It was a struggle between the forces of nature and those of man, and the machinery won. Slowly the airship was forced down on a slant until, finally piercing through the strata that represented the terrific wind, she came to a calm region about two thousand feet above the sea. Then, bringing her to a level keel, Jerry sent the craft onward.
“And not a sign of the Manhattan,” remarked Ned, a little later, when the motor had been slowed down to its usual speed.
“No,” spoke Jerry, “but the search isn’t over yet. I’m sure we’re going in the right direction, though. The hurricane did us that much service, for it’s evident that the missing balloon was caught just as we were, only they haven’t powerful enough machinery to get out of it. Now we’ll keep on at this level, and in this direction.”
Nothing developed the rest of that day. They flew onward slowly, taking turns scanning the air about them through a powerful telescope for a sight of the dirigible containing the man whose aid was so greatly needed by Mr. Slade. But the Manhattan was not seen.
At night they set the powerful searchlight aglow, hoping that it might be observed by those whom they sought, and who possibly could send out a signal, indicating their position. But no signal came. Thus two more days passed, and the Comet at times was sent about, back over the air-line over which they had come, for Jerry feared they might have passed the missing balloon in the night.
Several times they dropped to the surface of the ocean, to give Professor Snodgrass a chance to use his net in an endeavor to get the singing fish. But his efforts were unsuccessful.
“It seems as if there was a hoodoo on this trip,” spoke Ned gloomily, one morning as they were sailing along. “We missed Mr. Jackson at every point, and now no one knows where he is.”
“Oh, we’ll find him yet,” said Jerry cheerfully. “I tell you what let’s do: go down on the hydroplanes and fish! Some fresh fish would go good for dinner; eh, Chunky?”
“Sure. I’ll fry ’em brown in corn-meal. Send her down, Jerry.”