[CHAPTER XVIII.]
NED’S TERRIBLE PERIL.
Beneath the Electric Monarch, soaring eagle-like far above it, a glimmering speck against the blue, lay the Atlantic. The ocean was in a calm mood. Viewed from above, its surface appeared to be as smooth as a mirror.
But Jack knew that appearances were deceptive. The Atlantic is never absolutely at rest. Even on the calmest days its bosom heaves with long, swinging swells, running shoreward to break in heavy, thunderous surf on the beach. He drew from a pocket beside the wheel the glasses with which the receptacle was equipped.
Controlling the wheel with one hand, he raised the glasses to his eyes with the other. He gazed downward through them and saw that the sea was lazily swelling in long, oily combers, which could be ridden with ease even by a cockleshell of a boat, whereas the Electric Monarch was actually two capable cabin cruisers fastened together Siamese-twin-like by ligaments of vanadium and steel and aluminum alloy.
“It’s safe enough to go down,” said Jack to himself and sounded two blasts on the electric whistle.
This was the signal to the engineer to come into the pilot house for a consultation. Ned soon presented himself. He was grimy but happy.
“How’s everything running?” asked Jack.
“Smooth as oil. You’d think the motors had been in commission for a long time instead of being on their initial trip.”
“That’s good. I didn’t have much fear but they would work all right. I’m going to try a drop, Ned.”