"Whatever they are, I propose to give them a chase. A bird or two for dinner wouldn't be a bad idea!"
Although I had never hunted wild geese in an air ship, I agreed that it ought to be good sport.
XIII.
Steering directly after the geese on an ascending plane, we put on a tremendous spurt and soon had the whole gang squawking and floundering before us. There were hundreds, and when pressed, set the pace at a rate that made the air whizz by like a hurricane. It was intensely exciting. But the air ship was too swift to afford the slightest chance of their escape. In a few minutes we had overtaken them, broken their columns, and flown directly into the flock. Our shotguns were ready, but, strange as it may seem, we did not use them, because more than a dozen of the birds fell dead upon our deck from sheer fright, and we let the others escape. It was a strange experience; a method of hunting probably never indulged in before; and it was not at all surprising that the birds should have been frightened to death. The geese proved to be fat and a great delicacy.
We then dropped to our former level and speed, and resumed the lookout for land. Ice floes were still occasionally met, though steadily diminishing in size and apparent solidity. A few hours later we passed the last of them, and then met only an occasional chunk, or hummock, which seemed to be floating northward. We determined the direction by descending close to the surface of the water, and making a careful examination. There could be no doubt about it; the currents which carried these ice masses were trending northward. It seemed to imply some mystery, as yet unconsidered, although Torrence thought it possible that they might be vortex in character, returning again to their starting point.
At the usual hour we went below to partake of our midday meal, having first reduced our speed to a rate not exceeding ten miles an hour, not wishing to run upon anything startling during the stay below. It was fortunate we had done so, for upon coming on deck again, we saw a small blue line to starboard, apparently not more than a dozen or fifteen miles away.
"Land!" We both shouted in a breath.
Immediately we changed our course in the direction of this island, as it appeared; and while drifting toward it, considered whether we should call it Attlebridge Land or Torrence Island. Suddenly Torrence, clapping his hand to his head, exclaimed:
"If it's what I now believe it to be, we have not the right to name it!"
"And what do you believe it to be?" I asked.