Barney crawled out from under a heap of wreckage, and Pomp relaxed a grip on the skylight frame.
Frank crept out from under the electric keyboard, and Captain Beere appeared from the wine closet with a fragment of the door in his hand.
“Great whales!” he bellowed; “I’ve sailed the high seas in many a hot typhoon, but I never saw the equal of this one.”
“We seem to be afloat,” said Frank, with an attempt to straighten a crick in his neck.
Then he glanced out of the window and saw that the helices were revolving furiously.
The air-ship was speeding upward and frost was forming on the windows. But Frank quickly checked the helices.
The Spectre sank a mile or two very quickly and continued going down until the gauge recorded an altitude of two thousand feet. Then all went to the windows and gazed out.
The scene spread below was a startling one.
Instead of tropical forests or craggy heights there was visible nothing but a mighty expanse of water.
As far as the eye could reach in all directions this was all that could be seen.