The response was a terrible surprise. Simultaneously two searchlights were unmasked, their powerful beams at short range punctuating the fog and impinging upon the enormous envelope of the "Golden Hind," while an irregular fusillade of musketry assailed the airship on all sides.
"Up with her!" shouted Fosterdyke. "Charge all the ballonets. We've struck a revolution."
[CHAPTER XIX--VICTIMS OF A REVOLUTION]
Above the staccato of rifle-firing rose the roar of the "Golden Hind's" powerful motors. Volumes of brodium, released from the pressure-flasks, rushed into the ballonets. The airship rose at an oblique angle, her nose almost touching the ground. Then, as the aerial propellers went ahead, the fore-part of the fuselage ploughed over the rough ground.
With thirty or forty men hanging on like grim death to the guide-lines, and as many more tailing on to the grapnel ropes, the "Golden Hind," with gas leaking from numerous bullet holes in her ballonets, was unable to seek refuge in her natural element.
Fortunately for the safety of the airship's crew, the rifle-firing quickly ceased as soon as the attackers realised that they had effected her capture. Apparently it was their intention to prevent further damage being done to the huge airship.
Finding that escape was impossible and unable to offer resistance, Fosterdyke opened out one of the doors of the nacelle and raised his hands above his head. It was no disgrace in surrendering thus. Alive the crew of the "Golden Hind" could offer and receive explanations. Dead, they could not.
The appearance of the captain of the "Golden Hind" was greeted by peremptory orders, shouted in an unintelligible language. It certainly wasn't American. It seemed to Fosterdyke that it was a kind of Spanish, and since he was ignorant of that tongue he failed to grasp the meaning of the volume of directions.
Covered by scores of rifles, Fosterdyke, Kenyon, and Bramsdean headed the crew of the airship. Completely bewildered by the aggressive nature of their reception, and not knowing what fate would befall them, the position of the British airmen was critical in the extreme. Yet they bore themselves calmly and bravely, scorning to let their captors know that inwardly at least they "felt the breeze."
Deftly, as if they were well used to performing the operation, two half-breeds searched the baronet for concealed weapons. The rest of the crew were subjected to the same treatment. Finding nothing in the nature of arms, the searchers looked rather astonished and disappointed.