The Spaniard said a few words in an undertone to his companion. The other's eyes gleamed and he nodded his head vigorously.

"We will take you on board and tow your machine," announced the owner of the yacht.

"To Cadiz or Huelva?" asked the count.

"Accept ten thousand regrets, count," replied the Spaniard. "We must take you to Gibraltar."

"But I have no wish to be taken to Gibraltar," declared von Sinzig. "I will give a thousand pesetas to be landed at Cadiz."

The Don again shrugged his shoulders.

"No doubt my crew would be glad of your offer of a thousand pesetas, count," he replied, "but since they know that the English have offered a reward equal to five thousand pesetas----"

"You would sell me?" demanded von Sinzig, furiously.

"I sell you, senor? Not I--a caballero of Spain! You insult me by the suggestion. I recollect, however, that I once had a brother. He was lost at sea, while travelling on an English vessel from New York to Cadiz. Like you, he wanted to land at Cadiz, but he was not able to do so. For why? Because the ship was torpedoed by one of your ever-accursed U-boats. Therefore I have a small measure of revenge when I hand you over to the English authorities at Gibraltar. Be pleased, senor, to step aboard."

Covered by an automatic pistol, Count Karl von Sinzig had no option but to obey. In the race round the world he was down and out.

CHAPTER XXV--FIRE!

Sir Reginald Fosterd.y.k.e laid down his pencil and uttered an exclamation of intense satisfaction. He had just "shot the sun" and had finished working out his position.

"Another hour will see us at Gib., lads," he announced joyously. "Then there'll be some mafficking. What's your programme? Going to pack your suit 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 repairs executed before I resume my flight to England. I thought, perhaps, you were 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 could proceed with his explanation the alarm bell rang violently and continuously.

"What's wrong now?" exclaimed Fosterd.y.k.e, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the voice tube.

Peter, glancing aft through the window of the navigation-room, which being 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 from the after-end of the fuselage. Fanned by the rush of the airship, the black vapour was streaming in its wake like a fox's tail.

Leaving Kenyon to take charge of the navigation-room, and cautioning him to keep the "Golden Hind" dead in the eye of the wind, and as fast as she could possibly go, Fosterd.y.k.e and Peter hastened aft.

They found the alley-way thick with smoke, for on the well-known principle that "the wind follows the ship" the draught was carrying the fumes within the nacelle in a forward direction.

A man wearing a smoke helmet brushed past them. It was Hayward going to find some fire-extinguishers. Others of the crew, who had hastily donned masks to protect themselves from the choking vapour, were busily engaged in hurling pyrene into the seat of the conflagration.

Although the speed of the "Golden Hind" through the air fanned the flames, Fosterd.y.k.e had done well to order speed to be maintained. The velocity had the effect of compelling the fire to trail astern instead of spreading upwards and thus destroying the envelope. Even as it was the heat had caused the non-inflammable brodium to expand, giving the envelope a tendency to trim down by the head.

"Petrol tank to No. 5 motor, sir," reported a grimy and perspiring mechanic, who through sheer exhaustion and being partly ga.s.sed by the noxious 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 getting it under."

It was indeed a stiff fight. In a few seconds the area of the fire had attained such large dimensions that it was impossible to reach the actual source. The fire-fighters had first to subdue the fringe of the conflagration, and by the time they had done this several of them were _hors de combat_ by reason of the suffocating gases thrown off by the oxygen-exterminating pyrene. Above the crackling of the flames came the sharp tang of the suspension wires holding the nacelle to the aluminium envelope as they parted under the terrific heat.

Not only were the crew faced with the danger of the fire getting the upper hand; the while there was the chance of a portion of the fuselage becoming detached from the gas-bag, and the prospect of being hurled through s.p.a.ce from a height of eight or nine thousand feet above the sea was one that might well in cold blood put fear into the heart of the bravest of the brave. But in the heat of action the crew, knowing the danger, faced the risk manfully. Working in relays, they plied the flames with the fire-extinguishing chemicals. As fast as one man fell out, temporarily overcome by the fumes and the terrific heat, another took his place until the fire was overcome. Even then the danger was not over. There was still a possibility of the smouldering fuselage being fanned into a blaze. Parts of the aluminium framework and panelling were warped and twisted into fantastic shapes. Snake-like coils of wire indicated the fact that several of the highly important connections between the fuselage and the envelope had been burnt through. Whether a sufficient number of tension wires remained to adequately support the afterpart of the nacelle remained a matter of doubt.

Unaccountably the petrol tank feeding No. 5 motor had taken fire. The pipes and unions had been frequently examined and found to be in good order. In fact, Hayward had personally inspected the fittings of that particular 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 of the fuselage. The flames had spread to Fosterd.y.k.e's cabin, completely gutting it. Only a few aluminium frames were left, and these, blackened and bent, trailed forlornly astern like a gaunt skeleton.

With the contraction of the brodium after the fire had been quelled the envelope, instead of tending to tilt aft, now showed a tendency to droop. The heat had melted the solder of the union pipes through which the gas was pa.s.sed either to or from the metal pressure flasks, and several thousand feet of brodium had escaped.

Driven only by four propellers, her preciously scanty supply of brodium sadly depleted, and with the controls of the two after planes damaged by the flames, the "Golden Hind" was in a perilous state. She was just able, and no more, to overcome the attraction of gravity. How long she would be able to maintain herself in the air was a problem of supposition.

Had the "Golden Hind" been supported by hydrogen gas nothing could have saved her. The overcoming of the flames was a triumph for the fire-resisting properties of brodium. The patent gas had been put to one of the severest tests--an actual fire in mid-air--and had emerged with flying colours.

From the time of the alarm being raised until the fire was subdued only half an hour had elapsed. The smoke-grimed and fatigued crew were glad to rest, while Fosterd.y.k.e and Peter returned to the navigation-room, there to wash and replace their singed and reeking clothes with others from Kenyon's and Bramsdean's kit-bags. The baronet had to borrow a suit. The one he was wearing was in holes, while all his others on board were destroyed when his cabin was burnt out.

Fosterd.y.k.e was cheerful. In fact he was jocular. He realised that things might have been far worse; he was glad to find that the "Golden Hind" was still navigable and that none of his crew had sustained injury.

"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 she doing now?"

"Not more than eighty, sir," replied Kenneth, "and we've a stiffish wind to contend with."

"Eighty, eh? Not so dusty, considering we're trailing the wreckage of my cabin astern, and there's only four props to shove us along. She's dipping, though."

"She is, sir," agreed Kenyon, gravely. "I've trimmed the planes to their maximum. That tends to shove her nose up, but if I didn't she'd sit on her tail."

"We'll finish at the tape like an aerial Cleopatra's Needle," declared Fosterd.y.k.e. "h.e.l.lo! There's Tangier. That strip of blue you can just see beyond is the Straits of Gibraltar. We're a bit to the east'ard of our course."

Another half an hour of strenuous battling against heavy odds brought the "Golden Hind" immediately to the west of Ceuta. Ahead could be discerned the famous rock, although viewed from an alt.i.tude and "end on"

its well-known appearance as a lion couchant was absent. But the "Golden Hind" had shot her bolt. "We're baulked at the tape," declared Fosterd.y.k.e. "This head wind's doing us. Hard lines, but we must take things as we find them."

Like von Sinzig he had been beaten by the head wind, but Fosterd.y.k.e, instead of raving and cursing like his German rival, accepted the situation philosophically. It was hard lines, failing within sight of the goal; but the baronet kept a stiff upper lip. He had done everything humanly possible to achieve his aim. He could do no more.

The "Golden Hind," inclined at an angle of sixty degrees, was dropping slowly but surely. With her remaining motors running all out she was unable to overcome the pull of gravity. Even as she dropped, her progress towards her goal was maintained at a rate of a bare five miles an hour above and against that of the wind.

Every man on board was holding on like grim death. With the floor as steep 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 strove valiantly but unavailingly to lift the huge bulk of the airship in an almost vertical direction. Should the motors fail to function, then the "Golden Hind" would drop like a stone. As it was she was falling surely and slowly.

Already officers and men had donned their inflated indiarubber lifebelts. There was not the slightest sign of panic. The men, although keenly disappointed at failure within sight of success, were joking with each other.

"Stand by to jump, all hands," shouted Fosterd.y.k.e. "Keep clear of the raffle, and you'll be as right as rain. There are half a dozen vessels within a couple of miles of us."

Some of the men slid along the sloping alley-way to the side doors.