There is one thing about typhoons that is in their favor, if such a thing can be said. This is that they do not last long. From the very nature of these storms, they cannot last long.
So, after about half an hour, there was a diminishing of the force of the hurricane, as Tom could note on the gage, and he was able to send his craft up higher, soon being in a region of comparative calm.
“Oh, boy! That was some blow!” Tom confided to Ned, when he could let Peltok manage the wheel alone and the young inventor went to get some rest in the main cabin with his chum.
“I’ll say it was!” Ned echoed. “Do they have many of these out here?”
“More or less. We’re well out of that one.”
The typhoon was passing almost as quickly as it had arisen, and when it was possible to slow down the motors, to save as much as possible of the now precious super-gas, Tom gave orders to that effect.
They were now over a portion of the ocean that had not, as yet, responded to the whipping and lashing of the terrific wind, and Peltok, who had given Hartman charge of the wheel, came in to say:
“I think we had better drop down to the water and give the airship an overhauling. No telling what might have been strained by that gale.”
“I agree with you,” Tom said. “We’ll make a landing, or rather,” he added, with a smile, “a watering. There is a large island near here, I think,” he went on, consulting the map, “and we can be sheltered in the harbor if we have to make any repairs.”
The typhoon had passed. The rain was over. The setting sun came out clear and bright from behind the black clouds as the Air Monarch gently settled down in the sea near a large island, with smaller islands clustered about it.