“I think so,” said Jack, in what sounded like a whisper, but which was loud, only the noise of the water muffled it.
“Then we had better enter the cylinder,” spoke the inventor. “Take a last look at the Flying Mermaid, boys, for you will never see again the ship that has borne us many thousand miles. She served us well, and might again, but for the freak of nature that has placed us in this position.”
For the first time the adventurers realized that they must abandon the craft in which they had reached the new world. So it was with no little feeling of sadness that they climbed up the ladder that had been arranged and slid down into the cylinder. One by one they took their places in the padded berths arranged for them. It was a snug fit, for the professor knew if there was too much room he and the others might be so tossed about as to be killed.
Mr. Henderson was the last to enter. Standing at the manhole he took a final look at his pet creation, the Mermaid. Through the opened windows the colored lights came, shifting here and there. Outside the terrible column of water was roaring as if anxious to devour them.
“Good-bye, Mermaid!” said the professor softly.
Then he closed down the manhole cover and tightened the screws that held it in place. He touched a button that turned on the electric lights and the interior of the cylinder was illuminated with a soft glow.
“Are you all ready?” he asked.
“Jest as much as I ever will be,” replied Washington, who, as the crisis approached, seemed more light-hearted than any of the others.
“Then here we go!” exclaimed Mr. Henderson.
His fingers touched the button that connected with the electric machine, which operated the compressed air.