“Well, I only hope one thing,” spoke Bob, as he began to make some sandwiches for himself and his chums, “and that is that this submarine doesn’t try to blow up, or sink, the Hassen with my uncle and cousin on board.”
“Nonsense! There’s about as much danger of that happening as there is of the moon falling on us,” said Jerry, with a laugh.
“I guess Bob means he doesn’t want the submarine to tackle that ship his uncle is on until he finds out what it is that his respected relative is bringing over,” spoke Ned.
“Or until he introduces us to his pretty cousin,” added Jerry with a smile. “Eh, Bob?”
“Oh, you fellows make me tired. Here, take some of this grub. I’m hungry.”
“Your usual state,” commented Ned, drily.
Perhaps my new readers may think it strange that the boys could talk thus lightly while trying to escape from a bad storm in an airship, but my old friends will understand of what sort of material Bob, Ned and Jerry were made. They were used to danger—not that they courted it, but when it came they could meet it face to face, and they seldom allowed it to get on their nerves. And their talk, in this case, was calculated to restore their own confidence for, in a measure, it took their attention from the fury of the elements.
And there was fury and to spare. The wind seemed to increase in violence every moment, and the rain, beating on the roof of the cabin, almost drowned the sound of their voices, and hushed the hum of the machinery and the whine of the dynamos.
It was fortunate, in a way, that the craft was not manœuvering as an aeroplane, for the broad expanse of the wing and rudder planes would have offered so much resistance to the wind that the Comet might have turned turtle. As it was, some of the planes had been folded back out of the way. This was a new improvement in the boys’ craft, and one that enabled it to be used to better advantage as a dirigible balloon.