Around, an
uncanny silence encompassed us; above, we could hear the hiss of the
serpent; below, the menacing roar of the breakers. Then the old man
said curtly--
"Hurry up, boys. If we can get her up again, we may just strike the
dunes. What wind there is blows from the west."
We threw out the rest of the sacks. The balloon rose and slowly sank
again. The old man took off his coat.
"I can't swim worth a cent," he muttered grimly, "but I'm a-going to
try. If she tumbles quietly into the water, the wind may blow us
ashore."
A few more seconds passed. I heard a queer noise and discovered that
my teeth were chattering. Thorpe was taking off his boots.
The next moment the balloon gave a tremendous bound. I know that I
nearly fell upon my face, and Angela was thrown violently into the
bottom of the car. For an appreciable interval not one of us realised
that Jim had slipped overboard.
"The trade's got us," said the old man. "We shall just make them
dunes."
"Oh, thank God!" exclaimed Angela.
By the tone of her voice, by the smile parting her lips, I could see
that she did not know what had happened.
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