bag.  With this heavy
swell there's no knowing what might happen."\par

"We might run out a hawser and take
her in tow," suggested Kenyon.  "I mean,
tow her until we get the crew off by means
of an endless line."\par

"Might do," half agreed Fosterdyke.
"It would be decidedly awkward if our
head fell away and we drifted in broadside
on to the wreckage.  We'll try it.  Tell
Jackson to get a hawser ready, and see
there is a slip fitted in case we have to cast
off in a hurry."\par

Already several of the ballonets that at
first sight seemed beyond repair had been
patched up, while the fortunate discovery
of two flasks of compressed brodium gave
the "Golden Hind" considerable buoyancy,
so that she was no longer dependent upon
the lift of her six planes.  Yet the prospect
of having to take on board the weighty
Hun crew would seriously threaten the
buoyancy of the airship.\par

"Luckily we are within sight of our
goal," said Fosterdyke.  "We can sacrifice
a quantity of our stores.  The reserve
fresh water tank can be started, too.
Two hundred and fifty gallons less of water
ought to make a considerable difference."\par

Leading Hand Jackson, with the help of
four or five of the crew, soon made the
necessary preparations.  By this time the
"Golden Hind" had approached to within
a hundred yards of the disabled Zeppelin,
the crew of which, half in doubt as to what
was going to happen, were signalling and
shouting frantically for help.\par

"Rescuing the crew of the {\itshape{Hilda P. Murchison}}
was child's play to this,"
commented Kenyon.  "Goodness only
knows how we are going to establish
communication.  Her blessed envelope is
in the way."\par

Thrice the "Golden Hind" sailed over
her crippled rival.  The trailing hawser
glided over the rounded surface of the
gasbag, but none of the men made any
attempt to leave the gondolas and secure
the rope.  It afterwards transpired that
the aluminium envelope was sagging and
whipping to such an extent that the vertical
shaft through it by which access could be
made to the upper surface of the gas-bag
was impracticable.  Anyone attempting
to ascend by that way would almost
certainly be crushed to death.\par

"Can't the lubbers see the hawser?"
asked Fosterdyke, impatiently.  "Or have
they all got the wind up so frightfully that
they can't lift a hand to help themselves?
Get in that hawser, Jackson.  We'll try
approaching to leeward this time and see
if they've got the sense to veer a rope."\par

The manoeuvre required very careful
execution.  The "Golden Hind," descending
until her fuselage was but a few feet
above the sea, approached carefully.  She
had to be kept under control up to a certain
point, when way had to be taken off her.
If she stopped too soon, she would drift
away before communication could be
established; if she carried on even a few
yards too much, there was a danger of
her overlapping envelope colliding nose on
with the wrecked Zeppelin.\par

This time the Huns showed decided
activity.  They bent a line to an inflated
indiarubber lifebelt and threw the latter
into the sea.  Unfortunately, they did not
take into account the fact that the
Zeppelin was drifting to leeward as fast as the
lifebelt.  When they realised what was
happening one of the crew jumped
overboard and towed the line a hundred yards
or so away.\par

"Now there's a chance of doing something,"
commented Fosterdyke, telegraphing
for a touch ahead with Nos. 1 and 2 motors.\par

As the "Golden Hind" passed
immediately over the life-buoy a grapnel,
lowered from the after-part of the fuselage,
engaged the rope, and in a remarkably
short space of time a stout hawser
connected the British airship with the still
buoyant bows of the German.\par

Fosterdyke waited until the "Golden
Hind" had swung round and was pointing
"down wind," then he ordered easy ahead
with the two for'ard motors.  This gave
sufficient tension to the hawser, which
was now inclined at an angle of about
thirty degrees.\par

A "snatch-block" with an endless line
was then allowed to run down to the hawser.\par

"Now the rest is easy," declared Fosterdyke,
but for once at least he was greatly
mistaken.\par

The first of the Huns arrived in a bowline
on board the "Golden Hind."\par

"How many are there?" asked Fosterdyke.\par

"Ve vos dwanty," replied the German,
holding up the fingers of both hands twice
in order to make his meaning clearer.\par

More Huns emerging from the for'ard
gondola of Z64 confirmed the man's
statement.  One was evidently an officer, but
his features did not in the least resemble
those of Count von Sinzig, whose photograph
had appeared some time back in the
illustrated papers.\par

Seventeen Huns were transhipped in
about as many minutes.  The eighteenth
was half-way along the tautened hawser
when Fosterdyke shouted, "Let go!"\par

Leading-Hand Jackson obeyed the order
instantly.  The ring of the Senhouse slip
was knocked clear, and the hawser fell with
a splash into the sea.  The "Golden Hind,"
released from the drag of the partly
water-logged Zeppelin, shot ahead.\par

She was only just in time.  The baronet
had noticed a tongue of flame issuing from
the centre gondola of Z64.  How the fire
was caused was a mystery, since had the
Huns wished to destroy the wreckage they
would have waited until the last man was
clear of the Zeppelin.  Possibly the wiring
of the electric stove had short-circuited
when in contact with the salt water.\par

In less than fifteen seconds from the
time the hawser had been slipped the
hydrogen escaping from the leaky ballonets
was ignited.  The aluminium gasbag was
surrounded by flames.  The heat caused
the gas in the still intact ballonets to
expand, affording sufficient lifting power to
heave the wreckage almost clear of the
water.  The remaining Huns, keenly alive
to the terrible danger, promptly jumped
into the sea.\par

Then with a terrific glare the remaining
ballonets burst, and the shattered wreckage,
sizzling as it came into contact with the
cold water, disappeared beneath the surface,
leaving a steadily widening circle of oil
surmounted by a dense pall of black smoke
to mark the scene of the end of Z64.\par

Before the evil-smelling vapour had
dispersed the "Golden Hind," turning head
to wind, was over the spot searching for
possible survivors.  For half an hour she
cruised round, but her efforts to rescue
the three Huns were unavailing.  The men
had either been stunned by the explosion
or had been hit by falling wreckage.
Amongst them was Unter-Leutnant Hans
Leutter, who, by resolutely refusing to
leave his command until the rest of the
crew were safe, had proved that all Hun
officers were not of the von Sinzig type.\par

Several of the rescued Germans could
speak English--but they were decidedly
reticent.  In the back of their minds they
rather feared that they were in for a bad
time.  They knew that their late kapitan
had been practically outlawed and that
he was "wanted" by the authorities for
having, amongst other misdemeanours,
destroyed the Fremantle aerodrome by
means of an incendiary bomb.  They rather
expected that they would be blamed for
the acts of their fugitive superior.\par

On the other hand, they were grateful
to their rescuers for having saved their lives,
and with typical Teutonic reasoning they
eventually decided that one way to repay
the kindness and to ingratiate themselves
in the eyes of the Englishman would be to
give away their former officers.\par

The spokesman led off by informing Sir
Reginald Fosterdyke that Unter-Leutnant
Hans Leutter was the person who dropped
the incendiary bomb from the observation
basket in the hope that it would destroy
the "Golden Hind."\par

"He was, of course, acting under Count
von Sinzig's orders," remarked Fosterdyke,
drily.  "Where is Herr Leutter?"\par

"Dead," was the reply.  "He was one
of the three left on Z64."\par

"And Count von Sinzig was one of the other two?"\par

The German airman shrugged his
shoulders and made a gesture of disgust.
He still rankled over his kapitan's cowardly
desertion.  It was long obvious to all the
survivors of Z64 that von Sinzig had no
intention of summoning aid.  Eight hours
had elapsed since he began his flight in the
Albatross.  In that time he must have
sighted several vessels, since the scene of
the disaster was not many miles from one
of the great Atlantic trade routes.\par

"Kapitan Count von Sinzig left Z64 soon
after daybreak this morning, mein Herr,"
replied the German.  "At seven o'clock,
to be exact."\par

"Left--how?" demanded Fosterdyke, sharply.\par

"In an Albatross monoplane.  He was
last seen going east-north-east."\par

Fosterdyke dismissed his informant and
turned to Kenyon and Bramsdean.\par

"The cunning old rascal!" he exclaimed.
"I see his little game now.  He's
completing the final stage by aeroplane.  I
suppose by this time he's won the Chauvasse
Prize; but I don't envy him."\par

"Will you enter a protest, sir?" asked Peter.\par

"Protest?  Not much," replied the
baronet, emphatically.  "These seventeen
Huns can do the protesting if they want to,
and I rather fancy they will."\par

"There's many a slip," quoted Kenyon.
"He may not complete the course after all."\par

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CHAPTER XXIII--A DUMPING OPERATION}

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{\noindent}
The heavily-laden "Golden Hind"
resumed her delayed journey.  Both gas-bags
and planes had to do their full share of
work to keep the airship afloat.  She was
flying low, but making good progress; but
so little was her reserve of buoyancy that
had the three Huns who perished in the
catastrophe to Z64 been saved, it was
doubtful whether Fosterdyke could have "carried on."\par

To make matters worse, some of the
patches on the repaired ballonets were
leaking, for owing to the heat of the rubber
the solution was not holding well.\par

"I wonder if Drake's 'Golden Hind,'
when she arrived in the Thames after
circumnavigating the globe, was patched
up like we are," remarked Kenyon.  "It
took Drake three long years to do the trick,
and we look like completing our voyage
in under seventeen days."\par

"If the old 'bus holds out," added
Bramsdean.  "'Tany rate, no one can say
we haven't done our bit.  The 'Golden
Hind's' been a regular sort of aerial lifeboat.
That is some satisfaction.  I'd rather we
did that than win the race."\par

"I suppose our passengers won't get up
to any of their Hunnish tricks?" observed
Kenneth.\par

"Trust Fosterdyke for that," replied
Peter grimly.  "He's had 'em placed in
the dining-saloon.  (Fortunately, we won't
require many more meals.)  They can amuse
themselves there without getting into
mischief.  There's one of our fellows stationed
outside to keep the blighters in order."\par

Just then the baronet came upon the scene.\par

"Von Sinzig looks like pulling it off,"
he observed.  "A wireless from the
S.S. {\itshape{Wontwash}} reports that a monoplane
passed over the ship at 6 P.M., flying east.
According to the position given, the
{\itshape{Wontwash}} was only thirty-five miles west of
Gibraltar."\par

"Then perhaps he's back at his hangar
by this time," commented Peter.  "Any
news of the others?"\par

"Yes; Commodore Theodore Nye has
been unable to get hold of another 'bus yet,
although two of the Australian R.A.F. pilots
are bringing him a 'Bristol' machine from
Melbourne.  He's out of the running.  That
he admits, but he means to complete the
course, even if it takes him six months."\par

"And the Jap?" asked Kenyon.\par

"Not a word," replied the baronet.
"He's keeping quiet; but mark my words,
that quadruplane will turn up unexpectedly.
If his 'bus had had British motors,
he would have romped home in less than a week."\par

"What engines has he?" asked Bramsdean.\par

"Japanese," replied Fosterdyke.  "Passable
imitations of ours and good up to a
certain point; but give me British engines
all the jolly old time."\par

Although the baronet made frequent
enquiries of the operator, no wireless
messages concerning von Sinzig came through.\par

"Perhaps he's crashed," suggested Peter.\par

"Not he," replied Kenyon.  "That
Hun's got the luck of a cat with nine lives.
He's playing his own game."\par

"It is a game," added Bramsdean.
"Loading that crowd of Huns on to us
is like a man in a mile race chucking his
gear to another competitor and telling him
to hang on.  I don't wish the blighter any
harm, but I do hope that if he pulls off the
money prize they'll pay him in German
marks at the pre-war rate of exchange.
That'd make him look blue!"\par

Although no news came in concerning
their Hun rival, the officers and crew of
the "Golden Hind" began to be
bombarded with wireless messages from Britons
in every quarter of the globe.  All were of
the most encouraging nature, for the story
of Fosterdyke's airship and her adventures
and misadventures--all more or less
distorted owing to the lack of authentic
detail--had awakened world-wide interest.\par

There were cheery messages from
patriotic Britons; incentive ones from
sportsmen, to whom the suggestion of a
race appealed more than did the fact that
the contest was one of endurance
calculated to uphold the prestige of British
flying men.  Frenchmen, Dutchmen,
Norwegians, Americans, and Japanese all
sent greetings to the intrepid British airmen.\par

"Didn't know we had so many friends,"
remarked Fosterdyke.  "Sportsmanlike of
those Americans and Japs, too, when they
have representatives in the show."\par

The "Golden Hind" was now approaching
the regular mail line, where routes to
and from the Cape and round the Horn
unite in the neighbourhood of Las Palmas.\par

"We'll signal the first vessel we sight,"
decided Sir Reginald, "and get her to
relieve us of our cargo of Fritzes.  The
sooner the better, because several of the
ballonets are showing distinct symptoms
of porosity."\par

Five minutes later the airship had slowed
down and had swung round on a course
parallel to a homeward-bound Dutchman.\par

The skipper of the latter, when appealed
to by megaphone, stoutly refused to
receive the seventeen Germans.  He gave
no reason why he should not do so, and
without waiting for further parley rang
for full speed ahead.\par

A little later a French auxiliary barque
was sighted, bound south.\par

Fosterdyke made no attempt to intercept her.\par

"There are limits," he observed.
"Dumping those Huns on board an
outward-bound Frenchman is one of them.
Now for the next vessel.  Three for luck."\par

The third was a British tramp, bound
from Montevideo for Naples.  Her "Old
Man," although ignorant that a Round-the-World
aerial race was in progress or even
in contemplation, readily agreed to help
the "Golden Hind" on her way.\par

"I'll find use for 'em," he added with
infinite relish.  "They'll work their
passage, never you fear.  Three times I've
been torpedoed without warning, and on
two occasions Fritz popped up to jeer at
us struggling in waterlogged boats."\par

While conversation was in progress
between Fosterdyke and the master of
the S.S. {\itshape{Diaphanous}}, a wire hawser had
been lowered from the bows of the airship
and made fast to the tramp's after-winch.
Since she was steaming dead in the eye of
the wind there was no necessity for her to
alter helm.  The "Golden Hind," pitching
slightly, was towed astern of and thirty
feet above the tramp.  As the airship's
course was almost identical with that of
the tramp Fosterdyke conscientiously kept
the propellers revolving, since, even in the
present circumstances, he did not wish to
give his rivals a chance of raising a protest
on the score that the flight of the British
airship had been mechanically aided.\par

The seventeen Germans showed no great
enthusiasm at being placed on board the
tramp.  At first they imagined that the
{\itshape{Diaphanous}} was bound for the Pacific.
Even the prospect of being dumped ashore
at Naples was not at all attractive.\par

When they did make a move they
descended the rope-ladder so slowly and
deliberately that it was obvious they
meant to detain the "Golden Hind" as
much as possible.\par

"I see through their little game,"
exclaimed Fosterdyke, angrily.  "Make 'em
get a move on, Jackson."\par

The Leading Hand wanted no further
bidding.  Ably seconded by Chief Air
Mechanic Hayward, he gave vent to such a
flow of forcible language, accompanied by
realistic dumbshow, that the Huns changed
their tactics completely.  It was even
necessary to check their impetuosity, lest
the ladder should break under the weight of
too many men descending simultaneously.
Then, with a joyous toot on her syren
as the hawser was cast off, and a
stentorian greeting from the Mercantile Marine
skipper, the {\itshape{Diaphanous}} gathered way,
while the "Golden Hind," almost as
buoyant as of yore, rose steadily and rapidly
against the gentle breeze.\par

Two hours later land--the Moroccan
coast--was sighted on the starboard bow.
Then fifty minutes later Fosterdyke touched
Kenyon on the shoulder and pointed dead
ahead to a faint object rising above the
horizon.\par

"Guess we've done the trick, barring
accidents," he observed.  "That's Gibraltar."\par

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CHAPTER XXIV--WITHIN SIGHT OF SUCCESS}

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{\noindent}
Count Karl von Sinzig had not started
upon his long solo flight in the
Albatross without studiously calculating his
chances.  He knew the machine and its
capabilities, and, given ordinary luck, he
saw no reason why he should not make a
landing on Spanish soil, replenish fuel, and
carry on to his hangar in Estremadura
before his hated rival arrived at Gibraltar.
Even if there were delays in obtaining
petrol, he still had a useful lead, thanks to
his twelve hours' start in advance of the
"Golden Hind."  The two hundred extra
miles he had to cover beyond Gibraltar
was a mere bagatelle--a question of an
hour and twenty minutes' flight.\par

He rather regretted that the accident
to Z64 had not occurred nearer the
African coast; but realising that he was
lucky to be able to carry on, he ran the
risk of a prolonged flight over the sea with
comparative equanimity.\par

Within an hour of leaving the wrecked
Zeppelin he sighted two vessels, but with
callous indifference to his promise to his
crew he made not the slightest attempt to
communicate with either of them.  He
was "all out" to win the much-needed
Chauvasse Prize.  Even his indictment by
the various Allied Governments hardly
worried him.  Time to consider what he
should do in the matter when he was safe
on Spanish soil, he decided.\par

The Albatross, one of the best types of
German machines, was practically an
automatic flier.  Von Sinzig could keep her
on her course by an occasional pressure
with his feet upon the rudder-bar, thus
leaving both hands free.  He was able to
eat and drink, to study maps and make
observations without risk of the
monoplane getting out of control, while if
needs be he could leave the pilot's seat,
knowing that the Albatross would hold
on automatically for several minutes with
only a slight deviation in direction and
hardly any difference in altitude.\par

Although only ten degrees north of the
Tropics, it was bitterly cold at ten thousand
feet; but the count had taken due
precautions to combat the low temperature.
He was warmly clad in orthodox flying
kit, including sheepskin boots, fleece-lined
leather jacket and trousers, all
electrically heated.  He had four thermos
flasks filled with hot coffee and a pocket
flask of brandy.  For provisions he carried
concentrated food, beef lozenges, and Strasburg sausages.\par

Hour after hour passed.  The Albatross
was flying magnificently, her pilot holding
on to a compass course, after making due
allowances for the "drift" of the air
current.  He had based this allowance
upon the direction of the wind when he
left Z64; but unknown to him the light
breeze had shifted eight points and was
now blowing slightly ahead of his port
beam.  Then, having backed, it presently
veered six points and blew with increasing
force right against the Albatross; but von
Sinzig was for the present in ignorance
of the fact.  Had he known that instead
of a following breeze of about twenty miles
an hour there was a head wind approaching
the neighbourhood of thirty-five miles,
he would not have been so chock-a-block
with confidence.\par

When, at the end of the time limit he
had set, he was not in sight of land he
began to feel anxious.  Half an hour later,
as he was still without a glimpse of the
coast, his misgivings increased, but ten
minutes later he picked up land on his right.
This was a puzzle.  He had expected to
make a landfall right ahead, and its
appearance in an unexpected quarter mystified
him.  In point of fact he was in the
neighbourhood of Cape Blanco, or nearly 250
miles south of Cape St. Vincent, where he
hoped to pass over on his way to Estremadura.\par

A knowledge of the Moroccan coast
obtained during a cruise in a German
gunboat at the time of the Agadir crisis
stood von Sinzig in good stead.  He was
able to recognise certain landmarks in
spite of viewing them from a different
aspect, and accordingly he turned the
monoplane in a north-easterly direction,
keeping parallel to the African coast,
The new direction would take him a
little to the eastward of Cadiz; rather
nearer that port than Gibraltar.  He had
not the slightest inclination to fly over
the latter fortress.  Rather vaguely he
wondered whether he would sight the
"Golden Hind" making thither, since,
sooner or later, unless a mishap occurred,
the rival aviators must cut each other's routes.\par

He was now painfully aware of the
change of wind.  The direction of the
smoke from several steamers, and the
sight of a full-rigged ship running in a
south-westerly direction told him that.
Additionally, as he saw by the aid of his
binoculars, that sailing ship was running
under topsails only.  That meant something
more than a stiff breeze--and against
this he had to contend.\par

Suddenly he detected an ominous cough
of the motor.  He knew that the petrol
supply was running low, but he had no
idea that the gauge registered so little.
The tank was practically empty.\par

"Himmel!" gasped the dumfounded
Hun.  "Will she last out?"\par

He mentally measured the distance
between him and the Spanish coast.  A good
ten miles.  With a following wind he could
glide that distance from that altitude, but
not with this infernal head wind!\par

The engine was running jerkily.  Clearly
its spasmodic coughing betokened the fact
that it would soon cease duty from sheer
inanition.  Its life-blood was being cut off
at the heart of the machine--its petrol tank.
That head wind.  How von Sinzig cursed
it!  Had it been in his favour, even
if he failed to volplane as far as the
shore, the Albatross, being provided with
floats, could have drifted on the surface.\par

In the midst of his incoherent
utterances von Sinzig realised that the motor
had at last given out.  He trimmed the
ailerons and prepared for a long glide,
but, as he had feared, the head wind made
it a matter of impossibility for the
Albatross to cover more than two miles before
she alighted.\par

It did not take long to complete the
volplane, although the pilot nursed his
machine to the best of his ability in the
hope of prolonging the oblique descent.\par

The Albatross "landed" badly, her
floats striking the water with a resounding
smack.  The count, having done his best,
could do no more.  He sat smoking a
cigarette and keeping a look out for a
vessel that would come to his assistance.
There were several away to the south'ard,
for he had alighted well to the north'ard
of the regular steamer track between
Gibraltar and Cape St. Vincent.  They were
too far off to notice the little Albatross.\par

Then von Sinzig made the disconcerting
discovery that the starboard float was
leaking.  Already, owing to this cause,
the monoplane was listing so that her
starboard wing-tip was touching the water.
This fact, combined with the knowledge
that he was momentarily drifting farther
and farther away from land, did not tend
to improve the Hun's peace of mind.\par

Half an hour later, during which time
the monoplane had drifted at least three
miles, and was being considerably
buffeted by the rising sea, von Sinzig noticed
that a vessel was bearing down upon the
crippled Albatross.\par

As she approached, the count saw that
she was a small motor-yacht of about
forty or fifty tons, and that she was flying
the burgee of the "Real Club Mediterraneo"
and the Spanish ensign.  The sight
of the Spanish colours gave von Sinzig
renewed hope.\par

The yacht slowed down and lost way
a few yards to the wind'ard of the
monoplane.  For so small a vessel she carried
a large crew.  There were half a dozen
men for'ard, clad in white canvas jumpers
and trousers and wearing red woollen
caps.  Aft were two gorgeously attired
individuals in gold-laced yachting uniforms.\par

Von Sinzig, who was a fair Spanish
linguist, hailed them.  A rope thrown from
the bows of the yacht fell across the nose
of the Albatross.  This the count caught
and secured.\par

"Can you supply me with petrol, señor?"
asked von Sinzig.  "My tank is empty.
A hundred litres will be enough."\par

One of the gold-laced men shook his head
and extended his hands, palms uppermost.\par

"I am desolated at being compelled to
refuse your excellency's modest request,"
he replied, "but we have paraffin engines
and carry only a small quantity of petrol
for starting purposes.  How far have you come?"\par

"Nearly round the world," replied the
Hun, grandiloquently.  He could not resist
the typically Teutonic trait of self-advertisement.\par

"Dios!" exclaimed the Spaniard, twirling
his long moustachios.  "Then you are
Count Karl von Sinzig, who left Quintanur,
in the province of Estremadura, sixteen or
seventeen days ago?"\par

"I am," admitted von Sinzig, proudly.\par

The Spaniard said a few words in an
undertone to his companion.  The other's
eyes gleamed and he nodded his head vigorously.\par

"We will take you on board and tow
your machine," announced the owner of
the yacht.\par

"To Cadiz or Huelva?" asked the count.\par

"Accept ten thousand regrets, count,"
replied the Spaniard.  "We must take
you to Gibraltar."\par

"But I have no wish to be taken to
Gibraltar," declared von Sinzig.  "I will
give a thousand pesetas to be landed at Cadiz."\par

The Don again shrugged his shoulders.\par

"No doubt my crew would be glad of
your offer of a thousand pesetas, count,"
he replied, "but since they know that
the English have offered a reward equal
to five thousand pesetas----"\par

"You would sell me?" demanded von
Sinzig, furiously.\par

"I sell you, señor?  Not I--a caballero
of Spain!  You insult me by the suggestion.
I recollect, however, that I once
had a brother.  He was lost at sea, while
travelling on an English vessel from New
York to Cadiz.  Like you, he wanted to
land at Cadiz, but he was not able to do
so.  For why?  Because the ship was
torpedoed by one of your ever-accursed
U-boats.  Therefore I have a small
measure of revenge when I hand you over to
the English authorities at Gibraltar.  Be
pleased, señor, to step aboard."\par

Covered by an automatic pistol, Count
Karl von Sinzig had no option but to obey.
In the race round the world he was down
and out.\par

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CHAPTER XXV--FIRE!}

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{\noindent}
Sir Reginald Fosterdyke laid down his
pencil and uttered an exclamation of intense
satisfaction.  He had just "shot the sun"
and had finished working out his position.\par

"Another hour will see us at Gib., lads,"
he announced joyously.  "Then there'll
be some mafficking.  What's your
programme?  Going to pack your suit cases
and back by the Madrid-Paris express?"\par

"You are not leaving the 'Golden Hind'
at Gibraltar?" asked Kenneth.\par

"No," replied the baronet.  "But I
must certainly get some repairs executed
before I resume my flight to England.  I
thought, perhaps, you were in a hurry to
get home."\par

"There's no immediate hurry, sir,"
declared the chums, simultaneously.\par

"A few more days won't matter," began
Kenyon; but before he could proceed with
his explanation the alarm bell rang
violently and continuously.\par

"What's wrong now?" exclaimed
Fosterdyke, snatching up the voice tube.\par

Peter, glancing aft through the window
of the navigation-room, which being raised
gave a clear view over the roof of the rest
of the nacelle, saw at once what was amiss.\par

Dense volumes of smoke, tinged with dull
red flames, were pouring from the after-end
of the fuselage.  Fanned by the rush of
the airship, the black vapour was streaming
in its wake like a fox's tail.\par

Leaving Kenyon to take charge of the
navigation-room, and cautioning him to
keep the "Golden Hind" dead in the eye
of the wind, and as fast as she could possibly
go, Fosterdyke and Peter hastened aft.\par

They found the alley-way thick with
smoke, for on the well-known principle that
"the wind follows the ship" the draught
was carrying the fumes within the nacelle
in a forward direction.\par

A man wearing a smoke helmet brushed
past them.  It was Hayward going to
find some fire-extinguishers.  Others of the
crew, who had hastily donned masks to
protect themselves from the choking vapour,
were busily engaged in hurling pyrene into
the seat of the conflagration.\par

Although the speed of the "Golden
Hind" through the air fanned the flames,
Fosterdyke had done well to order speed
to be maintained.  The velocity had the
effect of compelling the fire to trail astern
instead of spreading upwards and thus
destroying the envelope.  Even as it was
the heat had caused the non-inflammable
brodium to expand, giving the envelope
a tendency to trim down by the head.\par

"Petrol tank to No. 5 motor, sir,"
reported a grimy and perspiring mechanic,
who through sheer exhaustion and being
partly gassed by the noxious fumes had to
withdraw from the fray.  "Went up all
of a sudden, like.  Never saw such a flare
up in all my life, sir; but we're getting it
under."\par

It was indeed a stiff fight.  In a few
seconds the area of the fire had attained
such large dimensions that it was
impossible to reach the actual source.  The
fire-fighters had first to subdue the fringe
of the conflagration, and by the time they
had done this several of them were {\itshape{hors de
combat}} by reason of the suffocating gases
thrown off by the oxygen-exterminating
pyrene.  Above the crackling of the flames
came the sharp tang of the suspension
wires holding the nacelle to the aluminium
envelope as they parted under the terrific
heat.\par

Not only were the crew faced with the
danger of the fire getting the upper hand;
the while there was the chance of a portion
of the fuselage becoming detached from the
gas-bag, and the prospect of being hurled
through space from a height of eight or
nine thousand feet above the sea was one
that might well in cold blood put fear into
the heart of the bravest of the brave.  But
in the heat of action the crew, knowing the
danger, faced the risk manfully.  Working
in relays, they plied the flames with the
fire-extinguishing chemicals.  As fast as
one man fell out, temporarily overcome
by the fumes and the terrific heat, another
took his place until the fire was overcome.
Even then the danger was not over.  There
was still a possibility of the smouldering
fuselage being fanned into a blaze.  Parts
of the aluminium framework and panelling
were warped and twisted into fantastic
shapes.  Snake-like coils of wire indicated
the fact that several of the highly
important connections between the fuselage
and the envelope had been burnt through.
Whether a sufficient number of tension wires
remained to adequately support the afterpart
of the nacelle remained a matter of doubt.\par

Unaccountably the petrol tank feeding
No. 5 motor had taken fire.  The pipes and
unions had been frequently examined and
found to be in good order.  In fact,
Hayward had personally inspected the fittings
of that particular tank less than a quarter
of an hour before the outbreak.\par

The damage was serious.  Both Nos. 5
and 6 motors were out of action, the former
showing signs of crashing through the
charred framework of the fuselage.  The
flames had spread to Fosterdyke's cabin,
completely gutting it.  Only a few
aluminium frames were left, and these, blackened
and bent, trailed forlornly astern like a
gaunt skeleton.\par

With the contraction of the brodium
after the fire had been quelled the envelope,
instead of tending to tilt aft, now showed a
tendency to droop.  The heat had melted
the solder of the union pipes through which
the gas was passed either to or from the
metal pressure flasks, and several thousand
feet of brodium had escaped.\par

Driven only by four propellers, her
preciously scanty supply of brodium sadly
depleted, and with the controls of the two
after planes damaged by the flames, the
"Golden Hind" was in a perilous state.
She was just able, and no more, to
overcome the attraction of gravity.  How long
she would be able to maintain herself in
the air was a problem of supposition.\par

Had the "Golden Hind" been supported
by hydrogen gas nothing could have saved
her.  The overcoming of the flames was a
triumph for the fire-resisting properties of
brodium.  The patent gas had been put to
one of the severest tests--an actual fire in
mid-air--and had emerged with flying colours.\par

From the time of the alarm being raised
until the fire was subdued only half an
hour had elapsed.  The smoke-grimed and
fatigued crew were glad to rest, while
Fosterdyke and Peter returned to the
navigation-room, there to wash and replace
their singed and reeking clothes with others
from Kenyon's and Bramsdean's kit-bags.
The baronet had to borrow a suit.  The
one he was wearing was in holes, while
all his others on board were destroyed
when his cabin was burnt out.\par

Fosterdyke was cheerful.  In fact he
was jocular.  He realised that things might
have been far worse; he was glad to find
that the "Golden Hind" was still
navigable and that none of his crew had
sustained injury.\par

"This comes of boasting, Kenyon," he
remarked.  "I said we'd be in Gib. in an
hour.  We stood a chance of being in
'Kingdom Come.'  What's she doing now?"\par

"Not more than eighty, sir," replied
Kenneth, "and we've a stiffish wind to
contend with."\par

"Eighty, eh?  Not so dusty, considering
we're trailing the wreckage of my cabin
astern, and there's only four props to
shove us along.  She's dipping, though."\par

"She is, sir," agreed Kenyon, gravely.
"I've trimmed the planes to their
maximum.  That tends to shove her nose
up, but if I didn't she'd sit on her tail."\par

"We'll finish at the tape like an aerial
Cleopatra's Needle," declared Fosterdyke.
"Hello!  There's Tangier.  That strip of
blue you can just see beyond is the Straits
of Gibraltar.  We're a bit to the east'ard
of our course."\par

Another half an hour of strenuous
battling against heavy odds brought the
"Golden Hind" immediately to the west
of Ceuta.  Ahead could be discerned the
famous rock, although viewed from an
altitude and "end on" its well-known
appearance as a lion couchant was absent.
But the "Golden Hind" had shot her bolt.
"We're baulked at the tape," declared
Fosterdyke.  "This head wind's doing us.
Hard lines, but we must take things as we
find them."\par

Like von Sinzig he had been beaten by
the head wind, but Fosterdyke, instead of
raving and cursing like his German rival,
accepted the situation philosophically.  It
was hard lines, failing within sight of the
goal; but the baronet kept a stiff upper lip.
He had done everything humanly possible
to achieve his aim.  He could do no more.\par

The "Golden Hind," inclined at an
angle of sixty degrees, was dropping slowly
but surely.  With her remaining motors
running all out she was unable to overcome
the pull of gravity.  Even as she dropped,
her progress towards her goal was maintained
at a rate of a bare five miles an hour
above and against that of the wind.\par

Every man on board was holding on like
grim death.  With the floor as steep as
the roof of a house there was nothing to be
done but hold on.  The ballonets were
practically empty save the four or five
for'ard ones.  The propellers were now
virtually helices--whirling screws that
strove valiantly but unavailingly to lift the
huge bulk of the airship in an almost
vertical direction.  Should the motors
fail to function, then the "Golden Hind"
would drop like a stone.  As it was
she was falling surely and slowly.\par

Already officers and men had donned
their inflated indiarubber lifebelts.  There
was not the slightest sign of panic.  The
men, although keenly disappointed at
failure within sight of success, were joking
with each other.\par

"Stand by to jump, all hands," shouted
Fosterdyke.  "Keep clear of the raffle,
and you'll be as right as rain.  There are
half a dozen vessels within a couple of miles of us."\par

Some of the men slid along the sloping
alley-way to the side doors.  Others tore
away the large celluloid windows in the
cabins and motor-rooms, so as to be able
to jump clear directly the fuselage touched the water.\par

The two chums had drawn themselves
through the windows of the navigation-room
and were standing on the blunt bows
and steadying themselves by the tension
wires running from the normal top of the
nacelle to the underside of the envelope.\par

With the four motors running to the
last the "Golden Hind" dropped into the
sea.  Her projecting envelope was the first
to come into contact with the water.  The
ballonets, practically air-tight
compartments, checked the downward movement,
while the whole of the hitherto inclined
bulk, pivoted as it were by the water-borne
stern, dropped until it resumed its normal
horizontal position.\par

Fosterdyke alone had remained in the
navigation-room.  Directly he saw that
the airship was resting temporarily on the
surface and was beginning to gather way
like a gigantic hydroplane he switched off
the remaining motors.\par

"Every man for himself," he shouted.\par

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CHAPTER XXVI--"WELL PLAYED, SIR!"}

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{\noindent}
Water poured into the open doors and
windows and through the charred and
torn stern of the nacelle.\par

The aluminium envelope, not built to
withstand abnormal stress, began buckling
amidships.  Tension wires, no longer in
tension but in compression, were spreading
in all directions as the huge gas-bag settled
down upon the already foundering nacelle.\par

Every one of the crew realised the danger
of being entangled in the wreckage.  In a
trice the water was dotted with heads and
shoulders of life-belted swimmers as the
crew struck out to get clear of the sinking
airship, and presently Fosterdyke was
surrounded by a little mob of undaunted men.\par

"Thank heaven!" ejaculated the baronet,
after a hasty count.  "None missing.
Keep together, lads, there's a vessel bearing
down on us."\par

Not one but four craft were hastening
to the rescue.  Amongst these was the
T.B.D. {\itshape{Zeebrugge}}, which, eighteen days
previously, had gone to search for the
derelict "Golden Hind" and had placed
Sir Reginald Fosterdyke on board.\par

Fortunately the water was warm, and
in spite of a fairly high sea running the late
crew of the "Golden Hind" were taken
aboard the destroyer.\par

Fosterdyke and the others, declining to
go below, stood on deck and watched the
end of the airship that had taken them
safely for nearly twenty-eight thousand
miles, to perish within five miles of the
Rock of Gibraltar, her official starting-point.\par

The end was not long delayed.  The
buckling of the aluminium envelope resulted
in ballonet after ballonet collapsing under
the pressure of water.  The fuselage had
already disappeared.  Bow and stern, nearly
four hundred feet apart, reared themselves
high in the air; then, with a terrific rush
of mingled brodium and air that caused a
seething cauldron around each of the
extremities of the envelope, the last of the
"Golden Hind" sank beneath the waves.\par

"Rough luck losing such a fine airship,"
commiserated the Lieut.-Commander of the destroyer.\par

"It is," agreed Fosterdyke, feelingly.
"Especially as she is my own design and
I superintended every bit of her
construction.  It was a pity, too, we didn't
hang on for another half an hour.  I'd have
jockeyed her over the Rock somehow."\par

"It was a brilliant achievement, Sir
Reginald," said the naval officer.  "Every
sportsman will sympathise with you, but
I'm sure they'll shout: 'Well played, sir!'"\par

"Any news of the other competitors?" asked Peter.\par

"Yes.  Commodore Nye, the Yankee,
is still stranded in Australia, but I suppose
you know that.  Count Hyashi, the Jap,
crashed somewhere near Saigon.  He, too,
was almost home."\par

"Jolly hard lines," murmured Kenyon,
sympathetically.  "Was he hurt?"\par

"No, hardly bruised, but a bit shaken.
Engine failure, they say," continued the
Lieut.-Commander.  "That leaves only the
Hun to be accounted for."\par

"And I suppose he's completed the
circuit?" remarked Fosterdyke, questioningly.\par

The naval officer laughed.\par

"Completing the circuit of a prison-yard!"
he exclaimed.  "That's about his
mark.  A Spanish yacht brought Count von
Sinzig in this morning and handed him
over to the Port Admiral.  It'll be a
three years' job, I fancy.  Huns must
learn that they can't bomb British air
stations in peace time with impunity."\par

The destroyer ran alongside the
dockyard.  Fosterdyke and the rest of his
crew disembarked.  On the jetty they
were met by several of the chief Naval,
Military, and Air Force officials and two
representatives of the International Air Board.\par

Fosterdyke looked puzzled.  He didn't
want commiseration, but congratulation
seemed a bit out of place.\par

"On what grounds, Admiral?" he asked.\par

"On winning the Chauvasse Prize for
completing the circumnavigation of the
globe," replied the senior International
Air Board representative, speaking instead
of the Port Admiral.  "Fact!  You've
won it fairly and squarely."\par

"But----" began the astonished baronet.\par

"You have," persisted the official.  "Do
you recollect when the airship broke adrift?
The destroyer went in pursuit and put you
on board.  That was within three miles or
so of Ceuta.  The same destroyer picks
you up out of the water five miles from
'Gib.'  Consequently, you've more than
completed the circuit, and although the
official start was from Gibraltar I don't
think there will be any difficulty in
obtaining the International Air Board's
decision to the effect that you've won."\par

And that was exactly what happened.
Had it not been for Count von Sinzig's
underhand work in employing Enrico Jaures
to cast adrift the "Golden Hind,"
Fosterdyke would not have completed his aerial
voyage round the world.  By the irony
of fate the Hun had enabled his rival to score.\par

Fosterdyke won the Chauvasse Prize
and the honour of being the first man to fly
round the world.  Needless to say Kenyon
and Bramsdean and the rest of the crew
were not forgotten.  Honours were heaped
upon the intrepid airmen.  They were
lionised, fêted, and praised to such an extent
that they were in danger of developing
"swelled heads."\par

But Kenyon and Bramsdean knew that
the achievement would be but a nine days'
wonder.  Having attempted and won, they
were content to return to their profession,
their financial standing much increased
by their shares in the big prize.  They
had enough honours and diplomas to
satisfy them, but what they prized most
was a certificate from the Royal Humane
Society for saving the crew of the {\itshape{Hilda P. Murchison}}.\par

"So, after all," declared Kenyon, "we
did do something useful, old son!"\par


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\bookmark[level=1,page=1]{CONTENTS}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-i-a-startling-proposition]{CHAPTER I--A STARTLING PROPOSITION}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-ii-fosterdyke-explains]{CHAPTER II--FOSTERDYKE EXPLAINS}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-iii-the-golden-hind]{CHAPTER III--THE "GOLDEN HIND"}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-iv-the-departure]{CHAPTER IV--THE DEPARTURE}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-v-first-away]{CHAPTER V--FIRST AWAY}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-vi-z64-scores]{CHAPTER VI--Z64 SCORES}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-vii-delays]{CHAPTER VII--DELAYS}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-viii-cast-adrift]{CHAPTER VIII--CAST ADRIFT}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-ix-the-escapade-of-enrico-jaures]{CHAPTER IX--THE ESCAPADE OF ENRICO JAURES}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-x-under-examination]{CHAPTER X--UNDER EXAMINATION}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xi-with-intent]{CHAPTER XI--"WITH INTENT"}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xii-confidences]{CHAPTER XII--CONFIDENCES}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xiii-the-tail-of-a-cyclone]{CHAPTER XIII--THE TAIL OF A CYCLONE}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xiv-the-boat-s-crew]{CHAPTER XIV--THE BOAT'S CREW}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xv-revelations]{CHAPTER XV--REVELATIONS}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xvi-the-observation-basket]{CHAPTER XVI--THE OBSERVATION BASKET}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xvii-a-surprise-for-captain-prout]{CHAPTER XVII--A SURPRISE FOR CAPTAIN PROUT}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xviii-under-fire]{CHAPTER XVIII--UNDER FIRE}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xix-victims-of-a-revolution]{CHAPTER XIX--VICTIMS OF A REVOLUTION}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xx-wireless-reports]{CHAPTER XX--WIRELESS REPORTS}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xxi-von-sinzig-s-bid-for-safety]{CHAPTER XXI--VON SINZIG'S BID FOR SAFETY}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xxii-the-end-of-z64]{CHAPTER XXII--THE END OF Z64}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xxiii-a-dumping-operation]{CHAPTER XXIII--A DUMPING OPERATION}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xxiv-within-sight-of-success]{CHAPTER XXIV--WITHIN SIGHT OF SUCCESS}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xxv-fire]{CHAPTER XXV--FIRE!}
\bookmark[level=2,dest=chapter-xxvi-well-played-sir]{CHAPTER XXVI--"WELL PLAYED, SIR!"}
\hbox{}
\end{document}

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