Jerry and Ned hastened forward. There, floating on the ocean, which was about a thousand feet below them, was a dark mass, slowly rising and falling on the swell.
“The balloon! Wrecked!” cried Ned. “We’re too late!”
“It certainly is some sort of a wreck,” agreed Jerry, as he adjusted the telescope. He took a long look through the glass. Then he shook his head.
“I can’t make it out on account of the haze,” he said. “We’ll go down to it. Speed up the motor, Ned.”
[CHAPTER XXVII]
ATTACKED BY A WHALE
Rapidly the motorship shot downward to the surface of the sea, landing on her hydroplanes. She was about half a mile from the dark object that floated on the water, a confused mass of twisted iron, splintered wood and flapping canvas. Jerry had not dared drop any closer to it, lest a sudden gust of wind might carry the Comet against the sharp points and damage her.
“What do you make it out to be?” asked Ned, as they neared the wreck, the Comet being sent ahead by her water propeller.
“It isn’t the balloon, that’s sure,” declared Jerry. “That is, unless it’s all twisted together.”