Hanging apparently motionless in still air, although virtually she was drifting in a southerly direction at a modest ten miles an hour, the "Golden Hind" maintained her altitude for the best part of half an hour before any attempt was made to start the motors. She was now to all intents and purposes a non-dirigible balloon, floating aimlessly in the air.

Peter Bramsdean, his work aft accomplished, made his way to the navigation-room, where he found the baronet and Kenyon watching the galaxy of lights far beneath them.

"We're drifting over Poole Harbour," observed Fosterdyke. "That's prohibited for private owned aircraft; but who's to know?"

"I often wonder what would happen," said Peter, "if a non-dirigible drifted over a prohibited area. Hang it all! The balloonist couldn't control the wind, neither can the Air Ministry, so what's the poor fellow to do?"

From their lofty post of observation the officers of the "Golden Hind" could see the coast-line standing out distinctly in the starlight. Away to the south-east the powerful St. Catherine's Light threw its beam athwart the sky in a succession of flashes every five seconds. Nearer, but less distinct, could be seen the distinctive lights of The Needles and Hurst Castle. Then a curved line of glittering pin-points--the esplanade lamps of Bournemouth. To the south-west the lesser glare of Swanage and beyond the glow of Anvil Point Lighthouse. Lesser lights, like myriads of glow-worms, denoted scattered towns, villages, and detached houses ashore, while right ahead and for the most part visible only by the aid of binoculars, could be discerned the red, green, and white navigation lights of shipping passing up and down the Channel.

The three men watched the nocturnal panorama almost without emotion. The sight would have moved a novice into raptures of delight, but to the veteran airmen there was little new, except perhaps that in the place of star-shells, searchlights, "flaming-onions," and exploding shrapnel were the lights of a nation once more at peace with her neighbours even if not so with herself.

Fosterdyke glanced at a clock set upon the bulkhead.

"Time!" he announced laconically.

Indicators clanged in various parts of the ship. Within a few seconds the six motors, started by compressed air, were roaring. Swaying slightly under the resistance of the gas-bag overhead, the airship gathered way. In place of complete calm came the rush and whine of the wind as the "Golden Hind" leapt forward.

"May as well be on the safe side," remarked Fosterdyke. "Switch on the navigation lights, Kenyon. I don't fancy another 'bus barging into us."

He gave an order through a voice tube. Promptly one of the crew appeared from below.

"Take her, Taylor," said the skipper, indicating the helm. "Following wind--no drift. Course S. ¾ W."

"S. ¾ W. it is, sir," repeated the man, peering into the bowl of the gyroscope compass.

"Now, you bright beauties, take my tip and turn in," said Fosterdyke, addressing Peter and Kenneth. "There won't be much doing to-night, I hope, so you may as well make the best of things. If you'll relieve me at four, Kenyon? ... Good."

The chums left the navigation-room and made their way to their cabin. Here, although adjoining one of the motor-rooms, there was comparatively little vibration, but the noise was considerable.

"We'll get used to it," observed Peter, as he proceeded to unpack his luggage, which had been brought from Blandford station and put on board only a few minutes before the "Golden Hind" parted company with terra firma. "Seems like old times. Hanged if I thought I'd ever be up again."

"Between ourselves I'd prefer a 'bus," confided Kenyon. "Doesn't seem quite the right thing being held up by a gas-bag."

"Be thankful for small mercies, you old blighter!" exclaimed his companion. "Turn in as sharp as you can, 'cause it's your watch in four hours' time."

It seemed less than ten minutes before Kenyon was awakened. His first impression was that he was being roused by his batman, and that illusion was heightened by the fact that the man held a cup of tea.

"Ten to four, sir," announced the airman. "I've made you something hot."

Kenneth thanked the man, drank the tea, and slipped out of his bunk. He was aware as he donned his clothes that the "Golden Hind" was pitching considerably. Peter, sound asleep, was breathing deeply. There was a smile on his face; evidently his dreams were pleasant ones.

On his way for'ard Kenyon stopped to exchange a few words with the air-mechanic tending the two after motors.

"Running like clocks, sir," replied the man in answer to Kenneth's enquiry. "If things go on as they are going now, I'm on a soft job."

The first streaks of dawn were showing in the north-eastern sky as the relieving pilot clambered up the ladder and gained the navigation-room. Fosterdyke, busy with parallel rulers and compass was bending over a chart.

"Mornin'," he remarked genially, when he became aware of the presence of his relief. "Everything O.K. Doing eighty, and there's a stiff following wind--force five. Altitude 5500, course S. ¾ W. That's the lot, I think. We ought to be sighting the Spanish coast in another twenty minutes."

Fosterdyke waited until the helmsman had been relieved, then, giving another glance ahead, he turned to Kenyon.

"We passed something going in a westerly direction at 1.15 A.M.," he announced. "An airship flying fairly low. About 2000, I should think."

"Not a competitor, sir?"

"Hardly. No one but a born fool would think of taking a westerly course round the earth if engaged in a race against time. We were passing over Belle Isle, on the French coast, at the time, and it rather puzzled me why an airship should be proceeding west from the Biscayan coast."

"French patrol, possibly," suggested Kenyon.

"Or a Hun running a cargo of arms and ammunition to Ireland. I signalled her, but she didn't reply. Right-o! Carry on."

Fosterdyke went to his cabin, to sleep like a log. He was one of those fortunate individuals who can slumber almost anywhere and at any time, but rarely if ever did he sleep for more than five hours at a stretch. Even after a strenuous day's mental and physical work he would be "as fresh as paint" after his customary "caulk."

Left in the company of the airman at the helm, Kenyon prepared to accept responsibility until eight o'clock. He took up his position at the triplex glass window, the navigation-room being the only compartment where celluloid was not employed for purposes of lighting. It was a weird sight that met his gaze. Overhead and projecting from beyond the point of the nacelle was the blunt nose of the gas-bag, the port side tinted a rosy red as the growing light glinted on it, the starboard side showing dark grey against the sombre sky. A thousand feet below were rolling masses of clouds, their nether edges suffused by dawn. Between the rifts in the bank of vapour was apparently a black, unfathomable void, for as yet the first signs of another day were vouchsafed only to the airman flying far above the surface of the sea. Already the stars had paled before the growing light. Wisps of vapour--clouds on a higher plane to the denser ones below--were trailing athwart the course of the "Golden Hind," until, overtaken by the airship's high speed, they were parted asunder, to follow in the eddying wake of the powerful propellers.

In the navigation-room, being placed right for'ard, the jerky motion of the fuselage that was noticeable in Kenyon's cabin was greatly exaggerated. It was a totally different sensation from being in an aeroplane when the 'bus entered a "pocket." It reminded Kenyon of a lift being alternately started up and down with only a brief interval between. Rather vaguely the pilot wondered what he would be like at the end of twenty-one days of this sort of thing.

"Bucking a bit, isn't she, Thompson?" he remarked to the helmsman, who, relieved of the responsibility of maintaining a constant altitude by the fact that the airship was automatically controlled in that direction, was merely keeping the vessel on her compass course.

"Yes, sir," replied the man. "She'll be steadier when we trim the planes."

"Might have thought of that before," soliloquised Kenyon. He remarked that the six "wings" were secured in a horizontal position. For the present the "Golden Hind" was kept up solely by the lift of the brodium in the ballonets. Not until it was fully light would Fosterdyke reduce the gas in the ballonets and rely upon the planes for "lift."

A quarter of an hour later, while Kenyon was engaged in making an entry in the log, the helmsman reported land ahead.

The "Golden Hind" was approaching the Spanish coast, not in the hostile way in which her namesake did, but on a friendly voyage across a country that, if not exactly an ally, is bound by strong ties to Great Britain.

The airship was soon passing over Santander. Ahead the Cantabrian Mountains reared themselves so high in the air that the "Golden Hind" had to ascend another three thousand feet to ensure an easy crossing.

At eight o'clock Fosterdyke appeared in the navigation-room. Under his orders the airship's speed had been sensibly diminished. He intended to put to a practical test the lifting powers of the six planes.

Close behind him came Bramsdean, on whom the duties of officer of the watch devolved for the next four hours.

"Well, old bird," he observed, genially addressing his chum. "How goes it?"

"Fresh as paint," replied Kenyon, "but as hungry as a hunter."

"Then hook it," continued Peter. "The cook's dished up a sumptuous breakfast."

Kenyon made a hurried but ample meal. He was anxious to see how the "Golden Hind" manoeuvred as an aeroplane.

Upon returning to the navigation-room he found that the six comparatively small wings were being tilted to an effective angle, while a large quantity of brodium was being exhausted from the alternate ballonets into the pressure-flasks, until there was only enough "lift" remaining in the envelope to prevent it dropping earthwards and thus disturbing the stability of the fuselage by acting as top-hamper.

Simultaneously instructions were telegraphed to the air mechanics standing by the six motors to increase the number of revolutions.

The change was instantly appreciable. No longer did the "Golden Hind" pitch. She settled down to a rapid, steady motion, her speed being not far short of 150 miles an hour.

"No ailerons," explained Fosterdyke. "Horizontal and vertical rudders only. Saves a lot of trouble and complication of gear."

"Stunts not permissible, sir?" asked Kenyon.

"No," he replied. "They are not. We're out to do something definite, not to let the Spanish have an exhibition of an airship making a spinning nose-dive or looping the loop. But we'll do a volplane, just to test the gliding powers of the 'bus."

He touched a switch by which a warning bell rang in each of the motor rooms. This was to inform the mechanics that the electric current would be simultaneously cut off from the six motors, so that there would be no need on their part to endeavour to locate faults that did not exist.

"Cut out!" ordered Fosterdyke.

Bramsdean promptly depressed a small switch by the side of the indicator-board. This automatically cut off the ignition. The propellers made a few more "revs." and then came to a standstill. In almost absolute silence, save for the whine of the wind in the struts and tension wires the "Golden Hind" began her long, oblique glide earthward.

Suddenly Kenyon gripped the baronet's arm.

"Look!" he exclaimed. "Airship!"

Fosterdyke did as requested. The "Golden Hind" was manoeuvring high above La Mancha, the undulating well-watered plain between the Montes del Toledo and the Sierra Morena. Six thousand feet beneath the airship the town of Ciudad Real glinted in the slanting rays of the morning sun.

"Our shadow--that's all," declared Fosterdyke.

"No, not that," protested Kenneth. "More to the left."

He grasped a pair of binoculars and looked at the object that had attracted his attention. It was a somewhat difficult matter, owing to the refraction of the triplex glass in front of the navigation-room, where, in contrast to the rest of the windows, fire-proofed celluloid had not been employed.

Before Kenyon had got the airship in focus the baronet had also spotted it. Apparently it had just left its shed and was heading in a south-easterly direction, differing a good four points from that followed by the "Golden Hind."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Kenyon. "It's a Fritz! I can spot the black crosses on the envelope."

"In that case," added Fosterdyke, calmly, "Count Karl von Sinzig has stolen a march on us. He's one up!"