Jerry shifted the handles manipulating the planes, while Mr. Glassford steered the ship to one side to take some of the wind pressure off the big areas of taut muslin. An instant later the Comet swung around and floated level. The worth of the aeroplanes had been quickly demonstrated. Without them the ship could not have been so easily managed.
On and on rushed the motor ship, the powerful propellers fairly pulling her through the air. They had left the lighted city far behind, and were now over what was probably open country, for there was no illumination.
Suddenly, with a fierceness that was appalling, the storm broke upon them. There came a dash of rain, accompanied by thunder and lightning, and the fury of the blast fairly bore the craft down.
“We’re falling!” cried Ned as he looked at the hand of the elevation gage and noted that they were steadily approaching the earth.
“Keep cool!” called Jerry from the pilot house.
At the same instant the ship shot upward, for Mr. Glassford, realizing the danger, had shifted the lever to tilt the rudder, and the Comet began to ascend. But as they went higher the storm became worse, until they were right in the midst of it.
All at once the wind shifted, and instead of blowing from the northeast, so as to send the ship in a southeasterly direction, it blew from the east, full, driving the travelers to the west.
“That isn’t the way we want to go,” remarked Bob. “New Orleans doesn’t lie in that direction.”
“I guess we can’t help ourselves,” spoke Ned. “It’s a bad storm.”