On a second attempt he rose in good style, loudly cheered by the
spectators within the Amphitheatre; but no sooner had he cleared its
wall than the shout of the people arose. Making a stoop almost to their
heads, he discharged the greater part of the remaining ballast, and
mounting again, was borne away to the eastward with great rapidity. The
crowd dispersed immediately, but the whole afternoon was filled by the
accounts constantly arriving of his route, and the probable result.
Report was at an early hour brought that the machine had been seen to
alight in the ocean, about sixteen miles north-east of Nahant, where it
sank in sight of several schooners, taking its pilot down with it. Soon
after it was affirmed that a Portland steamer had rescued the man, and
that the balloon alone was drowned.

In this state of uncertainty the public continued until about nine
o'clock next morning, at which hour Mr. Durant walked into the hall of
the Tremont, where numbers of persons were arguing his probable fate.
After the greeting of his friends was over, he gave a very particular
and interesting account of the peril he had been rescued from. It
appeared that the aerial part of his voyage had terminated, as was
reported, in the Atlantic, some miles off Nahant. Sustained by an
inflated girdle, he hung on to the balloon, and was dragged after it at
no small rate for some time, until a schooner falling in with this
strange sail, gave chase, and overhauled the queer craft.

As soon as the schooner got alongside, a line was flung to the aeronaut,
which he, solicitous to save his machine as well as himself, made fast
to the car, and bade them hoist away: the first hearty pull lifted the
balloon from the waves, when, the wind catching it, up it mounted. The
line to which it was fastened chanced to be the topsail halliards; and
whisk! before a belay could be passed, up flew poor Mr. Durant high over
the vessel's mast; after hanging on for a moment, his strength failed,
and down he plumped from an elevation of some hundred and fifty feet
back into the sea. How deep he dived, or for what length of time he
remained below amongst the codling, he did not say, not having
calculated "the sum of his sensation to a second:" but he readily
"guessed" he would no-how admire such another tumble. His resolution,
however, was nothing abated; for he immediately began to repair his
balloon, and make ready for a new "sail i' the air."

The day following