At no time during the past sixteen hours had the pilot's hands and feet left the controls. This was a difficult achievement for such a long period, especially as a rubber device, fitted to ease the strain, proved to be valueless. Elastic, linked to a turnbuckle, had been attached to the control lever and rudder bar; but in the hurry that preceded our departure from St. John's, the elastic was cut too short. All the weight of the controls, therefore, bore directly on the pilot. The machine now tended to sag downward, being nose-heavy because its incidence had changed, owing to the gradual alteration in the center of gravity as the rear gasoline tanks emptied. Alcock was thus obliged to exert continuous backward pressure on the control lever. I had screwed on the lids of the thermos flask, and was placing the remains of the food in the tiny cupboard behind my seat, when Alcock grabbed my shoulder, twisted me round, beamed excitedly, and pointed ahead and below. His lips were moving, but whatever he said was inaudible above the roar of the motors. I followed the direction indicated by his outstretched fore-finger; and, barely visible through the mist, it showed me two tiny specks of--_land_. This happened at 8:15 A. M. on June 15th. With a light heart, I put away charts and tables of calculation, and disregarded the compass needle. My work as navigator of the flight was at an end. CHAPTER VII THE ARRIVAL Alcock flew straight for the specks of land, which revealed themselves as two tiny islands--Ecshal and Turbot, as we afterwards discovered. In his log of the return flight, from New York to Norfolk, of the British airship _R-34_, Brigadier-General Maitland, C. M. G., D. S. O., notes the curious coincidence that his first sight of land was when these same two islands appeared on the starboard bow of the dirigible. From above the islands the mainland was visible, and we steered for the nearest point on it. The machine was still just underneath the clouds, and flying at two hundred and fifty feet; from which low height I saw plainly the white breakers foaming on to the shore. We crossed the coast of Ireland at 8:25 A. M. I was then uncertain of our exact location, and suggested to Alcock that the best plan would be to find a railway line and follow it south. A few minutes later, however, the wireless masts at Clifden gave the key to our position. To attract attention, I fired two red flares from the Very pistol; but as they seemed to be unnoticed from the ground, we circled over the village of Clifden, about two miles from the wireless station. Although slightly off our course when we reached the coast, we were in the direct line of flight for Galway, at which place I had calculated to hit Ireland. Not far ahead we could see a cluster of hills, with their tops lost in low-lying clouds.