The Airship "Golden Hind" Part 17

"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 j.a.p, Count Hyas.h.i.+. 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 compet.i.tors 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 airs.h.i.+p, which was now on a diverging course, the four machines with admirable precision turned and accompanied the British airs.h.i.+p.

Two took up station on either side of the "Golden Hind." Each flew the New Zealand ensign. It was Fosterd.y.k.e'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 Fosterd.y.k.e, 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 airs.h.i.+p 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 airs.h.i.+p'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 airs.h.i.+ps.

Vainly the wireless operators of the "Golden Hind" sought to "pick up"

the Zeppelin. Von Sinzig had seen to that, for directly the German airs.h.i.+p 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 airs.h.i.+p 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. Fosterd.y.k.e, 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 airs.h.i.+p 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 airs.h.i.+p is beyond reach of Father Neptune and his merry myrmidons. And the Doldrums, instead of being regarded as a terror, afford an easy pa.s.sage 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 alt.i.tude, 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, Fosterd.y.k.e 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 Fosterd.y.k.e 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 airs.h.i.+p 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 Fosterd.y.k.e 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 Fosterd.y.k.e. "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 Fosterd.y.k.e. "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 airs.h.i.+p 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 airs.h.i.+p 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 Fosterd.y.k.e. "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 airs.h.i.+p was quickly drawn earthwards at far too great a speed to please Sir Reginald Fosterd.y.k.e.

"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 a.s.sailed the airs.h.i.+p on all sides.

"Up with her!" shouted Fosterd.y.k.e. "Charge all the ballonets. We've struck a revolution."

CHAPTER XIX--VICTIMS OF A REVOLUTION

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 airs.h.i.+p 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.

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.

Fortunately for the safety of the airs.h.i.+p'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 airs.h.i.+p.