We
need more gas, to try and rise above it."
"Bless my hanging lamp!" cried Mr. Damon, "I hope nothing happens!"
And he jumped from his berth as the Falcon plunged and staggered through
the storm that was lashing the ocean below her into white billow of
foam.
CHAPTER XII
AN ACCIDENT
For a few moments it seemed as if the Falcon would surely turn turtle
and plunge into the seething ocean. The storm had burst with such
suddenness that Tom, who was piloting his air craft, was taken unawares.
He had not been using much power or the airship would have been better
able to weather the blast that burst with such fury over her. But as it
was, merely drifting along, she was almost like a great sheet of paper.
Down she was forced, until the high-flying spray from the waves actually
wet the lower part of the car, and Ned, looking through one of the glass
windows, saw, in the darkness, the phosphorescent gleam of the water so
near to them.
"Tom!" he cried in alarm. "We're sinking!"
"Bless my bath sponge! Don't say that!" gasped Mr. Damon.
"That's why I called you," yelled the young inventor. "We've got to rise
above the storm if possible. Go to the gas machine, Ned, and turn it on
full strength. I'll speed up the motor, and we may be able to cut up
that way. But get the gas on as soon as you can.
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