Swooping past the new semaphore tower, and skimming above the lofty chimneys of the electric light station, the "Meteor" shaped a course towards the Town Hall clock tower. So quickly did she turn that it seemed as if a straight line between the bow and stern would cut the masonry of the tower. Looking aft the appearance of the twelve hundred feet of airship reminded Dacres of a train taking a curve. Her starboard planes were within twenty feet of the cupola of the tower.
But the helmsman knew his business. He was well to leeward of the improvised "pylon," and before the thousand of spectators gathered in the Town Hall square could recover from their astonishment the "Meteor" was heading back to the dockyard.
Slowly, with her propellers revolving enough to keep her up against the breeze, the Dreadnought of the Air hovered over the Government establishment, seeking a place where she could come to rest. The swarm of vessels in the harbour made it impossible for her to descend without great risk to the spectators.
"There's the semaphore working," announced Dacres, pointing to the two arms that were set at the "preparatory" sign.
In response to an order, one of the "Meteor's" crew, armed with two hand flags, made his way up to the platform of the promenade deck. As soon as he replied, the semaphore began to spell out the message:—
"Berth ready for airship in Fountain Lake," said Dacres, translating the signal for his chief's information. "That's on the north side of the Dockyard and between it and Whale Island."
"Easy ahead," ordered Whittinghame; then, "Stop her."
A series of hisses, similar to the sounds that Dacres had heard when he first beheld the "Meteor," announced that the contents of several of the ballonettes were being pumped out and forced into the metal cylinders. Slowly and on an even keel the giant bulk sank lower and lower till a gentle roll announced that the airship was riding head to wind upon the sheltered waters of Portsmouth Harbour. The "Meteor" had made her debut.