“Heavens!” cried Harding; “this will never do. Lower the ship, Barney.”
The Celt saw that this was likely their only salvation.
He sprang to the pilot-house.
Pomp and Harding followed.
But they had barely time to shut the door when the storm burst. What followed was ever after to them like chaos.
The Kite seemed to be whirling and tumbling over and over in space.
Every movable article aboard was tossed hither and thither.
As for the occupants, one moment they were upon their heads, and the next moment upon their feet, or rolling about like a football.
It was evident that the Kite was speeding through space with awful velocity.
Where this sort of thing would end up the voyagers did not know.