CHAPTER XIII--THE TAIL OF A CYCLONE
"Hanged if I like the look of things one little bit," declaredFosterdyke, frankly. "Glass dropping as quickly as if the bottom of ithad fallen out, and on top of it all we get this."
"This" was a wireless from Point de Galle announcing that a terrificcyclone was raging west of the Maldive Islands, its path being a"right-hand circle." That meant that unless the "Golden Hind" made aradical alteration of course she would encounter the full force of thewind.
It was the fourth day of the race. The "Golden Hind" had passed overSocotra at daybreak and was on her way across the Arabian Sea, her nextscheduled landing-place being Colombo.
"If we carry on we'll hit the tail of the cyclone," said Kenyon,consulting a chart of the Indian Ocean.
"Yes, but what is worse we'd pass through the dangerous storm-centre,and then more than likely get a nose-ender on the other side, if we werelucky enough to weather the centre," replied Fosterdyke. "It's too jollyrisky, Kenyon. At fifteen thousand feet it may be as bad or worse thanat five hundred feet up. Call up Murgatroyd, and ask what petrol thereis in the tanks."
Kenneth went to the voice tube and made the necessary enquiry of theengineer.
"By Jove, we'll risk it!" declared Fosterdyke, when he received thedesired information. "We'll go south a bit, and then make straight forFremantle."
Kenyon was taken aback with the audacity of the proposal. The distancebetween Socotra and Western Australia was a good 5000 miles, orthirty-six hours of uninterrupted flight. At 140 miles an hour therewas sufficient fuel on board for forty hours, which meant a reserve offour hours only in case of anything occurring to protract the run.
"Oh, we'll do it," said Fosterdyke, confidently, as he noticed hiscompanion's look of blank amazement. "Better run the risk of cuttingthings fine than to barge into a cyclone. Sou'-east by south is thecourse."
"Remarkable thing we haven't heard anything of friend Sinzig 'clockingin,'" observed Kenyon. "Wonder where he's making for?"
"We'll hear in due course," replied the baronet. He crossed the cabinto consult a Mercator's chart of the world, on which were pinnedBritish, American, and Japanese flags recording the latest-knownpositions of the rival airmen. There was a German flag ready to bestuck in, but nearly five days had elapsed since von Sinzig left Spain,and the crew of the "Golden Hind" were still in ignorance of hiswhereabouts.
But they had the satisfaction of knowing that they more than held theirown with the others. The American had passed the Azores, while CountHyashi's "Banzai," which had made a stupendous non-stop flight toHonolulu, had developed engine defects that promised to detain himindefinitely.
"Two thousand miles in nine hours," remarked Fosterdyke, referring tothe Japanese airplane's performance. "Some shifting that, but CountHyashi has evidently gone the pace a bit too thick. He's our mostdangerous rival, Kenyon."
"Unless von Sinzig has something up his sleeve, sir," added Kenneth.
"Trust him for that," said the baronet, grimly. "However, time willprove. Well, carry on, Kenyon. Call me if there's any great change inthe weather."
Within the next two hours there were indications that even the newcourse taken by the "Golden Hind" would not allow her to escape thecyclone. Right ahead the hitherto cloudless sky was heavy with dark,ragged thunder-clouds that, extending north and south as far as the eyecould see, threatened to close upon the airship like the horns of a Zuluimpi.
Roused from his sleep, Fosterdyke lost no time in making his way to thenavigation-room. Although he was not to be on duty for another hour anda half, Peter Bramsdean had also hurried to the chart-room.
"We're in for it, sir," declared Kenneth.
"We are," agreed Fosterdyke, gravely. "Evidently there is a seconddisturbance, but judging from appearances it's none the less formidable.No use turning tail. We'll go up another five thousand feet and see whatit looks like."
The "Golden Hind" rose rapidly, under the joint action of her six planesand the addition of brodium to the ballonets; but even then it wastouch-and-go whether the gathering storm would encircle her. As it wasshe flew within the influence of the fringe of the cyclone. Shriekingwinds assailed her, seeming to come from two opposing quarters. Herhuge bulk lurched and staggered as she climbed. Her fuselage see-sawedas the blast struck the enormous envelope above, while the jar upon thetension wires was plainly felt by the crew.
For a full ten minutes it was as black as night, save when the darkmasses of cloud were riven by vivid flashes of lightning. Blinded by thealmost incessant glare, Fosterdyke and his companions could do little ornothing but hang on, trusting that the "Golden Hind" would steer herselfthrough the opaque masses of vapour. It was impossible to consult theinstruments. Whether the airship was rising or falling, whether she wassteering north, south, east, or west remained questions that wereincapable of being solved, since the blinding flashes of lightning andthe deafening peals of thunder literally deprived the occupants of thenavigation-room of every sense save that of touch. All they could dowas to hold on tightly, clench their teeth, and wait.
It required some holding on. At one moment the longitudinal axis of theairship was inclined at an angle of forty-five degrees; at another shewas heeling to almost the same angle, the while twisting and writhinglike a trapped animal. Now and again she seemed to be enveloped inelectric fluid. Dazzling flashes of blue flame played on and along thealuminium envelope, vicious tongues of forked lightning seemed to stabthe gas-bag through and through; and doubtless had the ballonetscontained hydrogen instead of non-inflammable brodium the "Golden Hind"would have crashed seawards in trailing masses of flame.
How long this inferno lasted no one on board had the remotest idea. Theflight of time remained a matter of individual calculation. To Kenyonit seemed hours; Bramsdean afterwards confessed that he thought thepassage through the storm cloud lasted thirty minutes. In reality onlysix minutes had elapsed from the time the "Golden Hind" was enveloped inthe thunder cloud till the moment when she emerged.
It was much like being in a train coming out of a long tunnel. Withtheir eyes still dazed by the vivid flashes the men in thenavigation-room became aware that the vapour was growing lighter. Theycould distinguish the smoke-like rolls of mist as the sunshinepenetrated the upper edges of the clouds. Then, no longer beaten by thetorrential downpour of hail, the "Golden Hind" shot into a blaze ofbrilliant sunshine.
It seemed too good to be true. For some moments Fosterdyke and hiscompanions simply stared blankly ahead until their eyes grew accustomedto the different conditions.
Then Kenyon, who was still officer of the watch, glanced over theshoulder of the helmsman and noted the compass. The lubber's line was apoint west of north. The "Golden Hind" had been practically retracingher course, and might be anything from fifty to a hundred miles fartheraway from her goal than she had been when the storm enveloped her.
Obedient to the action of the vertical rudders the airship swung back onher former course. The altimeter indicated a height of twelve thousandfeet, and the "Golden Hind" was still rising. Three thousand feet belowwas an expanse of wind-torn clouds, no longer showing dark, but of adazzling whiteness. The crew of the "Golden Hind" were literallylooking on the bright side of things.
"We're well above the path of the storm," remarked Fosterdyke,gratefully. "We've a lot to be thankful for, but the fact remains wedaren't descend while that stuff's knocking about. Once in a lifetimeis quite enough."
Before any of his companions could offer any remark, Murgatroyd, thechief air-mechanic on duty, appeared through the hatchway.
"Sorry to have to report, sir," he announced, "that the two after motorsare both out of action. Blade smashed on the starboard prop, sir, andthe chain-drive on the port prop has snapped. The broken chain is inyour cabin, sir."
"Who put it there?" asked Fosterdyke.
"It put itself there, sir," was the imperturbable reply. "Sort of flewoff the sprocket when the link parted and went
bang through the sideplate of the fuselage, sir. I'll allow it's made a wee bit of a messinside, sir."
"Take over, Bramsdean, please," said Fosterdyke. "Directly you get achance obtain our position. Come on, Kenyon, let's see the extent ofthe damage. The cabin doesn't matter. It isn't the first time I'veslept in a punctured dog-box. But the mechanical breakdown--that's thething that counts."
Followed by Murgatroyd, the baronet and Kenyon went aft. From No. 5motor-room they could see the motionless propeller, one of the fourblades of which had been shattered as far as the boss, while all theothers bore signs of more or less damage from the flying fragments.
"Matter of twenty minutes, sir," replied Murgatroyd in answer to hischief's enquiry as to how long the repairs would take. "We'll have tostop, and I'll bolt on the new blades. At the same time I'll put acouple of hands on to fitting a new chain to the starboard drive. Idon't fancy the 'A' bracket's strained, but I'll soon find out directlywe stop."
It was rough luck to have to stop all the motors and drift at the mercyof the air currents for twenty precious minutes; but the only optionwould be to carry on under the action of four propellers only at agreatly reduced speed.
"Right-o, Murgatroyd," agreed the baronet. "Slap it about."
"Trust me for that, sir," replied the engineer. "I've warned thebreak-down gang. I'll give you the all-clear signal in twentyminutes--less, sir, or my name isn't Robert Murgatroyd."
Three minutes later the remaining four motors were switched off, and the"Golden Hind," rapidly losing way, fell off broadside on to the wind ata height of twelve thousand five hundred feet above sea-level.
Instantly the mechanics swarmed out along the slender "A" brackets,Murgatroyd and an assistant setting to work to unbolt the damagedblades, while other airmen passed a new chain round the sprocket wheelsof the starboard motor and propeller respectively.
Although there was no apparent wind, and the airship was drifting atpractically the same rate as the air current, it was bitterly cold. Thebrackets were slippery with ice, and the difficulty of maintaining afoothold was still further increased by the erratic vertical motion ofthe airship.
The mechanics, wearing lifelines, went about their work fearlessly.They were used to clambering about on coastal airships, sometimes underfire; and although the present task was a simple one from a mechanicalpoint, it was most difficult owing to the adverse atmosphericconditions.
Yet in the space of seventeen and a half minutes Murgatroyd and his bandof workers were back in the fuselage, their task accomplished, and intwenty minutes the six motors were running once more.
Murgatroyd flushed with pleasure when his chief thanked and complimentedhim.
"Maybe, sir, you'd be liking to have your cabin repaired?" he asked."Just a sheet of metal strapped against the plates will hold till weland again. Then I'll see that it's well bolted on, sir; but I'llguarantee you'll not be feeling the draught to-night."