At a few minutes after two the first part of the work was finished. The fore-screw was in its place, and the power was turned on. The speed was gradually increased, and the “Albatross.” heading to the southwest, returned at moderate speed towards the Chatham Islands.
“Tom.” said Robur, “it is about two hours and a half since we got adrift. The wind has not changed all the time. I think we ought to be over the island in an hour.”
“Yes, sir. We are going about forty feet a second. We ought to be there about half-past three.”
“All the better. It would suit us best to get back while it is dark, and even beach the “Albatross” if we can. Those fellows will fancy we are a long way off to the northward, and never think of keeping a look-out. If we have to stop a day or two on the island—”
“We’ll stop, and if we have to fight an army of natives?”
“We’ll fight.” said Robur. “We’ll fight then for our “Albatross.””
The engineer went forward to the men, who were waiting for orders. “My lads.” he said to them, “we cannot knock off yet. We must work till day comes.”
They were all ready to do so. The stern-screw had now to be treated as the other had been. The damage was the same, a twisting from the violence of the hurricane during the passage across the southern pole.
But to get the screw on board it seemed best to stop the progress of the aeronef for a few minutes, and even to drive her backwards. The engines were reversed. The aeronef began to fall astern, when Tom Turner was surprised by a peculiar odor.
This was from the gas given off by the match, which had accumulated in the box, and was now escaping from the cabin. “Hallo!” said the mate, with a sniff.