Hiram nodded intelligently at this technical explanation. Elmer, too, understood what their pilot wished to convey to them.
“Some of the tubing is loose,” continued the young airman. “I have felt it vibrate for the past hour. If any part gives way, and a puff of wind should come up, we will lose all control of the steering gear.”
“The mischief!” ejaculated Hiram, who always got excited readily. “We’re in a bad fix; aren’t we?”
“Bad enough to keep on a low level, for fear we may turn turtle at any moment,” declared Dave.
The young aviator had not misstated conditions. The situation was a critical one, and he had known it for some time. Even now, as they made a straight volplane, there was an ominous creak in the tubing joints, and the machine wabbled.
“Fellows, she’s going!” declared our hero. “We’ve got to drop or take a risk of a sudden plunge that may end everything.”
The Comet had no float attachment. Hiram got the breeches buoys and the life preservers ready. The fog was so heavy they could not see the sky above nor the sea beneath them. Dave allowed the machine to drift on a long, inclined dip. Something snapped. The Comet wavered from side to side but did not upset. There was a second sudden jar.
“Get ready. It’s a sure drop, any way we manage it,” shouted Dave.
All hands were ready to leap from the machine when it struck. Suddenly Dave shut off the power at a contact. The machine grated, ran on its wheels, and came to an astonishing but substantial standstill.
“Dave, Dave,” cried the delighted Hiram, springing out. “Land, solid land!”