Driven only by four propellers, her preciously scanty supply of brodium sadly depleted, and with the controls of the two after planes damaged by the flames, the "Golden Hind" was in a perilous state. She was just able, and no more, to overcome the attraction of gravity. How long she would be able to maintain herself in the air was a problem of supposition. Had the "Golden Hind" been supported by hydrogen gas nothing could have saved her. The overcoming of the flames was a triumph for the fire-resisting properties of brodium. The patent gas had been put to one of the severest tests--an actual fire in mid-air--and had emerged with flying colours. From the time of the alarm being raised until the fire was subdued only half an hour had elapsed. The smoke-grimed and fatigued crew were glad to rest, while Fosterdyke and Peter returned to the navigation-room, there to wash and replace their singed and reeking clothes with others from Kenyon’s and Bramsdean’s kit-bags. The baronet had to borrow a suit. The one he was wearing was in holes, while all his others on board were destroyed when his cabin was burnt out. Fosterdyke was cheerful. In fact he was jocular. He realised that things might have been far worse; he was glad to find that the "Golden Hind" was still navigable and that none of his crew had sustained injury. "This comes of boasting, Kenyon," he remarked. "I said we’d be in Gib. in an hour. We stood a chance of being in ’Kingdom Come.’ What’s she doing now?" "Not more than eighty, sir," replied Kenneth, "and we’ve a stiffish wind to contend with." "Eighty, eh? Not so dusty, considering we’re trailing the wreckage of my cabin astern, and there’s only four props to shove us along. She’s dipping, though." "She is, sir," agreed Kenyon, gravely. "I’ve trimmed the planes to their maximum. That tends to shove her nose up, but if I didn’t she’d sit on her tail." "We’ll finish at the tape like an aerial Cleopatra’s Needle," declared Fosterdyke. "Hello! There’s Tangier. That strip of blue you can just see beyond is the Straits of Gibraltar. We’re a bit to the east’ard of our course." Another half an hour of strenuous battling against heavy odds brought the "Golden Hind" immediately to the west of Ceuta. Ahead could be discerned the famous rock, although viewed from an altitude and "end on" its well-known appearance as a lion couchant was absent. But the "Golden Hind" had shot her bolt. "We’re baulked at the tape," declared Fosterdyke. "This head wind’s doing us. Hard lines, but we must take things as we find them." Like von Sinzig he had been beaten by the head wind, but Fosterdyke, instead of raving and cursing like his German rival, accepted the situation philosophically. It was hard lines, failing within sight of the goal; but the baronet kept a stiff upper lip. He had done everything humanly possible to achieve his aim. He could do no more.