CHAPTER XII

ADRIFT IN THE STORM

The two young aviators, alive to every motion of the _Albatross_ and the movements of its operators, sat together on one of the observation benches.

“I don’t see any change in our course,” remarked Hiram, glancing from the window.

“Neither do I,” said Dave. “There’s a flash, though.”

“Yes, I saw it,” spoke Hiram, quickly. “Lightning, wasn’t it?”

“I think so. In fact, I am sure of it. Yes, it has all clouded up.”

“And a wind coming,” added Hiram. “What is it, Mr. Grimshaw?” he questioned, as there was a ring at the tube hook.

“Orders to close everything up fast and tight,” reported the veteran aeronaut.

“Then there’s a storm coming, sure enough,” said Hiram.

Even before they had all the windows closed a change of atmosphere was noticeable. A blast of wind roared around the giant airship.

“Of course, this isn’t serious,” observed Hiram.

“Oh, I think not,” rejoined the young aviator.

“If the _Albatross_ can’t weather a little land zephyr, she’s no good over the ocean.”

“Mr. King is simply taking all precautions,” said Dave.

“Whew! did you feel that!”

There was a whirl that made the young airmen think of their past experience in striking an air pocket when aboard their monoplane.

Bang! went a pitcher of water from the table in the center of the cabin.

“We’re tipping,” exclaimed Hiram.

“Yes, upwards,” said Grimshaw.

“Trying to strike a calmer upper current, I fancy,” suggested Mr. Dale.

Hiram made his way to a window and tried to peer out. The rain was beating in rattling dashes against the thick panes.

“Say,” he reported, “if you want to see a sea of black ink, come here.”

“I call it a blaze of dazzling light,” submitted Grimshaw, as there was a vivid flash of lightning, followed by a tremendous crack of thunder.

“It’s all below us now,” reported Hiram, a few minutes later.

“We must be above the storm cloud, then,” said Grimshaw.

“There’s some wind yet, I’m thinking,” observed Mr. Dale.

There came a signal from the tube bell just then. Grimshaw being nearest, took up the tube and received the message.

“You, Dashaway,” he spoke in his quick, laconic way.

“From Mr. King?”

“Yes.”

“All right.”

The young aviator left the cabin at once. All over the hull of the great airship was an electric light system. The lamps were placed at intervals along the passages, and Dave found no difficulty in threading them. He arrived at the pilot room to find Mr. King at the glass table and Professor Leblance holding his hand out through a small porthole, the inside glass shield of which was thrown back.

The airman looked serious and occupied with the various buttons on the table. The Frenchman’s face wore a somewhat anxious look.

He drew in his arm. As he did so Dave observed that his hand held a little meteorological instrument he had noticed before. It was a barometric contrivance. The professor held it up to the light and scanned its surface closely.

“It won’t do at all,” he announced. “The index is not broad enough to give exact conditions.”

“There is the aerometer, Professor,” suggested Mr. King.

“Did I not tell you I found one of its tubes shattered? Such carelessness! I would no more start across the ocean without a perfect instrument than without food.”

“Then it’s a stop?”

“Somewhere.”

“And a descent?”

“Of course.”

“When, and where?”

Professor Leblance indulged in his accustomed shrug of the shoulders.

“I dare not descend, not knowing the exact conditions below, as I stated. We are on a fair level.”

“Then why not continue till the situation clears?”

“We can only run one way.”

“Yes, with the storm, but we are not leaving the coast line to any appreciable degree.”

“That is true, but we may get too far south.”

“Oh, we can soon make that up. We will have to land near some large city, I suppose, to get what you want.”

“Not necessarily,” replied the Frenchman. “All I need is some quicksilver. I have plenty of surplus tubes.”

“Well, what is the programme?”

“Straight ahead, watching the wind gauge and the grade guide.”

“Very good.”

“I will go to the engine room.”

“Come here, Dashaway,” ordered the expert airman.

His junior assistant was prompt to gain the side of his superior.

“You understand the guide?” inquired Mr. King.

“It is on the same principle as the aeroplane apparatus?”

“Yes.”

“Then—perfectly,” assented Dave.

“Watch it closely for variations, and the wind record. If the mirror shows a deviation past the fifteen mark, notify me.”

“And the wind?”

“Over fifty miles an hour is dangerous.”

“And we will have to descend?”

“Or ascend, that’s it.”

Dave seated himself in a chair at one end of the table. The guide, a delicately adjusted instrument, recorded every variation in the progress of the airship. The wind gauge was connected by wires with a vane on top of the gas bag.

Dave turned to his duty with interest and carefulness. His monoplane experience stood him in good stead. He felt a great deal of satisfaction in realizing that he was actually sharing in operating the _Albatross_, and in addition to that learning something practical and of value.

Inside of five minutes he had mastered the requirements of the occasion and was working in entire harmony with the airman.

For over three hours the _Albatross_ was kept on as perfectly straight a course as could be mapped out.

“We seem to have encountered a heavy southwest storm of great extent,” Mr. King told him.

“Have we got to pass over its entire length before we land?” asked the young aviator.

“Professor Leblance thinks that plan best,” replied Mr. King.

It must have been nearly midnight when the Frenchman came back from the engine room.

“Superb!” was his first commendatory word. “The _Albatross_ does not seem to have strained a seam. I must congratulate you both.”

The airman smiled pleasantly at this praise and Dave bowed modestly. The professor again took the barometric readings.

“I think we have hit the tail of the wind,” he announced a few minutes later. “As soon as we are sure of it, we will make a descent.”

“What’s that?” suddenly called out the young aviator.

Boom! A great shock traversed the airship!

Boom—boom—twice in succession there followed a muffled bang, and it was apparent that the sounds were caused by some trouble in the airship.

Professor Leblance rushed from the room.