The greatest speed of which she was capable was placed on the Flying Road Racer. The indicator showed in turn fifty, sixty, sixty-five and then seventy miles!
Just as she attained this remarkable speed the wind struck the straining air craft with its full velocity.
“Fo’ de Lawd’s sake!” shrilled out Jupe, “we done bin gone dis time fo’ shoh.”
But he was wrong. The stout fabric of the wonderful craft withstood even the terrific assault now made upon her. But her forward motion suddenly ceased. Caught in the vortex created by the meeting point of the two conflicting storms, she was whirled round and round as if she had been gripped in a maelstrom of the winds.
The boys could do nothing to control this nauseating, dizzying, rotating motion. Upward and forward the Flying Road Racer was forced, climbing at terrifying speed the aerial circular staircase. One by one her occupants succumbed to the effects of the rapid circling. It caused a helpless, miserable feeling similar to seasickness and quite as prostrating.
“Back! back! Go down lower!” shouted Captain Andrews in Tom’s ear.
“We can’t,” yelled the lad; “we’re being dragged to the sky. We’ve lost all control.”
“Oh, but this is fearful!” exclaimed Mr. Jesson. “Nothing made by human hands can stand this much longer.”
Truly it seemed a marvel that the craft had held together as long as it had. So fast were they being swung round and round by this time that the car was suspended at quite a sharp angle, swinging outward from the gas bag by the force of the centrifugal motion.
It was terrifying, awe-inspiring, prostrating. Not one of those clinging for dear life to the dizzy car had ever had such an experience, and one or two among them had faced death not a few times.