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Page 37
Uncle Prudent and Phil Evans had quite made up their minds to escape.
If they had not had to deal with the eight particularly vigorous men
who composed the crew of the aeronef they might have tried to succeed
by main force. But as they were only two--for Frycollin could only
be considered as a quantity of no importance--force was not to be
thought of. Hence recourse must be had to strategy as soon as the
"Albatross" again took the ground. Such was what Phil Evans
endeavored to impress on his irascible colleague, though he was in
constant fear of Prudent aggravating matters by some premature
outbreak.
In any case the present was not the time to attempt anything of the
sort. The aeronef was sweeping along over the North Pacific. On the
following morning, that of June 16th, the coast was out of sight. And
as the coast curves off from Vancouver Island up to the Aleutians--
belonging to that portion of America ceded by Russia to the United
States in 1867--it was highly probable that the "Albatross" would
cross it at the end of the curve, if her course remained unchanged.
How long the night appeared to be to the two friends! How eager they
were to get out of their cabins! When they came on deck in the
morning the dawn had for some hours been silvering the eastern
horizon. They were nearing the June solstice, the longest day of the
year in the northern hemisphere, when there is hardly any night along
the sixtieth parallel.
Either from custom or intention Robur was in no hurry to leave his
deck-house, When he came out this morning be contented himself with
bowing to his two guests as he passed them in the stern of the
aeronef.
And now Frycollin ventured out of his cabin. His eyes red with
sleeplessness, and dazed in their look, he tottered along, like a man
whose foot feels it is not on solid ground. His first glance was at
the suspensory screws, which were working with gratifying regularity
without any signs of haste. That done, the Negro stumbled along to
the rail, and grasped it with both hands, so as to make sure of his
balance. Evidently he wished to view the country over which the
"Albatross" was flying at the height of seven hundred feet or more.
At first he kept himself well back behind the rail. Then he shook it
to make sure it was firm; then he drew himself up; then he bent
forward; then he stretched out his head. It need not be said that
while he was executing these different maneuvers he kept his eyes
shut. At last he opened them.
What a shout! And how quickly he fled! And how deeply his head sank
back into his shoulders! At the bottom of the abyss he had seen the
immense ocean. His hair would have risen on end--if it had not been
wool.
"The sea! The sea!" he cried. And Frycollin would have fallen on the
deck had not the cook opened his arms to receive him.
This cook was a Frenchman, and probably a Gascon, his name being
Francois Tapage. If he was not a Gascon he must in his infancy have
inhaled the breezes of the Garonne. How did this Francois Tapage find
himself in the service of the engineer? By what chain of accidents
had he become one of the crew of the "Albatross?" We can hardly say;
but in any case be spoke English like a Yankee. "Eh, stand up!" he
said, lifting the Negro by a vigorous clutch at the waist.
"Master Tapage!" said the poor fellow, giving a despairing look at
the screws.
"At your service, Frycollin."
"Did this thing ever smash?"
"No, but it will end by smashing."
"Why? Why?"
"Because everything must end.
"And the sea is beneath us!"
"If we are to fall, it is better to fall in the sea."
"We shall be drowned."
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