Contrary to what had hitherto happened, the savages saw in her a celestial being come to render homage to King Baha-dou. The enthusiasm was indescribable, the shouts were interminable, the prayers were terrific—prayers addressed to this supernatural hippogriff, which “had doubtless come to” take the king’s body to the higher regions of the Dahomian heaven. And now the first head fell under the minghan’s sword, and the prisoners were led up in hundreds before the horrible executioners.
Suddenly a gun was fired from the “Albatross.” The minister of justice fell dead on his face!
“Well aimed, Tom!” said Robur,
His comrades, armed as he was, stood ready to fire when the order was given.
But a change came over the crowd below. They had understood. The winged monster was not a friendly spirit, it was a hostile spirit. And after the fall of the minghan loud shouts for revenge arose on all sides. Almost immediately a fusillade resounded over the plain.
These menaces did not prevent the “Albatross” from descending boldly to within a hundred and fifty feet of the ground. Uncle Prudent and Phil Evans, whatever were their feelings towards Robur, could not help joining him in such a work of humanity.
“Let us free the prisoners!” they shouted.
“That is what I am going to do!” said the engineer.
And the magazine rifles of the “Albatross” in the hands of the colleagues, as in the hands of the crew, began to rain down the bullets, of which not one was lost in the masses below. And the little gun shot forth its shrapnel, which really did marvels.
The prisoners, although they did not understand how the help had come to them, broke their bonds, while the soldiers were firing at the aeronef. The stern screw was shot through by a bullet, and a few holes were made in the hull. Frycollin, crouching in his cabin, received a graze from a bullet that came through the deck-house.