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Page 43
Chapter XIII
OVER THE CASPIAN
The engineer had no intention of taking his ship over the wondrous
lands of Hindustan. To cross the Himalayas was to show how admirable
was the machine he commanded; to convince those who would not be
convinced was all he wished to do.
But if in their hearts Uncle Prudent and his colleague could not help
admiring so perfect an engine of aerial locomotion, they allowed none
of their admiration to be visible. All they thought of was how to
escape. They did not even admire the superb spectacle that lay
beneath them as the "Albatross" flew along the river banks of the
Punjab.
At the base of the Himalayas there runs a marshy belt of country, the
home of malarious vapors, the Terai, in which fever is endemic. But
this offered no obstacle to the "Albatross," or, in any way, affected
the health of her crew. She kept on without undue haste towards the
angle where India joins on to China and Turkestan, and on the 29th of
June, in the early hours of the morning, there opened to view the
incomparable valley of Cashmere.
Yes! Incomparable is this gorge between the major and the minor
Himalayas--furrowed by the buttresses in which the mighty range dies
out in the basin of the Hydaspes, and watered by the capricious
windings of the river which saw the struggle between the armies of
Porus and Alexander, when India and Greece contended for Central
Asia. The Hydaspes is still there, although the two towns founded by
the Macedonian in remembrance of his victory have long since
disappeared.
During the morning the aeronef was over Serinuggur, which is better
known under the name of Cashmere. Uncle Prudent and his companion
beheld the superb city clustered along both banks of the river; its
wooden bridges stretching across like threads, its villas and their
balconies standing out in bold outline, its hills shaded by tall
poplars, its roofs grassed over and looking like molehills; its
numerous canals, with boats like nut-shells, and boatmen like ants;
its palaces, temples, kiosks, mosques, and bungalows on the
outskirts; and its old citadel of Hari-Pawata on the slope of the
hill like the most important of the forts of Paris on the slope of
Mont Valerien.
"That would be Venice," said Phil Evans, "if we were in Europe."
"And if we were in Europe," answered Uncle Prudent, "we should know
how to find the way to America."
The "Albatross" did not linger over the lake through which the river
flows, but continued her flight down the valley of the Hydaspes.
For half an hour only did she descend to within thirty feet of the
river and remained stationary. Then, by means of an india-rubber
pipe, Tom Turner and his men replenished their water supply, which
was drawn up by a pump worked by the accumulators. Uncle Prudent and
Phil Evans stood watching the operation. The same idea occurred to
each of them. They were only a few feet from the surface of the
stream. They were both good swimmers. A plunge would give them their
liberty; and once they had reached the river, how could Robur get
them back again? For his propellers to work, he must keep at least
six feet above the ground.
In a moment all the chances pro and con were run over in their heads.
In a moment they were considered, and the prisoners rushed to throw
themselves overboard, when several pairs of hands seized them by the
shoulders.
They had been watched; and flight was utterly impossible.
This time they did not yield without resisting. They tried to throw
off those who held them. But these men of the "Albatross" were no
children.
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