The voyagers were all in the cabin at dinner.
The wheel had been lashed and the Dart was traveling at a fair rate of speed.
Suddenly something like an explosion brought every man to his feet.
The next moment they were hurled about the cabin like puppets.
“My God!” cried Professor Gaston, in mortal terror. “The airship is falling!”
“Steady!” shouted Frank. “We must reach the wheel!”
But all was utter darkness. It seemed as if ten thousand fiends had the Dart in hand and was tossing it about like a puppet.
Caught in the arms of the storm, the airship was whirled aloft to dizzy heights, and no doubt would have been torn to pieces had it not been for a favorable accident.
Frank Reade, Jr., had been hurled to the floor of the cabin and was unable for a moment to stand on his feet.
None of the others could reach the pilot-house.