Every one of the crew realised the danger of being entangled in the wreckage. In a trice the water was dotted with heads and shoulders of life-belted swimmers as the crew struck out to get clear of the sinking airship, and presently Fosterdyke was surrounded by a little mob of undaunted men. "Thank heaven!" ejaculated the baronet, after a hasty count. "None missing. Keep together, lads, there’s a vessel bearing down on us." Not one but four craft were hastening to the rescue. Amongst these was the T.B.D. _Zeebrugge_, which, eighteen days previously, had gone to search for the derelict "Golden Hind" and had placed Sir Reginald Fosterdyke on board. Fortunately the water was warm, and in spite of a fairly high sea running the late crew of the "Golden Hind" were taken aboard the destroyer. Fosterdyke and the others, declining to go below, stood on deck and watched the end of the airship that had taken them safely for nearly twenty-eight thousand miles, to perish within five miles of the Rock of Gibraltar, her official starting-point. The end was not long delayed. The buckling of the aluminium envelope resulted in ballonet after ballonet collapsing under the pressure of water. The fuselage had already disappeared. Bow and stern, nearly four hundred feet apart, reared themselves high in the air; then, with a terrific rush of mingled brodium and air that caused a seething cauldron around each of the extremities of the envelope, the last of the "Golden Hind" sank beneath the waves. "Rough luck losing such a fine airship," commiserated the Lieut.-Commander of the destroyer. "It is," agreed Fosterdyke, feelingly. "Especially as she is my own design and I superintended every bit of her construction. It was a pity, too, we didn’t hang on for another half an hour. I’d have jockeyed her over the Rock somehow." "It was a brilliant achievement, Sir Reginald," said the naval officer. "Every sportsman will sympathise with you, but I’m sure they’ll shout: ’Well played, sir!’" "Any news of the other competitors?" asked Peter. "Yes. Commodore Nye, the Yankee, is still stranded in Australia, but I suppose you know that. Count Hyashi, the Jap, crashed somewhere near Saigon. He, too, was almost home." "Jolly hard lines," murmured Kenyon, sympathetically. "Was he hurt?" "No, hardly bruised, but a bit shaken. Engine failure, they say," continued the Lieut.-Commander. "That leaves only the Hun to be accounted for." "And I suppose he’s completed the circuit?" remarked Fosterdyke, questioningly. The naval officer laughed. "Completing the circuit of a prison-yard!" he exclaimed. "That’s about his mark. A Spanish yacht brought Count von Sinzig in this morning and handed him over to the Port Admiral. It’ll be a three years’ job, I fancy. Huns must learn that they can’t bomb British air stations in peace time with impunity."