This leave-taking was infinitely bitter, and I struggled for composure. I flung my machine round with a swift wrench, and steered it towards Cape Taschke. When the sun rose in all its glory, I was already floating in the blue ether, high over the wild southern mountain peaks. I had run the blockade in true modern fashion. CHAPTER VIII IN THE SLIME OF THE CHINESE RICE-FIELD THE enemy fleet lay at anchor behind the Pearl Mountains. I could not resist the temptation, and flew round them once again. Then I wended my way farther and farther towards South China, an unknown land and an uncertain fate. I passed over rugged mountains, over rivers and wide plains, sometimes crossing the open sea, then again high above towns and villages. I guided myself by map and compass, and at 8 a.m. I had already put 250 kilometres behind me, and reached my destination—Hai-Dschou, in the province of Kiangsu. I peered into the plain below in search of a suitable landing-place; but my prospects were not too promising. The torrential rains of the past weeks had turned the ground into a veritable swamp. The only dry spots were covered with houses or Chinese burial-mounds. Finally I discovered a small field, 200 metres long and 20 metres wide, which was bounded by deep ditches and high walls on two sides, and by the river on the others. Landing was confoundedly difficult, but there was no help for it, for I could not stay up for ever. Besides, I was in China, not in Germany, and could count myself lucky to have found this spot at all. I descended in wide curves. And after a steep spiral, during which the machine sagged heavily in consequence of the depression in the atmosphere, I landed in the middle of the swampy rice-field at 8.45 a.m. The clay was so soft and sticky that the aeroplane sank into the mud and the wheels were held fast; my machine landed on her nose, nearly turning turtle at the last moment. The propeller shivered into fragments, but luckily I escaped without hurt. The silence which reigned struck me as uncanny after the incessant crash and turmoil of war of the last weeks. My little Taube rested calmly and peacefully in the bright sunshine, with her little tail up and her nose embedded in the mud. I could distinguish a crowd of Chinese in the distance—men, women and swarms of children—pressing forward in awed wonder. They, together with all the other Chinese over whose land I had flown, could not account for my presence, for I was the first aviator they had ever seen, and they were all convinced that I was an Evil Spirit bent on their destruction. So when I clambered out of my machine and tried to signal to them, there was no holding them. They all fled, howling and screaming, the men first, leaving the children who dropped behind as peace-offerings to the devil. I do not think my appearance could have caused greater consternation in darkest Africa.