Without previous notice this new air ship set forth in a rain on the evening of May 29, 1909, headed toward Berlin, having on board the Count and seven other men. The purpose of the voyage was merely to exercise the ship; not to reach any definite goal; but by mistake she was reported on her way to Berlin, so that the Kaiser and his retinue waited some hours in vain to receive her. She voyaged bravely past Nuremberg and Leipsic to Bitterfeld, within 85 miles of the capital; then turned for home, the Count being unaware of the hopes he was disappointing. She returned successfully past Weimar and Stuttgart, then, near Goeppingen, descended on an open plain to take on gasoline from a neighboring petroleum refinery. As they were nearing the ground in a heavy rain, Count Zeppelin, who was acting as pilot, suddenly beheld, just before them, a half dead pear tree, with gaunt bare limbs. He gave a sharp order to starboard the helm; but his aëronaut, worn by too long service, thrust the helm to port, and the ship, impelled by a sudden gust, plunged head on against the tree. Her prow was wrecked, the frame and envelope being wrenched and torn for a distance of 100 feet. The disaster seemed complete, but the dauntless Count was equal to the emergency. Twenty workmen were summoned from Friedrichshafen, sixty miles away, and sped to the rescue in automobiles. Electric wires from a nearby plant were stretched to furnish light for night repairs. The grounds were guarded by police and troops. The hull was detached from the tree; furnished with a temporary prow of young firs covered with balloon cloth; relieved of the forward motors and other impedimenta; furnished with fresh supplies; and, in exactly 28 hours from the mishap, was ready for the homeward voyage. Slowly the crippled air ship sailed for Friedrichshafen, followed by the white-haired inventor in an automobile, unmoved and triumphant. A mighty shout ascended from the immense crowd of witnesses who had assembled from many quarters. All Germany was elated and jubilant. The great voyage and the prompt recovery from apparent disaster were a triumph of the whole people, for they had helped their hero to build this ship, and now participated in his victory over the spite of fortune and the elements. The Emperor telegraphed his congratulations, affirming his renewed confidence in the rigid system. Without further difficulty the vessel reached her port at an easy gait of ten miles an hour, thus completing a memorable voyage of seven hundred miles—one of the most glorious in the history of aëronautics.