From that time, whenever possible, I wrote up the account of this voyage, beginning with our landing in London; and the present voluminous paper is the result. At 11 o’clock Torrence insisted on my going below to bed, while he continued the watch above. It was a strange sensation, this crawling into a bunk to sleep on an air ship, but I was exhausted with the excitement of the day, and soon fell into a sound slumber, rocked by the gentle swaying of the car. Nothing could have been more soothing than the situation; though why I should have felt no fear of falling was a mystery, possibly induced by the negation of gravity which pervaded all my surroundings, and perhaps, to a certain extent, even penetrated my own body; though this is only a surmise. If I dreamed, I do not know it, but was awakened while it was still dark by the sound of music. Sitting up, I listened in amazement. Several instruments were distinctly audible, and these were accompanied by half a dozen voices. Probably every one is familiar with the ravishing charm of music while sleeping, and I awoke enraptured with this unearthly fascination, believing at first that the sound had only been in my dreams; but to my amazement it continued. I recalled immediately where I was, and my astonishment was only increased on remembering our singular isolation. There could be no doubt about it—there were musical instruments, and there were human voices—but where out of heaven or earth did they come from. Slowly I crawled down from my bunk and groped my way through the dividing curtains to Torrence’s; but he was not there. I thought it must be nearly morning but evidently he had not come to bed. Had he crossed the North Sea and landed without my knowledge? I could not believe it; nor could I think that we had returned to England. I pinched myself and bit my finger to make sure that I was awake, and then slowly felt the way into the saloon, and having reached the ladder, commenced climbing above, with a horrid dread of some awful catastrophe having befallen us. I stepped out upon the deck and looked around. The dull red glow of Torry’s cigar caught my eye; for there he was in the gloom, still sitting where I had left him, his chair against the rail, and his arm hanging over. Evidently he was looking at something below, and leaning outward, did not see me. Here the music was even clearer than it had been below, and I paused for a moment in dumb amazement to listen. The instruments were well played, and the voices strong and thrilling, with a wild pathos. I glanced out over the taffrail. The misty waters were still spread around us, and the swish of the waves was distinctly heard. Feeling as though suddenly bewitched, I groped my way toward Torrence, who at that moment caught sight of me. He raised his hand, and said softly: "Hush! Do not speak a word!" I moved cautiously along to his elbow. "What is it?" I whispered; "where are we, and what does this music mean?"