They saw the attempted launching of two long lifeboats. Both were swamped almost before they had been lowered into the water. The sea all around the doomed ship became dotted with human heads and floating pieces of wreckage. Then, all at once, a whirlpool seemed to form about the ship and to be dragging it resistlessly down into the icy depths. The water boiled over it and nothing save a few scattered bits of driftwood remained to mark the spot.
Alan shuddered and closed his eyes as he leaned against the Flyer’s taffrail.
“Awful!” he muttered huskily. “All of those poor souls—noncombatants at that—hurled into eternity without warning or provocation. Do you suppose that the vessel struck a submerged mine?”
“Either that or it was torpedoed,” answered Buck. “They say that the whole North Sea and English Channel swarms with German submarines for this sort of thing. But quick now, Alan; to work cutting us free of these dragging planes, or we ourselves will soon feel the water at our necks!”
It was hard work getting through those rivet supports of the huge planes. Bolts had to be cut away, steel cables to be sawed through, and seasoned wood supports hacked away. The boys’ hands became sore and calloused, and their fingers stiffened. Despite the cold air sweeping past, their faces were damp with perspiration.
The airship staggered in bewildering fashion, but the auxiliary engines kept it going at a speed that quickly put England beneath them. The young aeronauts had no leisure to study the effect of their appearance upon spectators below, however, for the airship was sagging more and more surely to one side. Fortunately they passed over no large towns and so were not fired on.
“At last!” gasped Alan, as with a final vicious blow he chopped loose the final attachment of the great lateral planes on his side of the airships and saw them plunge downward into the sea.
“Same here!” shouted Bob from the gangway on the other side. “I’ve just managed to cut us free over here!”
The beneficial effect of this lightening of the drag was at once apparent. The Flyer righted itself and picked up a fair degree of speed. The elevation was increased to 2,000 feet, where propulsion was less modified by earthly wind currents. The little auxiliary propeller was performing its extra duties gallantly. It was now getting well along in the afternoon and daylight was failing rapidly. Far ahead of them showed a thin rim of silver beyond the dark shadow of the land.
“A river?” questioned Alan.