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."
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.
"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."
"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."
"I suppose our passengers won't get up to any of their Hunnish tricks?"
observed Kenneth.
"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."
Just then the baronet came upon the scene.
"Von Sinzig looks like pulling it off," he observed. "A wireless from
the S.S. _Wontwash_ reports that a monoplane passed over the ship at 6
P.M., flying east. According to the position given, the _Wontwash_ was
only thirty-five miles west of Gibraltar."
"Then perhaps he's back at his hangar by this time," commented Peter.
"Any news of the others?"
"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."
"And the Jap?" asked Kenyon.
"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."
"What engines has he?" asked Bramsdean.
"Japanese," replied Fosterdyke. "Passable imitations of ours and good
up to a certain point; but give me British engines all the jolly old
time."
Although the baronet made frequent enquiries of the operator, no
wireless messages concerning von Sinzig came through.
"Perhaps he's crashed," suggested Peter.
"Not he," replied Kenyon. "That Hun's got the luck of a cat with nine
lives. He's playing his own game."
"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!"
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.
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.
"Didn't know we had so many friends," remarked Fosterdyke.
"Sportsmanlike of those Americans and Japs, too, when they have
representatives in the show."
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.
"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."
Five minutes later the airship had slowed down and had swung round on a
course parallel to a homeward-bound Dutchman.
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.
A little later a French auxiliary barque was sighted, bound south.
Fosterdyke made no attempt to intercept her.
"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."
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.
"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."
While conversation was in progress between Fosterdyke and the master of
the S.S. _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.
The seventeen Germans showed no great enthusiasm at being placed on
board the tramp. At first they imagined that the _Diaphanous_ was bound
for the Pacific. Even the prospect of being dumped ashore at Naples was
not at all attractive.
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.
"I see through their little game," exclaimed Fosterdyke, angrily. "Make
'em get a move on, Jackson."
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 _Diaphanous_ gathered way, while the "Golden Hind," almost as
buoyant as of yore, rose steadily and rapidly against the gentle breeze.
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.
"Guess we've done the trick, barring accidents," he observed. "That's
Gibraltar."