Adventure stories; Detective and mystery stories; London (England) -- Fiction
At first the sensation was delightful. The earth and its people and
features dropped away from us, until we seemed to have risen out of the
hollow of a basin. There was no sense of ascent at all. The world
slipped away from us, and not we away from the world. One by one the
sounds died out, until at last we could only catch the hoarse barking of
some sheep-dogs which must have seen us with those keen eyes of theirs
and thought mischief was astir. Clouds, too, began to rush swiftly
towards us, and soon we found ourselves enveloped in a soft, clinging,
whitish mist, which blotted out all sight of the earth we had left
behind us.
We were now being carried upward with a terrific force, and insensibly
all of us turned our eyes towards Captain Sparhawk to see how he was
going to acquit himself and his machine now the time of real trial had
come. After all, any balloon could rise like this had done. Indeed,
all balloons had been able to accomplish as much since the days of the
Brothers Montgolfier. It was on the steering--directing--descent that
the fame of the "Doris" and all modern flying machines had to rest. How
would the vessel behave in a wild upward dash like ours?
Alas! we had not long to wait for an answer.
All at once we saw Captain Sparhawk stagger and throw up his arms. The
wind had blown his coat, which he had carelessly left unfastened,
against the motor, and the petroleum ignition had set the dry woollen
material on fire. In vain he tried to extinguish the flames. They
spread with hideous rapidity, and at last, frantic with pain, he
scrambled on to the framework, and dashed headlong to the earth, a
seething mass of fire.
For a moment, I believe, all our hearts stood still with terror.
Freed, too, from the burden of Captain Sparhawk's weight, the air-ship
shot upward at a most amazing rate of speed. At first it gave two great
violent lurches, as though the loss of that twelve or fourteen stone of
ballast would send it heeling over, with its cars at a crazy angle
'twixt earth and heaven, but, luckily, in our consternation we all made
various movements that served to right the vessel, and later we found
ourselves safe, at all events for the moment, but perfectly helpless.
By this time, too, there was not a trace of the world to be seen. We
were simply surrounded with clouds, which seethed about us in white,
clinging vapour and wrapped themselves about our clothes and faces as
though we had been overtaken in a mist on some Scottish moor.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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