"So did I. Shall I keep on with the gas?"
"Yes, until the indicator shows that the bag is full. I'm going to the pilot house."
Running there, Tom found that Mr. Damon and the Russian had about all they could manage. The young inventor helped them and then, when the Falcon was well started on her upward course, Tom set the automatic steering machine, and they had a breathing spell.
To get above the sweep of the blast was no easy task, for the wind strata seemed to be several miles high, and Tom did not want to risk an accident by going to such an elevation. So, when having gone up about a mile, he found a comparatively calm area he held to that, and the Falcon sped along with the occupants feeling fairly comfortable, for there was no longer that rolling and tumbling motion.
The storm kept up all night, but the danger was practically over, unless something should happen to the machinery, and Tom and Ned kept careful watch to prevent this. In the morning they could look down on the storm-swept ocean below them, and there was a feeling of thankfulness in their hearts that they were not engulfed in it.
"This is a pretty hard initiation for an amateur," remarked Mr. Petrofsky. "I never imagined I should be as brave as this in an airship in a storm."
"Oh, you can get used to almost anything," commented Mr. Damon.
It was three days before the storm blew itself out and then came pleasant weather, during which the Falcon flew rapidly along. Our friends busied themselves about many things, talked of what lay before them, and made such plans as they could.
It was the evening of the fifth day, and they expected to sight the coast of France in the morning. Tom was in the pilot house, setting the course for the night run, and Ned had gone to the engine room to look after the oiling of the motor.
Hardly had he reached the compartment than there was a loud report, a brilliant flash of fire, and the machinery stopped dead.