Detective and mystery stories, English; Horror tales, English
"These were the thoughts in my head as I climbed that monstrous,
inclined plane with the wind sometimes beating in my face and sometimes
whistling behind my ears, while the cloud-land beneath me fell away to
such a distance that the folds and hummocks of silver had all smoothed
out into one flat, shining plain. But suddenly I had a horrible and
unprecedented experience. I have known before what it is to be in what
our neighbours have called a tourbillon, but never on such a scale as
this. That huge, sweeping river of wind of which I have spoken had, as
it appears, whirlpools within it which were as monstrous as itself.
Without a moment's warning I was dragged suddenly into the heart of
one. I spun round for a minute or two with such velocity that I almost
lost my senses, and then fell suddenly, left wing foremost, down the
vacuum funnel in the centre. I dropped like a stone, and lost nearly a
thousand feet. It was only my belt that kept me in my seat, and the
shock and breathlessness left me hanging half-insensible over the side
of the fuselage. But I am always capable of a supreme effort--it is my
one great merit as an aviator. I was conscious that the descent was
slower. The whirlpool was a cone rather than a funnel, and I had come
to the apex. With a terrific wrench, throwing my weight all to one
side, I levelled my planes and brought her head away from the wind. In
an instant I had shot out of the eddies and was skimming down the sky.
Then, shaken but victorious, I turned her nose up and began once more
my steady grind on the upward spiral. I took a large sweep to avoid
the danger-spot of the whirlpool, and soon I was safely above it. Just
after one o'clock I was twenty-one thousand feet above the sea-level.
To my great joy I had topped the gale, and with every hundred feet of
ascent the air grew stiller. On the other hand, it was very cold, and
I was conscious of that peculiar nausea which goes with rarefaction of
the air. For the first time I unscrewed the mouth of my oxygen bag and
took an occasional whiff of the glorious gas. I could feel it running
like a cordial through my veins, and I was exhilarated almost to the
point of drunkenness. I shouted and sang as I soared upwards into the
cold, still outer world.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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