"Come on, Ned!" cried Tom, as he pressed the electric alarm bell connected with his chum's berth. "I need you, and Mr. Damon, too."
"What's the matter?" cried Ned, awakened suddenly from a sound sleep.
"We're in a bad storm," answered Tom, "and I'll have to have help. We need more gas, to try and rise above it."
"Bless my hanging lamp!" cried Mr. Damon, "I hope nothing happens!"
And he jumped from his berth as the Falcon plunged and staggered through the storm that was lashing the ocean below her into white billow of foam.
CHAPTER XII
AN ACCIDENT
For a few moments it seemed as if the Falcon would surely turn turtle and plunge into the seething ocean. The storm had burst with such suddenness that Tom, who was piloting his air craft, was taken unawares. He had not been using much power or the airship would have been better able to weather the blast that burst with such fury over her. But as it was, merely drifting along, she was almost like a great sheet of paper. Down she was forced, until the high-flying spray from the waves actually wet the lower part of the car, and Ned, looking through one of the glass windows, saw, in the darkness, the phosphorescent gleam of the water so near to them.
"Tom!" he cried in alarm. "We're sinking!"