And during this extraordinary flight what was Frycollin doing? He remained silent in a corner of his cabin, sleeping as well as he could, except at meal times.
Tapage then favored him with his company and amused himself at his expense. “Eh! eh! my boy!” said he. “So you are not crying any more? Perhaps it hurt you too much? That two hours hanging cured you of it? At our present rate, what a splendid air-bath you might have for your rheumatics!”
“It seems to me we shall soon go to pieces!”
“Perhaps so; but we shall go so fast we shan’t have time to fall! That is some comfort!”
“Do you think so?”
“I do.”
To tell the truth, and not to exaggerate like Tapage, it was only reasonable that owing to the excessive speed the work of the suspensory screws should be somewhat lessened. The “Albatross” glided on its bed of air like a Congreve rocket.
“And shall we last long like that?” asked Frycollin.
“Long? Oh, no, only as long as we live!”
“Oh!” said the Negro, beginning his lamentations.