Dave caught at the ladder just as the propeller began to whir. By the time he was in the cabin the earth was fading away. He threaded the corridors in the direction of the engine room.
“Dashaway!” shouted the professor in amazement, as the young airman burst in upon him.
“Yes, Professor, I am here,” said Dave. “You are going to make a try to reach the mainland? I am with you.”
There was no time for compliments, explanations or delay. In two minutes’ time the professor had made his assistant aware of what was required of him. Practically only as a balloon could the Albatross now act, and only provided the strong wind maintained in precisely the direction it was now set.
“See, my friend,” spoke Leblance, eagerly, “we have no control whatever over the planes. The steering apparatus, too, is useless. The engine will barely take care of the propellers. If you know how to operate them, take my seat here. Keep the rudder locked firm. That is all we can do. For the rest—it is a risk, a perilous risk.”
“Anything to get there!” cried Dave; and then the professor left him alone.
The Albatross had risen to a good altitude at her first spurt. She drove with the wind at a wonderful rate of speed. At the end of an hour, however, the young aviator noticed a gradual drop. The buoyancy of the gas bag was lessening.
After that Dave heard the professor working with tools below the cabin. He was quite startled as there was a jerk. Then he saw first one and then the other of the aeroplane attachments go hurtling down to the water, engulfed by the ocean.
Relieved of such an incubus the airship regained a higher level. Two hours went by, then three. The professor appeared in a great state of excitement and hopefulness.
“She’s dropping again, but don’t let up for an instant,” he ordered. “I see the land ahead—two hours more, and we’ve made it.”