Although the gauge showed that they had plenty of gasoline, the
supply--even with the use of the auxiliary tanks--would not hold out
indefinitely. If the fog did not lift, or they did not land, sooner or
later they must face disaster. Worse still, they were--or believed they
were, navigating above the sea.
Had the _Golden Butterfly_ been fitted with pontoons like some of the Glen
Curtiss machines, this would not have been so alarming. But a descent into
the ocean would inevitably mean a speedy death by drowning.
Suddenly voices struck through the smother all about them. They seemed to
come from below.
"It's thick as pea soup, captain!"
"Aye, aye; I'll be glad when we're out of it I kin tell yer. This bay's a
bad place ter be in er fog."
"A ship," cried Jimsy. "Quick, Peggy," he almost yelled the next instant.
"Set your rising levers."
The girl swiftly manipulated the machinery that sent the _Golden
Butterfly_ on an upward course.
But it was only just in time that this maneuver was carried out. All of
them had a glimpse for an instant of the gilded ball on the main-mast
head of the vessel beneath them. For an instant Peggy's watchful eye had
been deflected from the height gauge, and she had allowed the _Golden
Butterfly_ to drop almost on the top of some coasting vessel's mast.
The danger over, they could not help laughing at the whimsical adventure.
Pages:
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168