He held tight.

For a second or so he could not lift his eyes.
Some hundred feet or more sheer below him was one of the big wind-vanes of south-west London, and beyond it the southernmost flying stage crowded with little black dots.

These things seemed to be falling away from him.
For a second he had an impulse to pursue the earth.

He set his teeth, he lifted his eyes by a muscular effort, and the moment of panic passed.
He remained for a space with his teeth set hard, his eyes staring into the sky.

Throb, throb, throb--beat, went the engine; throb, throb, throb--beat.