Kenyon did so. Evidently the wireless operator had been kept busily employed, for there were dozens of messages wishing the "Golden Hind" bon voyage. But amongst them were two of a different nature. One announced that an American airship "Eagle," under the command of Commodore Theodore Nye, had left Tampa Town bound for Colon, followed by a supplementary message that the "Eagle" had left the Panama Canal zone and was last sighted flying in a westerly direction. Making allowance for the difference in New York and Greenwich times, both the "Golden Hind" and her Yankee rival had started practically simultaneously from their respective points of departure for the actual race. The second wireless message, transmitted via Vancouver, Newfoundland, and Poldu, was to the effect that the "Banzai," the Japanese quadruplane piloted by Count Hyashi, had started from Nagasaki at a speed estimated at two hundred and twenty miles an hour. "Artful blighter, that Jap," declared Bramsdean. "He’s kept his design carefully up his sleeve till the last moment. We thought he was attempting the flight in an airship, but he’s pinned his faith to a gigantic quadruplane." "Two hundred and twenty miles an hour, too," added Kenyon. "That means he’ll do the whole trip in less than 120 hours of actual flying, unless something goes wrong with his ’bus. My word, some speed!" "What I’d like to know is his petrol consumption, and how much juice does his ’bus carry," remarked Bramsdean, thoughtfully. "By Jove! We’re up against something, old son." "By the by, I see there’s no news of Fritz," said Kenneth. "Not a word," replied Peter. "Von Sinzig evidently thinks that it’s too early to start bragging. We’ll hear either from or of him before night. Fosterdyke is trying to call him up by wireless and tell him that he has a friend of his on board." "Oh, that greasy merchant!" rejoined Kenneth. "How did he get on?" "Played ’possum," answered Bramsdean. "Fosterdyke tried to put the wind up him, but it was a frost. I’d like to know what he did to the shackle on the mooring-buoy." "You think he cast us adrift?" "Without a doubt, old bird." Kenyon shook his head doubtfully. "He might have been simply fishing when the pin drew and he got whisked aloft," he suggested. "Did he give his name or any particulars?" "Not he," replied Peter. "In fact he wasn’t asked. Fosterdyke went for him bald-headed and tried to make him admit that he was in von Sinzig’s pay. But nothin’ doin’, even when we made out that we were going to drop him overboard. Well, cheerio, old thing." Left in charge of the airship, Kenyon pondered over the problem of whether the man he had rescued had really been a secret agent of von Sinzig or otherwise. If he were, then it would be almost a foregone conclusion that he spoke German.