Throwing open one of the windows of the riddled navigation-room, Fosterdyke surveyed the crowd below. The Federal troops, in spite of their bizarre uniforms and varied equipment, were fairly well disciplined. Those not actually engaged in holding down the airship were formed up at about fifty yards from the nacelle, interested spectators of the largest airship that had ever passed over the territory of the Central American Republic.
"Let go!" shouted the baronet.
The order, interpreted by the Creole who claimed to have a knowledge of English, was obeyed promptly. The men seemed to have an inkling of what would happen if they did not, and they dropped the guide ropes as though they were hot irons.
Simultaneously, as the bows of the "Golden Hind" lifted, Kenyon telegraphed for "full ahead."
With four of the propellers purring in their accustomed way and the two after ones roaring like gigantic buzzers, as the jagged edges revolved rapidly in the air, the "Golden Hind" ascended obliquely, with her major axis inclined at an angle of forty degrees to the horizontal.
The Federal troops were waving their nondescript headgear and brandishing their rifles in token of farewell. Doubtless they were cheering and shouting also, but the noise of the airship's propellers out-voiced all extraneous sounds.
At a height of one thousand feet the six planes were trimmed and brought into action, with the result that the "Golden Hind" settled down on almost an even keel.
Four minutes later the scene of the unfortunate "regrettable incident" was lost to sight.
"Thanks be, we're up!" ejaculated Fosterdyke.