Then, indeed, for a time I felt the grim thrill of life. I crawled
forward to the cords of the release valves, made my uncle crawl forward
too, and let out the gas until we were falling down through the air like
a clumsy glider towards the vague greyness that was land.
Something must have intervened here that I have forgotten.
I saw the lights of Bordeaux when it was quite dark, a nebulous haze
against black; of that I am reasonably sure. But certainly our fall
took place in the cold, uncertain light of early dawn. I am, at least,
equally sure of that. And Mimizan, near where we dropped, is fifty miles
from Bordeaux, whose harbour lights I must have seen.
I remember coming down at last with a curious indifference, and actually
rousing myself to steer. But the actual coming to earth was exciting
enough. I remember our prolonged dragging landfall, and the difficulty
I had to get clear, and how a gust of wind caught Lord Roberts B as my
uncle stumbled away from the ropes and litter, and dropped me heavily,
and threw me on to my knees.
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