Captain Restronguet occupied a seat immediately behind and slightly higher than the pilot, while Hythe sat behind the biplane. Jenkins vaulted agilely into his place, motioned to the attendants to stand clear and thrust home the clutch of the propeller shaft.
The aero-hydro-craft leapt over the ground for about twenty yards with a jerk that nearly capsized the two passengers; then soaring upwards it cleared the courtyard wall by barely six feet, passed over the upturned faces of a crowd of natives in the roadway, and shot rapidly across the harbour.
The motion was exhilarating, but the air, by contrast with the heat ashore, was cold and cutting to the faces of the passengers. Hythe realized that aeroplaning in white ducks, even in the Tropics, was rather out of place.
"Look, sir," he exclaimed. "There's the 'Topaze' going out."
"That's rotten luck," replied Captain Restronguet leaning sideways to watch the cruiser, that, a thousand feet below, looked no larger than a model boat. "Your friend Dewerstone has given the show away."
"I think not," replied the sub confidently. "He told me he was on leave till the day after to-morrow."
"Where's your ship, Tretheway?" shouted Jenkins.
"Away beyond Bawi Island. There she is."
"Rum looking craft, anyway," commented the aviator. "Looks more like a dog's kennel to me."
"Thanks," remarked Captain Restronguet in an undertone; then louder he added, "She's hove-to. If you come down within hailing distance they'll range up alongside to pick us up; they haven't a boat."