CHAPTER XXVIII SURROUNDED BY GERMAN ZEPPELINS

The war had by this time begun to pall upon the boys, and Alan voiced the sentiments of all four when he said:

“I’m sick of all this treachery, thunder of cannon, wails from the wretched common people and indiscriminate bloodshed. The United States is good enough for yours truly, and I wish that I was there right now.”

So it was decided that the _Ocean Flyer_ be headed homeward without further delay and, after bidding good-bye to the genial von Schleinitz and Racoszky and his courageous little wife, the boys early one morning started their engines and let the hectic life of Vienna sink into a miniature panorama far beneath them.

The course was set northwesterly and a spanking breeze in a murky sky accelerated their speed.

“Off for America again at last!” shouted Bob jubilantly, and the other boys echoed him in three rousing cheers.

By ten o’clock, however, there was a marked change in the atmosphere. The barometer fell low in the glass, and every delicate instrument in the pilot room gave ominous indications of nasty weather.

Ned’s face showed his worry, but he forced a cheerful smile before his chums.

“It will blow over, I am sure,” he said.

The _Flyer_ was being held to an elevation of perhaps 2,500 feet. The lower cloud banks cut off all view of the world beneath, and Alan suggested that they descend to a lower level where, although they might feel the effects of the rainstorm from the clouds, the rapidly increasing velocity of the wind would not hold them so surely in its grip.

Ned listened to the demoniacal shrieks of the wind as the _Flyer_ scudded along, and was not slow to acknowledge the common sense of Alan’s advice. So the airship was dropped down to a considerably lower level below the clouds.

In that region a terrible storm was raging. The thunder burst in crashes that seemed louder than ten thousand cannon. The air vibrated with the shocks. Appalling zigzags of lightning shot yellow across the sky. The rain fell in torrents from an inky sky and dashed dismally against the metal sides of the speeding airship.

Being mistrustful of air eddies or whirlpool currents as a result of the hurricane, Ned reduced the _Flyer’s_ speed to the minimum. As he wisely observed, “No use taking unnecessary chances.”

Thus the big vessel fled before the storm for half an hour or more when, with astonishing suddenness, the reverberations of thunder ceased and the sun turned the rainfall into a fog so dense that it seemed that the _Flyer_ was cutting its way through a solid substance. It became so dark inside that the boys had to turn on the electric lights.

“I don’t like this at all,” muttered Ned at last, as he strained his eyes through the mist-clouded observation-port.

“Well, anyway, we aren’t flying low enough to hit any trees or church steeples,” grinned Bob.

“No, but all the same I don’t like to keep going even this slowly through vapor as thick as this is. If I could only see the character of the ground below, I’d try to make a landing.”

The earth, however, continued wholly shrouded and Ned had to hold on his unwilling way.

It was perhaps a quarter of an hour later that Buck, who had been calculating at the speedometer, and referring to various charts, announced that the _Ocean Flyer_ was probably over northern Germany. Shortly afterward the increasing strength of the sun’s rays began to dissipate the fog, which assumed fantastic forms that writhed and squirmed as they floated away into nothingness. It amused the boys to pick out these patches of mist and to note their outline resemblance to one animal or another.

“There’s a cow!” laughed Bob, pointing.

“And over there is a giraffe--see his long neck?”

“Look straight ahead, boys, and see the bologna sausage,” called Ned from his station at the wheel.

Sure enough--there it was, gigantic and dull gray, directly ahead of them. But strange to say, while it kept moving along in the same direction as the _Flyer_, it did not soon dissolve into thin air. Instead of that it took vast tangible form. Other vapor forms began to appear transparent beside it. The vague outlines of complicated rigging extending down from the sausage became easily apparent. Then a suspended metal body, punctured with many windows, appeared.

By this time the speeding _Ocean Flyer_ was almost upon it, and only Ned’s presence of mind in veering the huge right side planes abruptly averted a sure collision. The _Flyer_ swept down past the other huge voyager of the sky at an acute angle and did not right itself until a considerable distance below.

“Holy smoke!” gasped Bob. “What is that curious looking thing?”

Ned was deadly pale, but his lips were pressed grimly together.

“That, boys,” said he, “is one of the famous German armored Zeppelins. Look up there to the left--three more of them sailing close together. See over there to the right--two more of them. I can see more flitting along down below us, and I think that there are more ahead. We have descended into the very midst of them. Look out for trouble now, because I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts that this is the long-dreaded aerial raid upon England!”