“There’s another lively flash,” cried the gamekeeper; “and, my word, how the thunder rolls. It is not improving, and hark at the pattering rain on the top of the balloon! It won’t force open the valve, will it, Mr Goodall?”
“Never fear, Bennet; I always take precautions to prevent that. The only thing I fear is that the iron weights may dash up against the silk and make holes.”
“Steady the weights, my lads,” cried the aeronaut, “as much as possible when she makes those heavy lurches. Hold on all! There, she plunges again, and don’t be alarmed, my men, she is in a sheltered haven—it is the back winds that catch her underneath and cause those ugly flaps on her crown.”
“My dear Goodall!” said the squire, on his arrival, “this frightful wind will soon put an end to your balloon, I fear!”
“Not if we keep on nursing her as we have done, squire.”
“Pick yourselves up, my good fellows!” said the aeronaut to two or three men who were rolled over among the half hundred weights as they swung among their legs and threw them on their faces. “I hope no one is hurt!”
“All right, sir, don’t mind us, we sha’n’t let go!”
“Stick to her, boys! Mind your legs, Bennet, and pray, squire, mind your hands; the cords will cut them if you hold so tight.”
“Never you mind me, Goodall,” cried the squire, “it is all hands to the pumps; I can plainly see that, and every ounce of steadying power is an object.”
The huge silken mass was at this time plunging and swaying like a restive horse, and had lost much of its symmetry; it looked as if it were impossible that it could weather the storm. How it stood such a buffeting amazed Harry Goodall, for the birds at roost were being driven out of some of the trees and sought shelter in distant shrubs, whilst, ever and anon, the topmost branches, in shattered wisps of leafage, came circling down among the men, and lodging for a few seconds on the dome of the balloon, when they would be caught up afresh and whirl about until a heavier gust swept them out of sight.