But how much had transpired in those few hours! If time might be reckoned by events the boys could record that they had passed through years of experience since Jack and Captain Andrews struck out on the forest path leading to the plantation houses.
“What a mess!” breathed Abner Jennings, echoing in part Mr. Jesson’s remark.
“It’s my opinion that we ought to thank Providence for getting off with our lives,” said Captain Andrews stoutly. And to this sentiment they all heartily agreed.
“Can you ever repair her. Jack, do you think?” asked his father anxiously.
Jack, who had been surveying the wreck carefully, was not yet ready to give an opinion, however.
“If we could fix that rip in the gas bag it might be possible to patch her up,” he said dubiously. “There is,—or ought to be,—a spare propeller on board, and if the engine is working, it might be feasible to put the craft in order once more.”
“Well, we’d better run her up out of the reach of the waves anyhow,” said Tom.
The air craft had grounded at the margin of the beach, and the spray of the thunderous waves showered her as each broke.
The two sailors and the others came forward to lay hands on the Flying Road Racer, and shove her up the beach. But Jack had a better plan in mind.
“If the motor is working. I’ll run her up under her own power,” he said.