"I don't think that's necessary, Matt," answered Townsend. "Get under way again. We've lost half an hour already."
The accident, although it had resulted in an injury which might have been infinitely more serious, dropped a pall over the spirits of the three boys. If omens counted for anything, the cruise was to end in disaster.
Matt started the machinery and got the air ship aloft and once more headed on her course. How he and his chums were ever going to reach Turtle Key, hampered by an injured passenger, was more than he knew. The outlook was dubious, to say the least.
Noon found them over the State of Delaware and reaching along toward Chesapeake Bay. The wind grew steady and shifted until it was almost directly behind them, and the Hawk went spinning through the air at the rate of forty miles an hour.
As if to offset this favorable trend of wind and weather, Townsend's injury appeared to be growing steadily worse. His ankle was swollen and there was a dark, angry look to the skin. The pain was intense, but Townsend insisted that the Hawk should keep steadily on her way. At all costs, he declared, they must make the most of the favoring breeze.
The rations were drawn upon for dinner, Dick eating first and then taking Matt's place among the levers while he bolted his food.
Early in the afternoon the Hawk sailed over the broad mouth of Chesapeake Bay and was saluted by an American man-of-war that was passing below them.
Carl busied himself taking care of Townsend, and Matt and Dick gave their attention to the maps. Townsend had eaten a good dinner and was feeling somewhat better.
"What was that?" he asked, rousing up as the sound of the saluting cannon rattled on his ears.