“Yes, upwards,” said Grimshaw.
“Trying to strike a calmer upper current, I fancy,” suggested Mr. Dale.
Hiram made his way to a window and tried to peer out. The rain was beating in rattling dashes against the thick panes.
“Say,” he reported, “if you want to see a sea of black ink, come here.”
“I call it a blaze of dazzling light,” submitted Grimshaw, as there was a vivid flash of lightning, followed by a tremendous crack of thunder.
“It’s all below us now,” reported Hiram, a few minutes later.
“We must be above the storm cloud, then,” said Grimshaw.
“There’s some wind yet, I’m thinking,” observed Mr. Dale.
There came a signal from the tube bell just then. Grimshaw being nearest, took up the tube and received the message.
“You, Dashaway,” he spoke in his quick, laconic way.