Tom knew that to descend was a delicate operation, to be performed with all caution. As his control over the airship was to a great extent proportionate to its speed, he shouted instructions to keep the yacht going under full steam. Coming up astern, he so adjusted his own speed as to overtake the yacht very slowly. When the airship was level with the stern, two men on board caught a cable hanging loose from the car. Then Tom gradually reduced the speed of the horizontal propellers, and started the vertical screws at half speed, keeping one hand all the time on the lever that adjusted the angles of the planes. He handled his appliances so dexterously that the airship, guided by the rope, sank steadily and accurately to the deck. Buffers of india rubber were slipped under her bottom to break the slight jar that must be inevitable when she touched the platform. Then Tom stepped out. “Capital!” cried Mr. Greatorex, slapping him on the back. “This is going to turn out _all right_, my boy. What does it _feel_ like, being up there?” “Like a fish out of water, I should think,” said Tom, laughing. “But I thought what a helpless thing a man-of-war would be if she had to tackle an airship. I could choose my own altitude, and drop explosives on her deck and blow her to smithereens, and there’s no gun that I know of that could make an effective reply. They’d have to invent a rocket apparatus for shying melinite shells aloft.” “Well, let’s hope that it’ll never come to that. Ours is a _cooling_ apparatus—don’t you forget it!” Tom was so well pleased with his first sea trial that day had scarcely dawned before he was again aloft. This time he took Timothy with him. He needed some assistance in attending to the mechanism, and now that a first ascent had been made without mishap, the man was no longer so nervous about it. The airship had not been up more than half an hour, however, when Tom signalled to the yacht that he saw a vessel on the horizon. “Come down _at once_!” roared Mr. Greatorex through a megaphone. Tom descended, somewhat unwillingly. Nothing would have pleased him better than to steer directly for the vessel, and see what effect was produced on board by the sight of this strange bird of passage hovering above the tops. But clearly Mr. Greatorex was right, and Tom lowered the machine deftly to the deck. As the ship was heading straight for the yacht, the aeroplane was covered with tarpaulin. The vessel turned out to be a cruiser flying the French colours. The captain spoke the yacht, and asked whether anything had been seen from its deck of an extraordinary object that appeared to have been moving through the air. “Answer him, Tom. I’m no good at French.” “We did see something, monsieur le capitaine,” he said, “Do you know whether Monsieur Santos-Dumont is trying his thirty-third airship?” “I am not aware, monsieur. It may be. I saw the object very indistinctly. It suddenly disappeared.”