“Ah! I was always afraid that Monsieur Santos-Dumont would meet his death. You French, monsieur, are such adventurous spirits! When you reach Brest perhaps you will inquire whether he has recently made an ascent.” “I will certainly do so, monsieur.” The vessels were now out of speaking distance. Tom explained to Mr. Greatorex what he had said. “Bravo! What with my cooling apparatus and your cool cheek I think we are keeping our secret pretty well, Tom.” In order to escape further observation from passing vessels Mr. Greatorex had the yacht’s course set considerably westward of the usual track. It was consequently another couple of days before she came into the latitude of Rabat, the port for which she was making. Her head was turned eastward in the direction of the coast of Morocco, and, there being no vessels in sight, Tom again made an ascent, Timothy accompanying him. The coastline gradually came into view. From an altitude of more than a hundred feet Tom saw, between him and the coast, a number of rocky islets. Here and there the varying tints of the water indicated shoals of sunken rocks. “Know the coast?” he called down to Captain Bodgers. “Ay, ay, sir,” said the captain. “There are no end of shoals.” “Know ’em all, sir; have a care you don’t strike one.” Captain Bodgers laughed uproariously at his little joke, and Tom, circling round the yacht, set the aeroplane at full speed towards the coast. He was a considerable distance ahead when Timothy suddenly called his attention to an object projecting above the sea-level, close to one of the rocky islets that dotted the intervening space. It might have escaped their attention altogether but for a certain movement Tim fancied he discerned in it. As they drew nearer, they discovered that what Tim had thought to be a single object was in reality two, which appeared to be the broken-off stumps of two masts. Taking his field-glasses in one hand—the other always grasping the steering wheel—Tom lifted them to his eyes, got the focus, and made out that the objects were not stumps after all, but the tops of masts, and that two figures were clinging to them, one to each. Tom had no doubt that the airship was approaching the scene of a wreck, and that the two men were in distress and danger. Steering immediately for the yacht, he came within hailing distance and through his megaphone announced his discovery. “We’ll go to the rescue, _of course_,” shouted Mr. Greatorex in reply. The wreck was as yet invisible from the deck, but it was arranged that the yacht should stand in as close as possible, and then send a boat to bring off the survivors. Meanwhile Tom, setting his engine at full speed, dashed on in the direction of the submerged vessel.