Leaving Kenyon to take charge of the navigation-room, and cautioning him to keep the "Golden Hind" dead in the eye of the wind, and as fast as she could possibly go, Fosterdyke and Peter hastened aft.
They found the alley-way thick with smoke, for on the well-known principle that "the wind follows the ship" the draught was carrying the fumes within the nacelle in a forward direction.
A man wearing a smoke helmet brushed past them. It was Hayward going to find some fire-extinguishers. Others of the crew, who had hastily donned masks to protect themselves from the choking vapour, were busily engaged in hurling pyrene into the seat of the conflagration.
Although the speed of the "Golden Hind" through the air fanned the flames, Fosterdyke had done well to order speed to be maintained. The velocity had the effect of compelling the fire to trail astern instead of spreading upwards and thus destroying the envelope. Even as it was the heat had caused the non-inflammable brodium to expand, giving the envelope a tendency to trim down by the head.
"Petrol tank to No. 5 motor, sir," reported a grimy and perspiring mechanic, who through sheer exhaustion and being partly gassed by the noxious fumes had to withdraw from the fray. "Went up all of a sudden, like. Never saw such a flare up in all my life, sir; but we're getting it under."
It was indeed a stiff fight. In a few seconds the area of the fire had attained such large dimensions that it was impossible to reach the actual source. The fire-fighters had first to subdue the fringe of the conflagration, and by the time they had done this several of them were hors de combat by reason of the suffocating gases thrown off by the oxygen-exterminating pyrene. Above the crackling of the flames came the sharp tang of the suspension wires holding the nacelle to the aluminium envelope as they parted under the terrific heat.
Not only were the crew faced with the danger of the fire getting the upper hand; the while there was the chance of a portion of the fuselage becoming detached from the gas-bag, and the prospect of being hurled through space from a height of eight or nine thousand feet above the sea was one that might well in cold blood put fear into the heart of the bravest of the brave. But in the heat of action the crew, knowing the danger, faced the risk manfully. Working in relays, they plied the flames with the fire-extinguishing chemicals. As fast as one man fell out, temporarily overcome by the fumes and the terrific heat, another took his place until the fire was overcome. Even then the danger was not over. There was still a possibility of the smouldering fuselage being fanned into a blaze. Parts of the aluminium framework and panelling were warped and twisted into fantastic shapes. Snake-like coils of wire indicated the fact that several of the highly important connections between the fuselage and the envelope had been burnt through. Whether a sufficient number of tension wires remained to adequately support the afterpart of the nacelle remained a matter of doubt.
Unaccountably the petrol tank feeding No. 5 motor had taken fire. The pipes and unions had been frequently examined and found to be in good order. In fact, Hayward had personally inspected the fittings of that particular tank less than a quarter of an hour before the outbreak.
The damage was serious. Both Nos. 5 and 6 motors were out of action, the former showing signs of crashing through the charred framework of the fuselage. The flames had spread to Fosterdyke's cabin, completely gutting it. Only a few aluminium frames were left, and these, blackened and bent, trailed forlornly astern like a gaunt skeleton.
With the contraction of the brodium after the fire had been quelled the envelope, instead of tending to tilt aft, now showed a tendency to droop. The heat had melted the solder of the union pipes through which the gas was passed either to or from the metal pressure flasks, and several thousand feet of brodium had escaped.