This much Captain Prout saw, noted, and understood, but what puzzled him was a telescoped object, looking very much like an exaggerated top-hat, that lay upon the deck between the mainmast fife-rail and the coaming of the main hatch.
"Guess it's a meteorite," hazarded the mate.
"Meteorite, my foot!" ejaculated Captain Prout, scornfully. "If't had been, 'twould ha' gone slap bang through the old hooker, an' we'd have been in the ditch."
"It's had a good try, anyway," rejoined the mate. "Half a dozen deck planks stove in."
He held the lantern close to the mysterious object.
"Looks like a bloomin' bath," he continued, "and I'm hanged if there isn't a whopping big bird in it. Rummiest birdcage I've ever set eyes on."
The cause of the damage to the Myrtle's top-hamper and deck planks was Z64's observation basket. Instead of falling into the sea and decorously sinking to the bottom, as von Sinzig had hoped, the contrivance had struck the only vessel within a radius of a hundred miles. With its head and neck driven completely through the aluminium side of the basket was a large eagle. The huge bird had struck the suspended basket such a tremendous blow that the impact had wrenched away the metal clips securing it to the bottle-screws.
"Standin' an' looking at the blessed thing won't clear away this raffle," said the Old Man with asperity. "Set to, all hands. Secure and belay all you can and cut the rest adrift."
"Heave this lot overboard, Abe?" questioned the mate, kicking the basket with his sea-boot.
"Best let 'un stop awhile," decided the skipper. "Pass a lashing round it. Be sharp with that topmast, or it'll stove us in."