“Tell Ned to shoot her on up into the sky! Full speed! I’ll be up there with you in a minute or two!”
Buck rushed to the engine room, while Alan hurried to tell Ned. The porthole was left open so that Bob could crawl in. Ned was excited; with his right hand he jammed the long starting-lever down as far as it would go; with his left he tugged at the lever of the lateral control rudder. It stuck. With both hands he gave one desperate pull. The sudden give, and the quick swerve upward of the Flyer threw him off his balance. He lunged heavily against the rod. It broke off short in his hands.
The sudden burst of power shot the big airship suddenly skyward on an angle of almost eighty degrees and with a suddenness which nearly threw both Ned and Alan off their feet. The huge propeller began to whirl with dizzying velocity, and the wind screeched and whined through the propellers like an animal in pain.
With blanched cheeks both boys bent low over the broken lever, but though they broke their finger-nails trying to loosen it, they were unable to pry it up even with such tools as they could lay their hands on.
Horror showed in each face. With a ghastly attempt at composure Ned turned to Alan.
“Well, I’ve certainly done it now!” he groaned. “There seems to be no hope of being able to pry that broken lever up. And I don’t dare to shut off the speed; no telling what would happen going at this angle. At present it is driving the Flyer at maximum speed almost straight upwards into the sky!”
Alan was speechless, and could only gulp; his eyes were bulging in mortal terror.
At that moment a frantic call came up through the tube from Buck.
“Great heavens, boys!” he screamed, “look down below! There is Bob clinging sixty feet down the ladder, beaten nearly insensible by the terrible wind, and unable to climb further because the current is sweeping that light rope ladder straight out behind us like a ribbon. If we don’t stop in a minute or so, he is as good as dead!”