“Then we can’t depend on that!”
There was a look almost of despair in Jerry’s eyes, but he was not going to give up yet. In a flash he threw over the switch that connected the storage battery with the propeller motor.
But there was not even a spark to show that the electric current was available.
“Not an ampere!” groaned Jerry. “Everything is dead!”
The entire electrical equipment of the Comet had been disabled by the bolt from the sky. She was as helpless as a collapsed balloon. No gas could be generated to fill the lifting-bags, and the small supply that was already in them had leaked out through rents caused by the lightning. It was the worst accident that had ever befallen the boys, and they had been in dire straits often enough.
Down the motorship was plunging toward the sea that seemed eagerly awaiting her.
“It’s all up with us, I guess!” shouted Ned. “Can you do anything, Jerry?”
“Volplane down—that’s about all. But something seems to be wrong. I’m afraid some of our side planes are split. We are falling so fast that it shows they’re not helping to keep us up.”
A glance at the barograph height gage on the wall of the pilot house showed the hand to be moving swiftly around, indicating how fast the Comet was falling.