Others tore away the large celluloid windows in the cabins and motor-rooms, so as to be able to jump clear directly the fuselage touched the water.

The two chums had drawn themselves through the windows of the navigation-room and were standing on the blunt bows and steadying themselves by the tension wires running from the normal top of the nacelle to the underside of the envelope.

With the four motors running to the last the "Golden Hind" dropped into the sea. Her projecting envelope was the first to come into contact with the water. The ballonets, practically air-tight compartments, checked the downward movement, while the whole of the hitherto inclined bulk, pivoted as it were by the water-borne stern, dropped until it resumed its normal horizontal position.

Fosterd.y.k.e alone had remained in the navigation-room. Directly he saw that the airship was resting temporarily on the surface and was beginning to gather way like a gigantic hydroplane he switched off the remaining motors.

"Every man for himself," he shouted.

CHAPTER XXVI--"WELL PLAYED, SIR!"

Water poured into the open doors and windows and through the charred and torn stern of the nacelle.

The aluminium envelope, not built to withstand abnormal stress, began buckling amidships. Tension wires, no longer in tension but in compression, were spreading in all directions as the huge gas-bag settled down upon the already foundering nacelle.

Every one of the crew realised the danger of being entangled in the wreckage. In a trice the water was dotted with heads and shoulders of life-belted swimmers as the crew struck out to get clear of the sinking airship, and presently Fosterd.y.k.e was surrounded by a little mob of undaunted men.

"Thank heaven!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the baronet, after a hasty count. "None missing. Keep together, lads, there's a vessel bearing down on us."

Not one but four craft were hastening to the rescue. Amongst these was the T.B.D. _Zeebrugge_, which, eighteen days previously, had gone to search for the derelict "Golden Hind" and had placed Sir Reginald Fosterd.y.k.e on board.

Fortunately the water was warm, and in spite of a fairly high sea running the late crew of the "Golden Hind" were taken aboard the destroyer.

Fosterd.y.k.e and the others, declining to go below, stood on deck and watched the end of the airship that had taken them safely for nearly twenty-eight thousand miles, to perish within five miles of the Rock of Gibraltar, her official starting-point.

The end was not long delayed. The buckling of the aluminium envelope resulted in ballonet after ballonet collapsing under the pressure of water. The fuselage had already disappeared. Bow and stern, nearly four hundred feet apart, reared themselves high in the air; then, with a terrific rush of mingled brodium and air that caused a seething cauldron around each of the extremities of the envelope, the last of the "Golden Hind" sank beneath the waves.

"Rough luck losing such a fine airship," commiserated the Lieut.-Commander of the destroyer.

"It is," agreed Fosterd.y.k.e, feelingly. "Especially as she is my own design and I superintended every bit of her construction. It was a pity, too, we didn't hang on for another half an hour. I'd have jockeyed 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 compet.i.tors?" asked Peter.

"Yes. Commodore Nye, the Yankee, is still stranded in Australia, but I suppose you know that. Count Hyashi, the j.a.p, crashed somewhere near Saigon. 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 be accounted for."

"And I suppose he's completed the circuit?" remarked Fosterd.y.k.e, questioningly.

The naval officer laughed.

"Completing the circuit of a prison-yard!" he exclaimed. "That's about his mark. A Spanish yacht brought Count von Sinzig in this morning and handed him over to the Port Admiral. It'll be a three years' job, I fancy. Huns must learn that they can't bomb British air stations in peace time with impunity."

The destroyer ran alongside the dockyard. Fosterd.y.k.e and the rest of his crew disembarked. On the jetty they were met by several of the chief Naval, Military, and Air Force officials and two representatives of the International Air Board.

Fosterd.y.k.e looked puzzled. He didn't want commiseration, but congratulation seemed a bit out of place.

"On what grounds, Admiral?" he asked.

"On winning the Chauva.s.se Prize for completing the circ.u.mnavigation of the globe," replied the senior International Air Board representative, speaking instead of the Port Admiral. "Fact! You've won it fairly and squarely."

"But----" began the astonished baronet.

"You have," persisted the official. "Do you recollect when the airship broke adrift? The destroyer went in pursuit and put you on board. That was within three miles or so of Ceuta. The same destroyer picks you up out of the water five miles from 'Gib.' Consequently, you've more than completed the circuit, and although the official start was from Gibraltar I don't think there will be any difficulty in obtaining the International Air Board's decision to the effect that you've won."

And that was exactly what happened. Had it not been for Count von Sinzig's underhand work in employing Enrico Jaures to cast adrift the "Golden Hind," Fosterd.y.k.e would not have completed his aerial voyage round the world. By the irony of fate the Hun had enabled his rival to score.

Fosterd.y.k.e won the Chauva.s.se Prize and the honour of being the first man to fly round the world. Needless to say Kenyon and Bramsdean and the rest of the crew were not forgotten. Honours were heaped upon the intrepid airmen. They were lionised, feted, and praised to such an extent that they were in danger of developing "swelled heads."

But Kenyon and Bramsdean knew that the achievement would be but a nine days' wonder. Having attempted and won, they were content to return to their profession, their financial standing much increased by their shares in the big prize. They had enough honours and diplomas to satisfy them, but what they prized most was a certificate from the Royal Humane Society for saving the crew of the _Hilda P. Murchison_.

"So, after all," declared Kenyon, "we did do something useful, old son!"