"Are there any vessels in sight?" he asked.
A look-out man had been scanning the wide expanse of sea for the last ten minutes.
"Nothing in sight, Herr kapitan," he announced.
By this time Z64 was well beyond the storm-area. The sea, now a bare 3000 feet below, was no longer white with angry crested waves, but by the aid of binoculars it could be seen that there was a long swell running.
"Then there's nothing to be done unless we make use of the Albatross," declared von Sinzig. "I will go and look for a ship."
Hans Leutter and those of the crew who heard the count's resolve received the proposal in stony silence. They all recognised that their kapitan was violating the traditions of the sea and the air by being the first to abandon his command. Of the crew at least four were capable of flying the small but powerful monoplane, so there was no excuse on that score of von Sinzig being the only man able to take the Albatross up.
In obedience to a peremptory order the crew hurriedly prepared the monoplane for her flight. The Albatross, nominally used for starting from and alighting on the ground, was adapted for marine work by having three small floats, the lower portions of which were just above the wheel base line, so that the monoplane could be used either as an ordinary machine or as a seaplane.
In the present circumstances von Sinzig elected to start from the air. The Albatross, suspended by a quick release gear from the underside of the 'midship gondola, was ready before the airship had dropped to a thousand feet.
"You will be quite safe," reiterated the count. "I'll send the first vessel I meet to your assistance. It may be a matter of a few hours. All ready? Let go."
The monoplane's motor was already running slowly. Directly von Sinzig felt the Albatross had parted company with her gigantic parent he opened "all out." At a hundred and thirty miles an hour he was soon lost to sight.