Assuredly if the men of the aeronef had not been so busy one of them would have heard the feeble sputtering that was going on in the deck-house. Perhaps he would have smelt the burning powder! He would doubtless have become uneasy! And told Tom Turner! And then they would have looked about, and found the box and the infernal machine; and then there would have been time to save this wonderful “Albatross” and all she bore! But the men were at work in the bow, twenty yards away from the cabin. Nothing brought them to that part of the deck; nothing called off their attention from their work. Robur was there working with his hands, excellent mechanic as he was. He hurried on the work, but nothing was neglected, everything was carefully done. Was it not necessary that he should again become absolute master of his invention? If he did not recapture the fugitives they would get away home. They would begin inquiring into matters. They might even discover X Island, and there would be an end to this life, which the men of the “Albatross” had created for themselves, a life that seemed superhuman and sublime. Tom Turner came up to the engineer. It was a quarter past one. “It seems to me, sir, that the breeze is falling, and going round to the west.” “What does the barometer say?” asked Robur, after looking up at the sky. “It is almost stationary, and the clouds seem gathering below us.” “So they are, and it may be raining down at the sea; but if we keep above the rain it makes no difference to us. It will not interfere with the work.” “If it is raining it is not a heavy rain.” said Tom. “The clouds do not look like it, and probably the wind has dropped altogether.” “Perhaps so, but I think we had better not go down yet. Let us get into going order as soon as we can, and then we can do as we like.” At a few minutes after two the first part of the work was finished. The fore-screw was in its place, and the power was turned on. The speed was gradually increased, and the “Albatross.” heading to the southwest, returned at moderate speed towards the Chatham Islands. “Tom.” said Robur, “it is about two hours and a half since we got adrift. The wind has not changed all the time. I think we ought to be over the island in an hour.” “Yes, sir. We are going about forty feet a second. We ought to be there about half-past three.” “All the better. It would suit us best to get back while it is dark, and even beach the “Albatross” if we can. Those fellows will fancy we are a long way off to the northward, and never think of keeping a look-out. If we have to stop a day or two on the island—” “We’ll stop, and if we have to fight an army of natives?” “We’ll fight.” said Robur. “We’ll fight then for our “Albatross.”” The engineer went forward to the men, who were waiting for orders. “My lads.” he said to them, “we cannot knock off yet. We must work till day comes.”