Tapage then favored him with his company and amused himself at his
expense. “Eh! eh! my boy!” said he. “So you are not crying any more?
Perhaps it hurt you too much? That two hours hanging cured you of it?
At our present rate, what a splendid air-bath you might have for your
rheumatics!”
“It seems to me we shall soon go to pieces!”
“Perhaps so; but we shall go so fast we shan’t have time to fall! That
is some comfort!”
“Do you think so?”
“I do.”
To tell the truth, and not to exaggerate like Tapage, it was only
reasonable that owing to the excessive speed the work of the suspensory
screws should be somewhat lessened. The “Albatross” glided on its bed
of air like a Congreve rocket.
“And shall we last long like that?” asked Frycollin.
“Long? Oh, no, only as long as we live!”
“Oh!” said the Negro, beginning his lamentations.
“Take care, Fry, take care! For, as they say in my country, the master
may send you to the seesaw!” And Frycollin gulped down his sobs as he
gulped down the meat which, in double doses, he was hastily swallowing.
Meanwhile Uncle Prudent and Phil Evans, who were not men to waste time
in wrangling when nothing could come of it, agreed upon doing
something. It was evident that escape was not to be thought of. But if
it was impossible for them to again set foot on the terrestrial globe,
could they not make known to its inhabitants what had become of them
since their disappearance, and tell them by whom they had been carried
off, and provoke—how was not very clear—some audacious attempt on the
part of their friends to rescue them from Robur?
Communicate? But how? Should they follow the example of sailors in
distress and enclose in a bottle a document giving the place of
shipwreck and throw it into the sea? But here the sea was the
atmosphere. The bottle would not swim. And if it did not fall on
somebody and crack his skull it might never be found.
The colleagues were about to sacrifice one of the bottles on board when
an idea occurred to Uncle Prudent. He took snuff, as we know, and we
may pardon this fault in an American, who might do worse. And as a
snuff-taker he possessed a snuff-box, which was now empty. This box was
made of aluminum. If it was thrown overboard any honest citizen that
found it would pick it up, and, being an honest citizen, he would take
it to the police-office, and there they would open it and discover from
the document what had become of the two victims of Robur the Conqueror!
And this is what was done. The note was short, but it told all, and it
gave the address of the Weldon Institute, with a request that it might
be forwarded. Then Uncle Prudent folded up the note, shut it in the
box, bound the box round with a piece of worsted so as to keep it from
opening it as it fell. And then all that had to be done was to wait for
a favorable opportunity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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