While conversation was in progress between Fosterdyke and the master of the S.S. _Diaphanous_, a wire hawser had been lowered from the bows of the airship and made fast to the tramp’s after-winch. Since she was steaming dead in the eye of the wind there was no necessity for her to alter helm. The "Golden Hind," pitching slightly, was towed astern of and thirty feet above the tramp. As the airship’s course was almost identical with that of the tramp Fosterdyke conscientiously kept the propellers revolving, since, even in the present circumstances, he did not wish to give his rivals a chance of raising a protest on the score that the flight of the British airship had been mechanically aided. The seventeen Germans showed no great enthusiasm at being placed on board the tramp. At first they imagined that the _Diaphanous_ was bound for the Pacific. Even the prospect of being dumped ashore at Naples was not at all attractive. When they did make a move they descended the rope-ladder so slowly and deliberately that it was obvious they meant to detain the "Golden Hind" as much as possible. "I see through their little game," exclaimed Fosterdyke, angrily. "Make ’em get a move on, Jackson." The Leading Hand wanted no further bidding. Ably seconded by Chief Air Mechanic Hayward, he gave vent to such a flow of forcible language, accompanied by realistic dumbshow, that the Huns changed their tactics completely. It was even necessary to check their impetuosity, lest the ladder should break under the weight of too many men descending simultaneously. Then, with a joyous toot on her syren as the hawser was cast off, and a stentorian greeting from the Mercantile Marine skipper, the _Diaphanous_ gathered way, while the "Golden Hind," almost as buoyant as of yore, rose steadily and rapidly against the gentle breeze. Two hours later land--the Moroccan coast--was sighted on the starboard bow. Then fifty minutes later Fosterdyke touched Kenyon on the shoulder and pointed dead ahead to a faint object rising above the horizon. "Guess we’ve done the trick, barring accidents," he observed. "That’s Gibraltar." CHAPTER XXIV--WITHIN SIGHT OF SUCCESS Count Karl von Sinzig had not started upon his long solo flight in the Albatross without studiously calculating his chances. He knew the machine and its capabilities, and, given ordinary luck, he saw no reason why he should not make a landing on Spanish soil, replenish fuel, and carry on to his hangar in Estremadura before his hated rival arrived at Gibraltar. Even if there were delays in obtaining petrol, he still had a useful lead, thanks to his twelve hours’ start in advance of the "Golden Hind." The two hundred extra miles he had to cover beyond Gibraltar was a mere bagatelle--a question of an hour and twenty minutes’ flight.