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.
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.
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.
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 _entente_ nations.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"I think I must have been stunned, Herr Leutter," he said in
explanation.
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.
"Take charge for a while," continued von Sinzig. "I am not feeling
well. I must go to my cabin and lie down."
He staggered aft along the narrow catwalk, while the Unter-Leutnant gave
orders for the airship to be brought back on her original course.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"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."
"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?"
"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."
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----
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.
"Can't you effect repairs?" demanded von Sinzig.
"I am sorry I cannot, Herr kapitan," replied the operator.
"A useful wireless man you are!" commented the count, caustically.
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.
"Are there any vessels in sight?" he asked.
A look-out man had been scanning the wide expanse of sea for the last
ten minutes.
"Nothing in sight, Herr kapitan," he announced.
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.
"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."
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.
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.
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.
"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."
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.
"He's going east by north, I notice," soliloquised Hans Leutter. "I
will be greatly surprised if he returns to Z64."
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.
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.