"Stop!" I cried, grasping his arm, "are you going to kill us?"
He shook me off.
"Get the water," he said, "and be quick about it."
Still I was immovable, while the air ship seemed to leap through the air at the rate of a mile a minute. I could scarcely breathe. The fiery world ahead was not a mile away. Our lungs would be consumed in that horrible incandescent vapor. No living creature could stand it. I continued to hesitate.
"Damn you!" roared Torrence; "if you don't get the water you can stand where you are and be burned. I would cross that sea if it were a thousand times hotter than hell. But I tell you I do not believe it is wide, and we shall be safely over in an hour, if you will trust me. Don't stop to talk, for I am determined, and will drag both our skeletons through to the bitter end, sooner than turn back now!"
I ran below as fast as possible after the water, for I saw that argument was useless, and my fears for Torrence's sanity were also aroused.
On reaching deck the sea was beneath, and the incandescent atmosphere around us. I saw Torrence through a yellow haze, holding fast to the lever, and cramming his handkerchief into his mouth. I staggered toward him with the bucket, and pressed a wet sponge upon his head; doing the same immediately for myself. The water saturated us, and enabled us to get our breath, which came in gasps. I plied the sponges constantly and regularly, at the same time watching the horizon for a change, with the deepest anxiety; but the sea was dazzling and the volatile gases which ascended both blinding and stifling. As far as the eye could reach, before, behind, and upon either side, great lurid flames leaped up from the ground, and beyond the limit of their powers this deadly vapor surrounded and penetrated every tissue of our being. At each breath, these poisonous gases burned and scorched their way into our lungs, shriveling our lips and throats like the fumes of sulphur. Again and again I rushed below for water, and again staggered on deck scarcely able to support my load. But it was not until the sixth or seventh trip, when the hair on our heads was positively singeing, and the skin or my brother's face looked like parchment, that I made the fearful discovery that the water was nearly out! I was drawing upon the last cask. What was to be done? It would be useless to talk to Torrence; he would drive the air ship into hell before he would turn back, as he had already said. Should I endeavor to overpower him, seize the lever myself, and retreat, if indeed it were yet possible to do so? or should I die in furthering his insane determination? I crawled on deck with the last bucket of water, still undecided.
"The water is out!" I yelled through the roaring of the flames. "Do you still persist?"
Torrence did not answer, but pointed below, and in an agony of horror I saw what he meant. Our end was at hand; for the vessel was sinking into the fiery mass beneath.
"It's the heat!" he said hoarsely. "It's too late to talk about returning. The fire has damaged the vibrator. We can't keep her afloat an hour to save our souls; and the end may be nearer ahead than behind us!"