“Do you suppose it’s the same gale that Mr. Jackson and the others were caught in?” asked Ned.
“Shouldn’t wonder a bit,” was the reply of the tall lad. “And if they’re in it, and it’s still blowing at this rate, they’ll be carried half-way across the Atlantic before we can catch them.”
“My gracious!” exclaimed Professor Snodgrass, “half-way across the Atlantic! That will be just the thing for me. I can get my singing fish then.”
“I hope we don’t have to go that far to rescue them,” spoke Jerry. “But if we don’t soon get out of this wind we may not get anywhere.”
“We don’t seem to be going down out of it very fast,” observed Ned, with a glance at the barograph. It still registered nearly two miles above sea level.
“That’s so,” agreed Jerry with a look at the instrument. “I wonder if anything could have happened to the depressing rudder. Maybe it doesn’t work, or it may be disconnected from the lever. In that case——”
“I’ll go outside and look,” volunteered Ned, clinging to the side wall of the pilot house in which they all were.
“No, I’ll go,” decided Jerry. “It’s risky, and——”
“You want to take all the risk,” interrupted Bob. “Let me go. I’m shorter than you, and the wind won’t have so much surface to blow on. I’ll go.”