It was an unlucky day for Z64. About noon two of her motors developed trouble simultaneously. Three hours elapsed before the sweating mechanics were able to get the recalcitrant engines in running order again, and during that period the Zeppelin had perforce to slow down considerably. Consequently, it was half an hour after sunrise when Z64 sighted the Three Kings Island to the north-west of Cape Maria van Diemen. Here she altered course, so as ostensibly to appear as if she had been flying straight from New Caledonia, and, skirting the west coast of New Zealand, headed for Napier, where, by the consent of the New Zealand Government, von Sinzig was permitted to land and thus carry out one of the conditions of the contest. "We’ll fly inland when we sight Auckland," decided the count. "No, don’t take her up any higher. There is now no need for concealment. Let these New Zealanders see and comment upon the fact that their islands are not beyond reach of a good German airship." And so, flaunting her prowess in the rapidly-growing daylight, Z64 approached the town of Auckland. The Zeppelin was within ten miles of the place when one of the crew shouted the disconcerting information that there was an airship on the starboard bow, travelling east by north. Rapping out a furious oath, von Sinzig snatched up a pair of binoculars. He had never before set eyes on the "Golden Hind," although the British airship had passed almost immediately above him within a few minutes of Z64 leaving her Spanish base, but instinctively he realised that this was his greatest rival, Sir Reginald Fosterdyke’s creation. "Gott in Himmel!" shouted von Sinzig. "Leutter, you numbskull, you made a hideous mess of things last night! Look--the ’Golden Hind’!" CHAPTER XVII--A SURPRISE FOR CAPTAIN PROUT Captain Abraham Prout, master and part owner of the topsail schooner _Myrtle_, of 120 tons burthen, came on deck on hearing the mate give the order "All hands shorten sail!" It was six o’clock in the morning, still dark and very cold, for the _Myrtle_ was on the fortieth parallel of the Southern Hemisphere, and the month being June it was mid-winter. There were flakes of snow flying about. For the last three days and nights it had either been sleeting, raining, or snowing, or else all three together; but the wind was fair, and there was every prospect of the schooner making a quick passage from Albany to Hobart. "There’s something behind this muck, Abe," remarked the mate, who, on the strength of being the "Old Man’s" brother-in-law, was on familiar terms with Captain Prout. "The old hooker won’t carry her topsails with the breeze a-freshenin’. Best be on the safe side, says I." "Quite right, Tom," agreed the skipper. "New topmasts cost a mort sight o’ money in these hard times. Anything to report?" "Nothin’," replied the mate, laconically.