"At that!" he shouted, when he found himself on the same level with the man he hoped to rescue. "Take a turn."

Ten feet from him was the unconscious Enrico Jaures. The question now was, how was that intervening s.p.a.ce to be bridged?

Kenyon began to sway his legs after the manner of a child on a swing.

"If the rope parts, then it's a case of 'going west' with a vengeance,"

he soliloquised grimly. "Christopher! Isn't it beastly cold?"

Momentarily the pendulum-like movement increased until Kenneth was able to grip the arm of the unconscious man. As he did so Enrico's belt, that had hitherto prevented him from dropping into s.p.a.ce, parted like pack-thread.

With a jerk that nearly wrenched the rescuer's arms from their sockets, the deadweight of the Scorp almost capsized Kenyon out of the bow-line.

As it was, he was hanging with his head lower than his feet, holding on with a grip of iron to Jaures' arms. Thus hampered, he realised that it was manifestly impossible to make use of the second bow-line.

"Haul up!" he shouted breathlessly.

"Heavens!" he added. "Can I do it? Can I hold on long enough?"

It was a question that required some answering. The strain on his muscles, coupled with the effect of the unexpected jerk, the numbing cold, and, lastly, his own position, as he hung practically head downwards, all told against him. Even in those moments of peril he found himself thinking he must present a ludicrous sight to the watchers in the airship in the dazzling glare of the searchlight.

"Stick it another half a minute, sir," shouted a voice. "I'll be with you in a brace of shakes."

Of what happened during the next thirty long drawn out seconds Kenyon had only a hazy recollection. He was conscious of someone bawling in his ear, "Let go, sir; I've got him all right."

Kenneth obeyed mechanically. In any case he was on the point of relaxing his grip through sheer inability on the part of his muscles to respond to his will. The sudden release of the man he had rescued resulted in Kenyon regaining a normal position, and dizzy and utterly exhausted he was hauled into safety.

Someone gave him brandy. The strong spirit revived him considerably.

"Where's the fellow?" he asked.

"Safe, sir," replied Jackson. "Shall I carry on?"

"Yes, please," said Kenneth, faintly, and with the clang of the telegraph indicator bells and the rhythmic purr of the motors borne to his ears he became unconscious.

Meanwhile Enrico Jaures, to all outward appearances a corpse, had been hauled on board. One of the crew, observing Kenneth's plight, had descended by means of another rope, and had deftly hitched the end round the Scorp's body, climbing back hand over hand as unconcernedly as if he had been walking upstairs in his cottage in far-off Aberdeen.

"Like handling frozen mutton," commented one of the crew as they attended to the rescued Jaures. "Fine specimen, ain't he? An' what's he doing with that there marline-spike, I should like to know. 'Tain't all jonnick, if you ask me."

CHAPTER X--UNDER EXAMINATION

"I'm all right, I tell you. Hang it all, can't a fellow know when he's all right?"

Thus Kenyon rather resentfully resisted all efforts on the part of the men to keep him in his bunk. He came from an indomitable stock that never readily admits defeat, and on this occasion he steadfastly refused to recognise the fact that his physical strength had been well-nigh sapped.

Donning his leather coat, he made his way to the navigation-room, staggering slightly as he pa.s.sed along the narrow alley-way.

"Wireless message just received, sir," reported Jackson. "'From T.B.D.

_Zeebrugge_ to 'Golden Hind.' Am proceeding in search of you. Show position lights. Will tranship Sir Reginald Fosterd.y.k.e and Mr. Bramsdean as soon as possible. Make necessary arrangements.' We're steering N.

by W. W., but we haven't sighted the destroyer yet."

"Very good," concurred Kenyon. "Carry on."

He consulted the altimeter and the speed indicator. The former showed that the airship had descended to two thousand feet, and the speed was two thousand revolutions, or approximately thirty miles an hour. The "Golden Hind" had by this time retraced a good portion of her drift, and was now three or four miles from Ceuta.

Ten minutes later a masthead flashing lamp was seen blinking at a distance of about six miles. The light came from the destroyer _Zeebrugge_, which, pelting along at twenty-five knots, was on the lookout for the errant airship.

Kenneth Kenyon was now on his mettle. For the first time he was in command of a large airship about to make a descent. As officer of the watch he had already had opportunities of observing the handling of the huge vessel, but now he found himself confronted with the problem of bringing her close to the surface of the sea so as to enable the destroyer to manoeuvre sufficiently enough to establish direct communication.

"Hope I don't make a bog of it," he soliloquised. "I must admit I feel a bit rotten after that little jamboree just now. Still, I'll stick it."

Although he was not aware of the fact, Leading Hand Jackson was keeping a sharp eye on his superior officer, ready at the first sign to "take on" should Kenyon's physical strength fail him.

For the next ten minutes the greatest activity prevailed. Gongs were clanging, crisp orders were issued through various voice-tubes, gas was being withdrawn from various ballonets, the motors were constantly being either accelerated or r.e.t.a.r.ded according to the conditions demanded. The white flashing lamp signals were being exchanged with the T.B.D., which had now circled sixteen degrees to starboard and was steaming slowly dead in the eye of the wind.

In the floor of the bow compartment of the "Golden Hind" the large trap-hatch had been opened. Close by crouched men ready to lower away a wire rope, at the end of which a small electric bulb glowed to enable the destroyer's crew to locate the line in the dark. Throughout the manoeuvre neither the "Golden Hind" nor the _Zeebrugge_ made use of their searchlights, since the dazzling rays might baffle the respective helmsmen and result in a collision.

Slowly and gracefully the airship dropped until her fuselage was thirty feet from the surface of the sea. She was now dead in the wake of the destroyer, and the task that confronted Kenyon was to bring her ahead sufficiently for the bows to overlap the _Zeebrugge's_ stern. An error of judgment at that low height would result in the airship's bows fouling the destroyer's mast.

Foot by foot the "Golden Hind" gained upon the destroyer until a shout from the latter's deck announced that the wire rope had been made fast.

Instantly the airship's six motors were declutched. She was now moving merely under the towing action of the _Zeebrugge_, which was forging ahead at a bare four knots.

From the trap-hatch in the airship's bows a rope-ladder was lowered, its end being held by a couple of bluejackets on the T.B.D. Without loss of time Fosterd.y.k.e swarmed up the swaying ladder, and was followed by Bramsdean.

"Cast off, and thank you!" shouted the baronet.

"All gone," came an answering voice from the _Zeebrugge_, followed by a hearty "Best of luck to you!"

Released, the "Golden Hind" leapt a full five hundred feet into the air before the propellers began to revolve.

"Cheerio, Kenyon!" exclaimed Fosterd.y.k.e, as he joined Kenneth in the navigation-room. "All's well that ends well, but you gave me a pretty bad turn. What happened?"

"Hardly know, sir," replied Kenyon. "Our wire rope didn't part.

Possibly the shackle on the buoy gave. But we found a man hanging on the end of the wire."

"You did, eh?" exclaimed the baronet, sharply. "What sort of man?"

"You'll see him, sir," replied Kenneth. "He's laid out below."

"H'm!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fosterd.y.k.e, and relapsed into silence.

He was deep in thought for some moments, then turned to Kenyon again.

"We're making an official start in a few minutes' time," he announced.

"We have to pa.s.s over the Rock and display three red and three white lights to the official observer on Signal Hill. When we see a similar signal made from the Rock that will be the actual starting time. Pa.s.s the word for Jackson to get the lamps in position."