CHAPTER XXV--FIRE!
Sir Reginald Fosterdyke laid down his pencil and uttered an exclamationof intense satisfaction. He had just "shot the sun" and had finishedworking out his position.
"Another hour will see us at Gib., lads," he announced joyously. "Thenthere'll be some mafficking. What's your programme? Going to pack yoursuit cases and back by the Madrid-Paris express?"
"You are not leaving the 'Golden Hind' at Gibraltar?" asked Kenneth.
"No," replied the baronet. "But I must certainly get some repairsexecuted before I resume my flight to England. I thought, perhaps, youwere in a hurry to get home."
"There's no immediate hurry, sir," declared the chums, simultaneously.
"A few more days won't matter," began Kenyon; but before he couldproceed with his explanation the alarm bell rang violently andcontinuously.
"What's wrong now?" exclaimed Fosterdyke, snatching up the voice tube.
Peter, glancing aft through the window of the navigation-room, whichbeing raised gave a clear view over the roof of the rest of the nacelle,saw at once what was amiss.
Dense volumes of smoke, tinged with dull red flames, were pouring fromthe after-end of the fuselage. Fanned by the rush of the airship, theblack vapour was streaming in its wake like a fox's tail.
Leaving Kenyon to take charge of the navigation-room, and cautioning himto keep the "Golden Hind" dead in the eye of the wind, and as fast asshe could possibly go, Fosterdyke and Peter hastened aft.
They found the alley-way thick with smoke, for on the well-knownprinciple that "the wind follows the ship" the draught was carrying thefumes within the nacelle in a forward direction.
A man wearing a smoke helmet brushed past them. It was Hayward going tofind some fire-extinguishers. Others of the crew, who had hastilydonned masks to protect themselves from the choking vapour, were busilyengaged in hurling pyrene into the seat of the conflagration.
Although the speed of the "Golden Hind" through the air fanned theflames, Fosterdyke had done well to order speed to be maintained. Thevelocity had the effect of compelling the fire to trail astern insteadof spreading upwards and thus destroying the envelope. Even as it wasthe heat had caused the non-inflammable brodium to expand, giving theenvelope a tendency to trim down by the head.
"Petrol tank to No. 5 motor, sir," reported a grimy and perspiringmechanic, who through sheer exhaustion and being partly gassed by thenoxious fumes had to withdraw from the fray. "Went up all of a sudden,like. Never saw such a flare up in all my life, sir; but we're gettingit under."
It was indeed a stiff fight. In a few seconds the area of the fire hadattained such large dimensions that it was impossible to reach theactual source. The fire-fighters had first to subdue the fringe of theconflagration, and by the time they had done this several of them were_hors de combat_ by reason of the suffocating gases thrown off by theoxygen-exterminating pyrene. Above the crackling of the flames came thesharp tang of the suspension wires holding the nacelle to the aluminiumenvelope as they parted under the terrific heat.
Not only were the crew faced with the danger of the fire getting theupper hand; the while there was the chance of a portion of the fuselagebecoming detached from the gas-bag, and the prospect of being hurledthrough space from a height of eight or nine thousand feet above the seawas one that might well in cold blood put fear into the heart of thebravest of the brave. But in the heat of action the crew, knowing thedanger, faced the risk manfully. Working in relays, they plied theflames with the fire-extinguishing chemicals. As fast as one man fellout, temporarily overcome by the fumes and the terrific heat, anothertook his place until the fire was overcome. Even then the danger was notover. There was still a possibility of the smouldering fuselage beingfanned into a blaze. Parts of the aluminium framework and panellingwere warped and twisted into fantastic shapes. Snake-like coils of wireindicated the fact that several of the highly important connectionsbetween the fuselage and the envelope had been burnt through. Whether asufficient number of tension wires remained to adequately support theafterpart of the nacelle remained a matter of doubt.
Unaccountably the petrol tank feeding No. 5 motor had taken fire. Thepipes and unions had been frequently examined and found to be in goodorder. In fact, Hayward had personally inspected the fittings of thatparticular tank less than a quarter of an hour before the outbreak.
The damage was serious. Both Nos. 5 and 6 motors were out of action,the former showing signs of crashing through the charred framework ofthe fuselage. The flames had spread to Fosterdyke's cabin, completelygutting it. Only a few aluminium frames were left, and these, blackenedand bent, trailed forlornly astern like a gaunt skeleton.
With the contraction of the brodium after the fire had been quelled theenvelope, instead of tending to tilt aft, now showed a tendency todroop. The heat had melted the solder of the union pipes through whichthe gas was passed either to or from the metal pressure flasks, andseveral thousand feet of brodium had escaped.
Driven only by four propellers, her preciously scanty supply of brodiumsadly depleted, and with the controls of the two after planes damaged bythe flames, the "Golden Hind" was in a perilous state. She was justable, and no more, to overcome the attraction of gravity. How long shewould be able to maintain herself in the air was a problem ofsupposition.
Had the "Golden Hind" been supported by hydrogen gas nothing could havesaved her. The overcoming of the flames was a triumph for thefire-resisting properties of brodium. The patent gas had been put toone of the severest tests--an actual fire in mid-air--and had emergedwith flying colours.
From the time of the alarm being raised until the fire was subdued onlyhalf an hour had elapsed. The smoke-grimed and fatigued crew were gladto rest, while Fosterdyke and Peter returned to the navigation-room,there to wash and replace their singed and reeking clothes with othersfrom Kenyon's and Bramsdean's kit-bags. The baronet had to borrow asuit. The one he was wearing was in holes, while all his others onboard were destroyed when his cabin was burnt out.
Fosterdyke was cheerful. In fact he was jocular. He realised thatthings might have been far worse; he was glad to find that the "GoldenHind" was still navigable and that none of his crew had sustainedinjury.
"This comes of boasting, Kenyon," he remarked. "I said we'd be in Gib.in an hour. We stood a chance of being in 'Kingdom Come.' What's shedoing now?"
"Not more than eighty, sir," replied Kenneth, "and we've a stiffish windto contend with."
"Eighty, eh? Not so dusty, considering we're trailing the wreckage ofmy cabin astern, and there's only four props to shove us along. She'sdipping, though."
"She is, sir," agreed Kenyon, gravely. "I've trimmed the planes to theirmaximum. That tends to shove her nose up, but if I didn't she'd sit onher tail."
"We'll finish at the tape like an aerial Cleopatra's Needle," declaredFosterdyke. "Hello! There's Tangier. That strip of blue you can justsee beyond is the Straits of Gibraltar. We're a bit to the east'ard ofour course."
Another half an hour of strenuous battling against heavy odds broughtthe "Golden Hind" immediately to the west of Ceuta. Ahead could bediscerned the famous rock, although viewed from an altitude and "end on"its well-known appearance as a lion couchant was absent. But the "GoldenHind" had shot her bolt. "We're baulked at the tape," declaredFosterdyke. "This head wind's doing us. Hard lines, but we must takethings as we find them."
Like von Sinzig he had been beaten by the head wind, but Fosterdyke,instead of raving and cursing like his German rival, accepted thesituation philosophically. It was hard lines, failing within sight ofthe goal; but the baronet kept a stiff upper lip. He had done everythinghumanly possible to achieve his aim. He could do no more.
The "Golden Hind," inclined at an angle of sixty degrees, was droppingslowly but surely. With her remaining motors running all out she wasunable to overcome the pull of gravity. Even as she dropped, herprogress towards her goal was maintained at a rate of a bare five milesan hour a
bove and against that of the wind.
Every man on board was holding on like grim death. With the floor assteep as the roof of a house there was nothing to be done but hold on.The ballonets were practically empty save the four or five for'ard ones.The propellers were now virtually helices--whirling screws that strovevaliantly but unavailingly to lift the huge bulk of the airship in analmost vertical direction. Should the motors fail to function, then the"Golden Hind" would drop like a stone. As it was she was falling surelyand slowly.
Already officers and men had donned their inflated indiarubberlifebelts. There was not the slightest sign of panic. The men,although keenly disappointed at failure within sight of success, werejoking with each other.
"Stand by to jump, all hands," shouted Fosterdyke. "Keep clear of theraffle, and you'll be as right as rain. There are half a dozen vesselswithin a couple of miles of us."
Some of the men slid along the sloping alley-way to the side doors.Others tore away the large celluloid windows in the cabins andmotor-rooms, so as to be able to jump clear directly the fuselagetouched the water.
The two chums had drawn themselves through the windows of thenavigation-room and were standing on the blunt bows and steadyingthemselves by the tension wires running from the normal top of thenacelle to the underside of the envelope.
With the four motors running to the last the "Golden Hind" dropped intothe sea. Her projecting envelope was the first to come into contactwith the water. The ballonets, practically air-tight compartments,checked the downward movement, while the whole of the hitherto inclinedbulk, pivoted as it were by the water-borne stern, dropped until itresumed its normal horizontal position.
Fosterdyke alone had remained in the navigation-room. Directly he sawthat the airship was resting temporarily on the surface and wasbeginning to gather way like a gigantic hydroplane he switched off theremaining motors.
"Every man for himself," he shouted.
CHAPTER XXVI--"WELL PLAYED, SIR!"
Water poured into the open doors and windows and through the charred andtorn stern of the nacelle.
The aluminium envelope, not built to withstand abnormal stress, beganbuckling amidships. Tension wires, no longer in tension but incompression, were spreading in all directions as the huge gas-bagsettled down upon the already foundering nacelle.
Every one of the crew realised the danger of being entangled in thewreckage. In a trice the water was dotted with heads and shoulders oflife-belted swimmers as the crew struck out to get clear of the sinkingairship, and presently Fosterdyke was surrounded by a little mob ofundaunted men.
"Thank heaven!" ejaculated the baronet, after a hasty count. "Nonemissing. Keep together, lads, there's a vessel bearing down on us."
Not one but four craft were hastening to the rescue. Amongst these wasthe T.B.D. _Zeebrugge_, which, eighteen days previously, had gone tosearch for the derelict "Golden Hind" and had placed Sir ReginaldFosterdyke on board.
Fortunately the water was warm, and in spite of a fairly high searunning the late crew of the "Golden Hind" were taken aboard thedestroyer.
Fosterdyke and the others, declining to go below, stood on deck andwatched the end of the airship that had taken them safely for nearlytwenty-eight thousand miles, to perish within five miles of the Rock ofGibraltar, her official starting-point.
The end was not long delayed. The buckling of the aluminium enveloperesulted in ballonet after ballonet collapsing under the pressure ofwater. The fuselage had already disappeared. Bow and stern, nearlyfour hundred feet apart, reared themselves high in the air; then, with aterrific rush of mingled brodium and air that caused a seething cauldronaround each of the extremities of the envelope, the last of the "GoldenHind" sank beneath the waves.
"Rough luck losing such a fine airship," commiserated theLieut.-Commander of the destroyer.
"It is," agreed Fosterdyke, feelingly. "Especially as she is my owndesign and I superintended every bit of her construction. It was apity, too, we didn't hang on for another half an hour. I'd havejockeyed her over the Rock somehow."
"It was a brilliant achievement, Sir Reginald," said the naval officer."Every sportsman will sympathise with you, but I'm sure they'll shout:'Well played, sir!'"
"Any news of the other competitors?" asked Peter.
"Yes. Commodore Nye, the Yankee, is still stranded in Australia, but Isuppose you know that. Count Hyashi, the Jap, crashed somewhere nearSaigon. He, too, was almost home."
"Jolly hard lines," murmured Kenyon, sympathetically. "Was he hurt?"
"No, hardly bruised, but a bit shaken. Engine failure, they say,"continued the Lieut.-Commander. "That leaves only the Hun to beaccounted for."
"And I suppose he's completed the circuit?" remarked Fosterdyke,questioningly.
The naval officer laughed.
"Completing the circuit of a prison-yard!" he exclaimed. "That's abouthis mark. A Spanish yacht brought Count von Sinzig in this morning andhanded him over to the Port Admiral. It'll be a three years' job, Ifancy. Huns must learn that they can't bomb British air stations inpeace time with impunity."
The destroyer ran alongside the dockyard. Fosterdyke and the rest ofhis crew disembarked. On the jetty they were met by several of thechief Naval, Military, and Air Force officials and two representativesof the International Air Board.
Fosterdyke looked puzzled. He didn't want commiseration, butcongratulation seemed a bit out of place.
"On what grounds, Admiral?" he asked.
"On winning the Chauvasse Prize for completing the circumnavigation ofthe globe," replied the senior International Air Board representative,speaking instead of the Port Admiral. "Fact! You've won it fairly andsquarely."
"But----" began the astonished baronet.
"You have," persisted the official. "Do you recollect when the airshipbroke adrift? The destroyer went in pursuit and put you on board. Thatwas within three miles or so of Ceuta. The same destroyer picks you upout of the water five miles from 'Gib.' Consequently, you've more thancompleted the circuit, and although the official start was fromGibraltar I don't think there will be any difficulty in obtaining theInternational Air Board's decision to the effect that you've won."
And that was exactly what happened. Had it not been for Count vonSinzig's underhand work in employing Enrico Jaures to cast adrift the"Golden Hind," Fosterdyke would not have completed his aerial voyageround the world. By the irony of fate the Hun had enabled his rival toscore.
Fosterdyke won the Chauvasse Prize and the honour of being the first manto fly round the world. Needless to say Kenyon and Bramsdean and therest of the crew were not forgotten. Honours were heaped upon theintrepid airmen. They were lionised, feted, and praised to such anextent that they were in danger of developing "swelled heads."
But Kenyon and Bramsdean knew that the achievement would be but a ninedays' wonder. Having attempted and won, they were content to return totheir profession, their financial standing much increased by theirshares in the big prize. They had enough honours and diplomas tosatisfy them, but what they prized most was a certificate from the RoyalHumane Society for saving the crew of the _Hilda P. Murchison_.
"So, after all," declared Kenyon, "we did do something useful, old son!"
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