Suddenly Captain Sproul burst into the chart-room and gasped:
"Can you tell me the meaning of this, Mr. Henderson? You're a scientific sharp and know a whole lot of things. My cook just went to the galley door to throw out a pot of slops and something—some mysterious force—snatched the heavy iron pot out of his hand and it went sailing off over the ship's rail. Can you explain that?"
"Wasn't it the wind snatched it away?" asked Jack Darrow, before the professor was ready to answer.
"Don't seem to be no wind blowing just at present," said Captain Sproul.
"Wait!" commanded the professor. "Order every companionway and hatch closed. Do not allow a man to go on deck, nor to open a deadlight. We must exist upon the air that remains in the vessel for the present."
"What do you mean?" gasped the skipper.
"There is no air outside!" declared Professor Henderson, solemnly. "We are flying through space where no atmosphere exists. The iron pot merely remained poised in space—our planet, far, far, heavier, is falling through this awful void."
"What sort o' stuff are you talkin'?" demanded Captain Sproul, growing positively white beneath his tan.
"We began to fall several minutes ago," said the professor, pointing to the indicator of one of the delicate instruments before him on the chart table. "The balance of attraction between the earth and the sun has become disturbed and we are plunging—"
"Into the sun?" shrieked Mark Sampson, springing to his feet.