"Where are we now?" enquired Kenyon on returning to the navigation-room
to relieve his chum as officer of the watch.
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.
"Almost over Algiers, old thing," he replied, pointing to the glaring,
sun-baked Algerian coast. "Hark!"
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.
"Reminds a fellow of old times when the Archies got busy," remarked
Kenyon.
"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."
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.
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.
"You might cast your eye over the signal log-book before you take on,"
remarked Bramsdean.
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.
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.
"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."
"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!"
"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."
"By the by, I see there's no news of Fritz," said Kenneth.
"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."
"Oh, that greasy merchant!" rejoined Kenneth. "How did he get on?"
"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."
"You think he cast us adrift?"
"Without a doubt, old bird."
Kenyon shook his head doubtfully.
"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?"
"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."
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.
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.
"Might work," soliloquised Kenneth, reflectively. "I'll tackle
Fosterdyke about it next time I come across him."
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"Hurt, sir?" asked Kenyon, anxiously.
"Not a bit of it," replied Sir Reginald coolly. "That fellow couldn't
hit a haystack at five yards. Bring him along, men."
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.
The baronet airily swept aside the suggestion.
"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."
"But, dash it all, man!" exclaimed one of the staff officers; "you
aren't going to--to----"
"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."
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.
"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."