There had been a brief moment in which the air around the wrecked auto had seemed full of flying human beings.
Now, they lay by the road side in varying degrees of disaster.
The left front axle had broken, the wheel rolling some yards ere it stopped.
Jacob Farnum, seated right over the axle, was hurled out, head first as nearly as he could afterwards guess. How he avoided landing on his head and sustaining a broken neck or shattered skull was one of those miraculous things that no one can explain.
The chauffeur had plunged out over Farnum's head, alighting beyond the shipbuilder. The chauffeur now lay writhing and groaning.
David Pollard landed first, on one wrist and his chest, a cry of anguish escaping him.
Eph Somers lay in the road motionless. Jack and Hal fell against the padded side of the car. Hal remained there during the next second, but young Benson turned a half-somersault, lightly, landing in the road just outside.
It was young Captain Jack who first got to his feet. Dazed for a few moments, he rose slowly seeking for signs of injury.
"I—I believe I'm not hurt," he congratulated himself. "Thank heaven for that, for there are others here who seem in need of the promptest help."
First of all Jack turned to his chum, young Hastings. But Hal, though his face was white from the shock of it all, smiled back, then helped himself out of the wrecked car.