"Two thousand miles in nine hours," remarked Fosterdyke, referring to the Japanese airplane’s performance. "Some shifting that, but Count Hyashi has evidently gone the pace a bit too thick. He’s our most dangerous rival, Kenyon." "Unless von Sinzig has something up his sleeve, sir," added Kenneth. "Trust him for that," said the baronet, grimly. "However, time will prove. Well, carry on, Kenyon. Call me if there’s any great change in the weather." Within the next two hours there were indications that even the new course taken by the "Golden Hind" would not allow her to escape the cyclone. Right ahead the hitherto cloudless sky was heavy with dark, ragged thunder-clouds that, extending north and south as far as the eye could see, threatened to close upon the airship like the horns of a Zulu impi. Roused from his sleep, Fosterdyke lost no time in making his way to the navigation-room. Although he was not to be on duty for another hour and a half, Peter Bramsdean had also hurried to the chart-room. "We’re in for it, sir," declared Kenneth. "We are," agreed Fosterdyke, gravely. "Evidently there is a second disturbance, but judging from appearances it’s none the less formidable. No use turning tail. We’ll go up another five thousand feet and see what it looks like." The "Golden Hind" rose rapidly, under the joint action of her six planes and the addition of brodium to the ballonets; but even then it was touch-and-go whether the gathering storm would encircle her. As it was she flew within the influence of the fringe of the cyclone. Shrieking winds assailed her, seeming to come from two opposing quarters. Her huge bulk lurched and staggered as she climbed. Her fuselage see-sawed as the blast struck the enormous envelope above, while the jar upon the tension wires was plainly felt by the crew. For a full ten minutes it was as black as night, save when the dark masses of cloud were riven by vivid flashes of lightning. Blinded by the almost incessant glare, Fosterdyke and his companions could do little or nothing but hang on, trusting that the "Golden Hind" would steer herself through the opaque masses of vapour. It was impossible to consult the instruments. Whether the airship was rising or falling, whether she was steering north, south, east, or west remained questions that were incapable of being solved, since the blinding flashes of lightning and the deafening peals of thunder literally deprived the occupants of the navigation-room of every sense save that of touch. All they could do was to hold on tightly, clench their teeth, and wait.