True it was that the expanse of the gas-bags offered a large surface to the gale, but this could not be avoided. It was absolutely necessary to have them filled, or the ship would have plunged into the sea.
Jerry was operating to the limit the motor which whirled the great propellers, and all the force at his command was needed to make headway against the wind. The Comet was shooting almost into the teeth of it, which was to her disadvantage.
Holding with one hand each to the steering wheel, Jerry and Ned ate their sandwiches and drank their coffee. The last was not easy as the motorship plunged and swayed, spilling part of the beverage.
“But it’s fine—what I can get of it,” said Jerry.
“That’s right—and the sandwiches are bully!” exclaimed Ned. “You’re all to the mustard, Bob!”
“Glad you like them,” responded the stout youth, evidently well pleased.
There came a sudden burst of fury in the gale, and the craft seemed to plunge downward.
“Look out!” cried Ned, glancing toward the glass floor in the pilot house, through which he could see the crests of the angry waves. “Look out, Jerry!”
The tall lad gave a twist to the elevating rudder, which overcame the downward tendency, and once more the Comet was moving upward. The rain still fell, the wind howled and roared and the lightning now began to play about the ship, while the thunder rolled almost incessantly. But the gallant craft held on in spite of all.
Suddenly there came a sharp, breaking sound, accompanying a brilliant pinkish flash of light, and then came an awful roar. For a moment the boys were almost paralyzed, and they felt a tingling as of pins and needles all over their bodies. Their ear drums seemed burst.