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WE FLEW AROUND THE WORLD - FIRST!

follow, and we were elated at our speed. Flying 8 to 10 hours a day, we found few opportunities to rest. We reached Paris on July14 - Bastille Day - to be met at Le Bourget by a crowd second in size only to the one on hand for Charles Lindbergh three years later. We barely had time to change clothes before being rushed to the Folies-Bergere, where we fell asleep as the scantily clad girls pranced practically in our laps. 

When we reached London, we were three quarters of the way around the world. But the treacherous North Atlantic still lay ahead.

London to Boston: 4310 miles. 

Leaving London to July 17, we stopped in Hull to change engines and reinstall pontoons. Then on to Kirkwall in the Orkney Islands, at the northwest tip of Scotland. Our three planes left Kirkwall on August 3, headed non-stop for Iceland. Immediately, we ran into fog so thick that we had to drop down once more to about give feet above the water. smith and I returned to Kirkwall. Nelson kept going, reaching Hornafjordur  on the southeast coast of Iceland after 9 hours and 3 minutes in the air, flying nearly blind all the way.

Smith and I took off from Kirkwall the next morning. An hour and a half later, as we flew together in clear skies, my oil pump failed. I had to land on the open sea. The engine damage could not be repaired on the water, so I signaled with my arms to Smith, who was circling overhead, that I needed help. He headed off toward the Faeroe Islands, the nearest land. On the way, he passed over a U.S. Navy destroyer and dropped a message to it, reporting our approximate location.

It's a nasty business, bobbing up and down in 20-foot-high waves. The planes could break apart at any minute. Ogden and I were scared and miserable, cold and seasick. Agonizing hours passed; a drizzling rain started. Never have I felt so lonesome. What was I doing here anyway? What was I trying to prove? Then Ogden roused me with a shout: "A ship!"

It was a British trawler, and it started towing us toward the Faeroes. Suddenly, the Navy destroyer that had been signaled by Smith arrived, followed by the cruiser USS Richmond. The Richmond took us in tow. Next morning, just a mile off the Faeroes, the cruiser's captain said to me, "Our charts aren't too good for this coast, and we can't maneuver quickly while towing your plane. There is real danger of piling up on the rocks if we don't cut it loose."

The decision was left to me - the safety of the men and the ship against my own desire to get my plane repaired and continue the flight. The hardest words I have ever had to speak were: "Abandon the airplane."

Sailors went down ropes to the plane hacked holes in the pontoons, and let it sink. I stayed in my cabin, unable to watch the death throes.

The Richmond took us to Iceland,