None of the ships had their propellers going as yet, since those in charge of them wished to attain a certain height and get in a favorable air current before moving forward.
No sooner, however, did Mr. Glassford start his motor than explosions began to sound from the other five craft. The big propellers of the Comet began to revolve, and the ship, feeling the influence of them, darted forward.
The conditions of the race were that the ships were to head, as nearly as possible, toward New Orleans. This was almost directly south of the place from where they had started. Of course, it was not expected that they would all reach the city of molasses fame, but that point was set at the farthest limit to which it was thought any machine would get.
In the steering tower Mr. Glassford listened with a critical ear to the song of the motor and other machinery of his craft.
“She’s working like a daisy,” he said enthusiastically. “If nothing happens, boys, we’ll win one prize, anyhow.”
It was a wonderful sight to see the great airships—six of them—high in the air, all headed in one direction. They looked like great birds, especially the Comet, with its broad white aeroplanes. Her pointed nose was headed almost south, as indicated by the compass, and Mr. Glassford, as engineer, gradually increased the speed of the motor.
At first the six ships were about on a line, moving forward together, and at about the same height. Then the big red one shot ahead, taking a place in the lead.
“Don’t let her beat us,” begged Bob.
“Don’t worry,” advised Mr. Glassford. “The race has only started. I can catch up if I want to. But I’m going a little higher. I think I can get into a swifter current of air.”