“I’ll notify her,” he said. “Hold the wire.”
A moment later a shout came from Joe.
“She’s rising!” he cried. “She must have got the doctor’s message. She’s heading toward the southeast.”
Two minutes later Doctor Dale’s voice came over the wire.
“I warned her,” he said. “And I’ve just got this answer:
“‘Clintonia. Thanks for message. Are getting her under control. All well on board. No fatal damage to the craft. Are confident of riding the gale and taking her home.’”
Bob thanked the doctor, ran upstairs, and reported.
“There spoke the spirit of the United States Navy airmen!” exclaimed the captain, with justifiable pride in his arm of the service.
They watched the great dirigible, as she tacked and slanted, jockeying to take advantage of the gale, and finally disappeared in the darkness. Then, still quivering with excitement, they retraced their way down the stairs.
“Another victory for radio!” exclaimed Bob. “Perhaps that message saved her from destruction.”