"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.
"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."
"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."
"Aeroplane approaching, sir," reported Collings.
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.
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.
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.
"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."
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.
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.
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.
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.
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."
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.
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
_Bounty_--no land was sighted until Galapagos Group was seen ten miles
on the starboard bow.
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.
"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."
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.
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.
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.
"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."
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.
"Hanged if I can see any searchlights," exclaimed Bramsdean.
"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?"
The wireless operator had left his cabin and was standing behind
Fosterdyke as the latter was peering through the darkness.
"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."
"Inconsiderate blighters!" exclaimed Fosterdyke. "Never mind, Truscott,
we can get along all right now. I fancy I can see the aerodrome
lights."
"Yes, sir," agreed Kenyon. "One point on our port bow now."
"Then fire the rockets," ordered the baronet, at the same time
telegraphing for the motors to be declutched.
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.
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.
"Guess Uncle Sam can't count," remarked Kenyon, imitating to perfection
the nasal drawl of the typical New Englander.
"Looks to me like shrapnel," added Bramsdean. "Judging by the way the
smoke mushroomed, it reminds me of Archies over the Hun lines."
"Good enough, we'll drop gently," decided Fosterdyke. "Stand by with
the holding-down lines and have a couple of grapnels ready."
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.
Within five minutes she entered the belt of mist--a warm,
sickly-smelling atmosphere that reminded Kenyon of a hot-house.
"I hear voices," announced Peter.
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.
"Ahoy, there!" hailed Fosterdyke. "Stand by to take our ropes."
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.
"Gently," he shouted. "Avast heaving."
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.
"Up with her!" shouted Fosterdyke. "Charge all the ballonets. We've
struck a revolution."