When night fell Robur and his men knocked off work. The fore propeller not been got into place, and to finish it would take another three hours. After some conversation with Tom Turner it was decided to give the crew a rest, and postpone what required to be done to the next morning.
The final adjustment was a matter of extreme nicety, and the electric lamps did not give so suitable a light for such work as the daylight.
Uncle Prudent and Phil Evans were not aware of this. They had understood that the screw would be in place during the night, and that the “Albatross” would be on her way to the north.
The night was dark and moonless. Heavy clouds made the darkness deeper. A light breeze began to rise. A few puffs came from the southwest, but they had no effect on the “Albatross.” She remained motionless at her anchor, and the cable stretched vertically downward to the ground.
Uncle Prudent and his colleague, imagining they were under way again, sat shut up in their cabin, exchanging but a few words, and listening to the f-r-r-r-r of the suspensory screws, which drowned every other sound on board. They were waiting till the time of action arrived.
A little before midnight Uncle Prudent said, “It is time!” Under the berths in the cabin was a sliding box, forming a small locker, and in this locker Uncle Prudent put the dynamite and the slow-match. In this way the match would burn without betraying itself by its smoke or spluttering. Uncle Prudent lighted the end and pushed back the box under the berth with “Now let us go aft, and wait.”
They then went out, and were astonished not to find the steersman at his post.
Phil Evans leant out over the rail.
“The “Albatross” is where she was.” said he in a low voice. “The work is not finished. They have not started!”
Uncle Prudent made a gesture of disappointment. “We shall have to put out the match.” said he.