"Not if it can be avoided," protested the Staff Officer, from his elevated perch. "Why the deuce didn't they send out more pilots? You'd better go back at full speed and bring off a couple of good, experienced flying-officers. It's an urgent case; absolutely imperative that the flight be resumed without loss of time." Derek was about to order the bowman to cast off when a thought struck him. "May I come on board, sir?" he asked. "I'm a pilot." "Are you, by Jove?" rejoined the Staff Officer, who, as shown by the badges on his shoulder-straps, was a Brigadier-General. "That's fortunate! Yes, come aboard, by all means." Leaping on to the float Derek swarmed up one of the struts and gained the open hatchway on the underside of the fuselage. The sight within was an eye-opener. He had no idea of the vast strides in aerial construction that had been made since the time when he had to relinquish flying. The fuselage was nearly a hundred feet in length and entirely enclosed. It gave one the impression that it was the interior of a yacht, for on either side of the central corridor were partitioned-off compartments--cabins for passengers, officers, and crew, as well as a spacious but completely-crowded engine-room. Right amidships were the two state-rooms in the occupation of the Staff Officer and his secretary. One compartment was furnished as a combined dining- and living-room, the other as a bedroom, with aluminium cots so arranged that, at any normal angle the sea-plane might assume, they would be always horizontal. It was in the former cabin that Derek was received. There was nobody about to overhear the interview. "Can you pilot this craft to Corunna?" asked the Brigadier-General. "It is a matter of extreme national importance that I arrive there before five this afternoon. If you cannot do it, then perhaps you might be able to take the sea-plane as far as Falmouth, where I can get experienced pilots." "I can, sir," replied Derek. "You've had experience?" "Cross-Channel flights, sir; also some months' service on the Western Front." "Good enough!" exclaimed the Staff Officer. "Carry on! The engineers say there's nothing wrong with the motors." "Very good, sir," replied Derek, saluting. Entering the pilot's cabin Daventry found the two injured men. One was still insensible; the other, white-faced, was trying to make the best of his injuries. To him Derek put a few questions; then he telephoned to the engine-room, and received the reply that all was in readiness to resume the interrupted flight. Very gently the two injured officers were lowered into the still waiting motor-boat. "Carry on, coxswain!" ordered Derek. "Steer nor'-a-quarter-east and you'll pick up land within ten miles of Sableridge, even if you don't fall in with No. 21 before. Report to the C.O. that I am detained on duty, and that I will wire him directly I get ashore."