Another useful plan was adopted by the amateur aeronaut as he left the palace grounds. Upon being asked by a director present, if he would give the word to “let go,” so that all the men might do so at the same moment, he replied,—
“Certainly not. My plan is to detach the balloon at a favourable moment by this instrument which acts instantaneously as a liberator. It is the system adopted by the colleague of Mr James Glaisher, F.R.S., in the scientific ascents made over thirty years ago, and which the famous meteorologist so much approved of.”
Whilst Harry Goodall and his assistant were actively engaged up aloft, they had not much time to survey the surrounding country, although the counties of Surrey, Kent, Essex and Middlesex were very beautifully stretched out in a map-like form beneath them, for their course had to be narrowly watched owing to their proximity to Gravesend Long Reach and towards the Nore Lightship. Besides, it was not the aeronaut’s desire to make a prolonged trip, as, for one reason, he felt anxious about his property in the workroom, and for another he wanted to ascertain more as to what the man Eben had stolen, and whether he had been set free after Tom Trigger left the palace, or whether he was locked up for the night, for it was quite evident that his assistant had formed a very unfavourable opinion of him.
When the aeronaut found that, by a somewhat different undercurrent, his balloon was getting near to Northfleet Marsh, and that they were sinking fast, it became necessary to watch the course of a large, full-rigged vessel which was being towed up to one of the docks, and just as they were skimming over the ship, and Harry Goodall was wondering why the crew did not cheer, he suddenly drew in his head from looking over the car as if he had been shot, and said,—
“I have made a discovery, Trigger; we are right over the Neptune, my father’s ship from Sydney. See, there stands Captain Link with his cap in his hand, and there, too, on the poop, is my Uncle Goodall with his head down, apparently reading a letter.”
“Perhaps someone is dead on board, sir,” observed Trigger, with a serious look, just as they became enveloped in the black smoke of the tug, so that they saw no more of the vessel until they were over the sea-wall on the Essex banks of the river.
“My uncle told me,” said Harry Goodall, “that he was expecting the arrival of Captain Link, but I am awfully sorry to have passed right over the Neptune, as it looks like sheer defiance, knowing his dislike to ballooning. No wonder that my uncle held down his head, and that the crew were as silent as the grave.”
“I didn’t notice the flag, sir, if it was at half-mast; but I sha’n’t look back, as they say it is unlucky.”
“Then don’t do it, Tom; besides, can’t you see that the grapnel is near the ground. We may as well pull up on this Essex marsh so as to get close to the railway station over there, for I feel as if some disaster has taken place, or as if something were going to happen somehow. But tell me, Trigger, what is that glittering in your side pocket?”
“Only my revolver, sir. Things looked so queer this morning that I thought we ought to be prepared for squalls, and if you don’t mind, sir, I’ll pop some cartridges in the chambers, as there is no fear now of any bumping. Your presentiment just reminded me of it; anyhow there is no harm in being ready for any rough customers.”