For a time Alcock and I attempted short conversations through the telephone. Its earpieces were under our fur caps, and round our necks were sensitive receivers for transmitting the throat vibrations that accompany speech. At about six o'clock Alcock discarded his earpieces because they were too painful; and for the rest of the flight we communicated in gestures and by scribbled notes.

I continued to keep the course by "dead reckoning," taking into account height, compass bearing, strength of wind, and my previous observations. The wind varied quite a lot, and several times the nose of the Vickers-Vimy swayed from the right direction, so that I had to make rapid mental allowances for deviation.

The results I made known to Alcock by passing over slips of paper torn from my notebook. The first of these was the direction: "Keep her nearer 120 than 140."

The second supplied the news that the transmitter was useless: "Wireless generator smashed. The propeller has gone."

Throughout the evening we flew between a covering of unbroken cloud and a screen of thick fog, which shut off the sea completely. My scribbled comment to the pilot at 5:45 was: "I can't get an obs. in this fog. Will estimate that same wind holds and work by dead reckoning."

Despite the lack of external guidance, the early evening was by no means dull. Just after six the starboard engine startled us with a loud, rhythmic chattering, rather like the noise of machine-gun fire at close quarters. With a momentary thought of the engine trouble which had caused Hawker and Grieve to descend in mid-Atlantic, we both looked anxiously for the defect.

This was not hard to find. A chunk of exhaust pipe had split away, and was quivering before the rush of air like a reed in an organ pipe. It became first red, then white-hot; and, softened by the heat, it gradually crumpled up. Finally it was blown away, with the result that three cylinders were exhausting straight into the air, without guidance through the usual outlet.

The chattering swelled into a loud, jerky thrum, much more prominent than the normal noise of a Rolls-Royce aËro-engine. This settled down to a steady and continuous roar.

Until we landed nothing could be done to the broken exhaust pipe, and we had to accept it as a minor disaster, unpleasant but irremediable. Very soon my ears had become so accustomed to the added clamor that it passed unnoticed.

I must admit, however, that although my mind contained no room for impressions dealing with incidents not of vital importance, I was far from comfortable when I first observed that a little flame, licking outward from the open exhaust, was playing on one of the cross-bracing wires and had made it red-hot. This trouble could not be lessened by throttling down the starboard engine, as in that case we should have lost valuable height.

The insistent hum of the engines, in fact, made the solitude seem more normal. The long flight would have been dreadful had we made it in silence; for, shut off as we were from sea and sky, it was a very lonely affair. At this stage the spreading fog enveloped the Vickers-Vimy so closely that our sheltered cockpit suggested an isolated but by no means cheerless room.

Moisture condensed on goggles, dial glasses and wires when, at about seven, we rose through a layer of clouds on the two thousand foot level. Alcock wore no goggles, by the way, and I made use of mine only when leaning over the side of the fuselage to take observations.

Emerging into the air above the clouds, I looked upward, and found another stretch of cloud-bank still higher, at five thousand feet. We thus remained cut off from the sun. Still guided only by "dead reckoning," the Vickers-Vimy continued along the airway between a white cloud-ceiling and a white cloud-carpet.

I was very anxious for an opportunity to take further observations either of the sun or of the stars, so as to check the direction by finding our correct position. At 7:40 I handed Alcock the following note: "If you get above clouds we will get a good fix [1] to-night, and hope for clear weather to-morrow. Not at any risky expense to engines though. We have four hours yet to climb."

The altimeter was then registering three thousand feet.

All this while I had listened occasionally for wireless messages, as the receiver was still in working order. No message came for us, however, and the only sign of life was when, at 7:40, I heard somebody calling "B. M. K." Even that small sign of contact with life below cheered me mightily.

Throughout the journey we had no regular meals, but ate and drank in snatches, whenever we felt so inclined. It was curious that neither of us felt hungry at any time during the sixteen hours of the flight, although now and then I felt the need of something to drink.

The food was packed into a little cupboard behind my head, on the left-hand side of the fuselage. I reached for it at about 7:30, and, deciding that Alcock must need nourishment, I passed him two sandwiches and some chocolate, and uncorked the thermos flask. He made use of only one hand for eating and drinking, keeping the other on the control lever.

We happened upon a large gap in the upper layer of clouds at 8:30. Through it the sun shone pleasantly, projecting the shadow of the Vickers-Vimy on to the lower layer, over which it darted and twisted, contracting or expanding according to the distortions on the cloud-surface.

I was able to maintain observation on the sun for some ten minutes. The calculations thus obtained showed that if we were still on the right course the machine must be farther east than was indicated by "dead reckoning." From this I deduced that the strength of the wind must have increased rather than fallen off, as had been prophesied in the report of the meteorological expert at St. John's. This supposition was borne out by the buffetings which, from time to time, swayed the Vickers-Vimy. Up till then our average speed had been one hundred and forty-three knots.

I got my observations of the sun while kneeling on the seat and looking between the port wings. I made use of the spirit level, as the horizon was invisible and the sextant could therefore not be used.

Later, I caught sight of the sea for a few brief moments, and at 9:15 I wrote the following note to Alcock: "Through a rather bad patch I have just made our ground speed 140 knots, and from the sun's altitude we must be much further east and south than I calculated."

I continued to keep a log of our movements and observations, and at 9:20 P. M. made the following entry: "Height 4,000 feet. Dense clouds below and above. Got one sun observation, which shows that dead reckoning is badly out. Shall wait for stars and climb. At 8:31 position about 49 deg. 31 minutes north, 38 deg. 35 minutes west."

The clouds above remained constant, at a height of about five thousand feet. I was eager to pass through them before the stars appeared; and at nine-thirty, when the light was fading, I scribbled the inquiry: "Can you get above these clouds at, say, 60°? We must get stars as soon as poss."

Alcock nodded, and proceeded to climb as steeply as he dared. Twilight was now setting in, gradually but noticeably. Between the layers of cloud the daylight, although never very good, had until then been strong enough to let me read the instruments and chart. At ten o'clock this was impossible without artificial light.

For my chart I now used an electric lamp. I switched on a tiny bulb which was placed so as to make the face of the compass clear in the dark, all the other fixed instruments being luminous in themselves. For my intermittent inspection of the engines I had to flash the electric torch over either side of the cockpit.

The clouds, both above and below, grew denser and darker. One could see them only as indefinite masses of nebulousness, and it became more and more difficult to judge how near to or how far from them we were. An entry in my log, made at 10:20, says, "No observations, and dead reckoning apparently out. Could not get above clouds for sunset. Will wait check by stars."

An hour later we had climbed to five thousand two hundred feet. But still we found clouds above us; and we continued to rise, so as to be above them in time for some early observations on the stars.

It was now quite dark; and as we droned our isolated way eastward and upward, nothing could be seen outside the cockpit, except the inner struts, the engines, the red-glowing vapor ejected through the exhaust pipes, and portions of the wings, which glistened in the dim moonglimmer.

I waited impatiently for the first sight of the moon, the Pole Star, and other night-time friends of every navigator.