In the floor of the bow compartment of the "Golden Hind" the large trap-hatch had been opened. Close by crouched men ready to lower away a wire rope, at the end of which a small electric bulb glowed to enable the destroyer's crew to locate the line in the dark. Throughout the manoeuvre neither the "Golden Hind" nor the Zeebrugge made use of their searchlights, since the dazzling rays might baffle the respective helmsmen and result in a collision.
Slowly and gracefully the airship dropped until her fuselage was thirty feet from the surface of the sea. She was now dead in the wake of the destroyer, and the task that confronted Kenyon was to bring her ahead sufficiently for the bows to overlap the Zeebrugge's stern. An error of judgment at that low height would result in the airship's bows fouling the destroyer's mast.
Foot by foot the "Golden Hind" gained upon the destroyer until a shout from the latter's deck announced that the wire rope had been made fast.
Instantly the airship's six motors were declutched. She was now moving merely under the towing action of the Zeebrugge, which was forging ahead at a bare four knots.
From the trap-hatch in the airship's bows a rope-ladder was lowered, its end being held by a couple of bluejackets on the T.B.D. Without loss of time Fosterdyke swarmed up the swaying ladder, and was followed by Bramsdean.
"Cast off, and thank you!" shouted the baronet.
"All gone," came an answering voice from the Zeebrugge, followed by a hearty "Best of luck to you!"
Released, the "Golden Hind" leapt a full five hundred feet into the air before the propellers began to revolve.
"Cheerio, Kenyon!" exclaimed Fosterdyke, as he joined Kenneth in the navigation-room. "All's well that ends well, but you gave me a pretty bad turn. What happened?"
"Hardly know, sir," replied Kenyon. "Our wire rope didn't part. Possibly the shackle on the buoy gave. But we found a man hanging on the end of the wire."