It was now quite dark; and as we droned our isolated way eastward and upward, nothing could be seen outside the cockpit, except the inner struts, the engines, the red-glowing vapor ejected through the exhaust pipes, and portions of the wings, which glistened in the dim moonglimmer.
I waited impatiently for the first sight of the moon, the Pole Star, and other night-time friends of every navigator.
[1] Position.
[CHAPTER V]
Night
Midnight came and went amid sullen darkness, modified only by dim moonlight and the red radiance that spurted from the motors' exhaust pipes.
By then we must have climbed to about six thousand feet, although my log shows no record of our height at this stage. Meanwhile, we were still between upper and lower ranges of cloud banks.
At a quarter past twelve Alcock took the Vickers-Vimy through the upper range, only to find a third layer of clouds, several thousand feet higher. This, however, was patchy and without continuity, so that I was able to glimpse the stars from time to time.
At 12:25 I identified through a gap to north-eastward Vega, which shone very brightly high in the heavens, and the Pole Star. With their help, and that of a cloud horizon that was clearly defined in the moonlight, not far below our level, I used the sextant to fix our position.