An airship of this type, when most of her petrol is consumed, can rise to a height of about 14,000 feet. 15.8 TONS OF PETROL AT START For this reason the next few hours were about the most anxious periods during the flight for Major Scott, the captain of the ship, who, owing to the large amount of petrol carried (4,900 gallons, weighing 15.8 tons), had to keep the ship as low as possible and at the same time pass over northern Scotland, where the hills rise to a height of over 3,000 feet. Owing to the stormy nature of the morning the air at 1,500 feet—the height at which the airship was travelling—was most disturbed and bumpy, due to the wind being broken up by the mountains to the north, causing violent wind-currents and air-pockets. The most disturbed conditions were met in the mouth of the Clyde, south of Loch Lomond, which, surrounded by high mountains, looked particularly beautiful in the gray dawn light. The islands at the mouth of the Firth of Clyde were quietly passed. The north coast of Ireland appeared for a time, and shortly afterward faded away as we headed out into the Atlantic. The various incidents of the voyage are set down quite simply as they occurred, and more or less in the form of a diary. No attempt has been made to write them as a connected story. It is felt that, by recording each incident in this way, most of them trivial, a few of vital importance, a true picture of the voyage will be obtained. Time, 6 A. M., July 2. EARLY SPEED, 38 KNOTS Airship running on four engines with 1,000 revolutions. Forward engine being given a rest. Air speed, 38 knots—land-miles per hour made good, 56.7. Course steered, 298 degrees north, 62 degrees west. Course made good, 39 degrees north, 71 west. Wind, north-east, 15⅓ miles per hour. Height, 1,500 feet. Large banks of fleecy clouds came rolling along from the Atlantic, gradually blotting out all view of the sea. At first we were above these clouds, but gradually they rose higher, and we ploughed our way into the middle of them. 7 A. M.—Nothing but dense fog, estimated by Harris, the meteorological officer, to go down to within 50 feet of the water and up to a height of about 5,000 feet. Suddenly we catch a glimpse of the sea through a hole in the clouds, and it is now easy to see we have a slight drift to the south, which was estimated by both Scott, the captain, and Cooke, the navigating officer. A few minutes later we find ourselves above the clouds, our height still being 1,500 feet, and beneath a cloud sky with clouds at about 8,000 feet. We are, therefore, in between two layers of clouds, a condition in which Alcock and Brown found themselves on more than one occasion on their recent flight from west to east.