"Rather hard on her helm, sir," replied that worthy. "She wants to come round to port, sir."
"I thought so," rejoined the Captain. "That's caused by the unequal drive of the starboard engines. We must carry on and risk the consequences."
He glanced at the speed indicator. The "Meteor" was still travelling through the air at one hundred and twenty miles an hour.
"We're gaining thirty at least on that villain," continued Vaughan. For the time being he appeared to give slight attention to the damage done to his beloved airship. His whole thoughts were centred upon the pursuit of Durango.
Only ten more minutes to sunset.
"Get the two bow searchlights connected up," ordered the Captain. "See that new carbons are used. It will be like chasing a mouse by candlelight, but we——"
"There she is, sir!" interrupted Callaghan excitedly.
"Where?" asked Whittinghame, rushing to one of the scuttles on the port bow, and following the direction of the Irishman's outstretched arm. "You're right, Callaghan. Hurrah! We've overtaken her."
Such indeed was the case. Evidently Durango had gone a couple of points out of his course in the dash across the mouth of the Gulf of Guayaquil. Consequently, although the crew of the "Meteor" were unaware of it until a few moments previously, the airship had drawn level with her quarry, but on a divergent course; while—another point in her favour—she was between the flying-boat and the shores of Equador.
"Starboard your helm, quartermaster," ordered the Captain.