Adventure stories; Americans -- Foreign countries -- Fiction; Balloon ascensions -- Fiction; Sawyer, Tom (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
And it got lonesomer and lonesomer. There was the big sky up there,
empty and awful deep; and the ocean down there without a thing on it
but just the waves. All around us was a ring, where the sky and the
water come together; yes, a monstrous big ring it was, and we right in
the dead center of it—plumb in the center. We was racing along like a
prairie fire, but it never made any difference, we couldn’t seem to git
past that center no way. I couldn’t see that we ever gained an inch on
that ring. It made a body feel creepy, it was so curious and
unaccountable.
Well, everything was so awful still that we got to talking in a very
low voice, and kept on getting creepier and lonesomer and less and less
talky, till at last the talk ran dry altogether, and we just set there
and “thunk,” as Jim calls it, and never said a word the longest time.
The professor never stirred till the sun was overhead, then he stood up
and put a kind of triangle to his eye, and Tom said it was a sextant
and he was taking the sun to see whereabouts the balloon was. Then he
ciphered a little and looked in a book, and then he begun to carry on
again. He said lots of wild things, and, among others, he said he would
keep up this hundred-mile gait till the middle of to-morrow afternoon,
and then he’d land in London.
[Illustration: “The professor said he would keep up this hundred-mile
gait till tomorrow”]
We said we would be humbly thankful.
He was turning away, but he whirled around when we said that, and give
us a long look of his blackest kind—one of the maliciousest and
suspiciousest looks I ever see. Then he says:
“You want to leave me. Don’t try to deny it.”
[Illustration: “You want to leave me. Don’t try to deny it.”]
We didn’t know what to say, so we held in and didn’t say nothing at
all.
He went aft and set down, but he couldn’t seem to git that thing out of
his mind. Every now and then he would rip out something about it, and
try to make us answer him, but we dasn’t.
It got lonesomer and lonesomer right along, and it did seem to me I
couldn’t stand it. It was still worse when night begun to come on. By
and by Tom pinched me and whispers:
“Look!”
I took a glance aft, and see the professor taking a whet out of a
bottle. I didn’t like the looks of that. By and by he took another
drink, and pretty soon he begun to sing. It was dark now, and getting
black and stormy. He went on singing, wilder and wilder, and the
thunder begun to mutter, and the wind to wheeze and moan among the
ropes, and altogether it was awful. It got so black we couldn’t see him
any more, and wished we couldn’t hear him, but we could. Then he got
still; but he warn’t still ten minutes till we got suspicious, and
wished he would start up his noise again, so we could tell where he
was. By and by there was a flash of lightning, and we see him start to
get up, but he staggered and fell down. We heard him scream out in the
dark:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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