udent. "And we must avail ourselves of every
chance that comes, along. Evidently the "Albatross" is going to cross
the Caspian into Europe, either by the north into Russia or by the
west into the southern countries. Well, no matter where we stop,
before we get to the Atlantic, we shall be safe. And we ought to be
ready at any moment."

"But," asked Evans, "how are we to get out?"

"Listen to me," said Uncle Prudent. "It may happen during the night
that the "Albatross" may drop to within a few hundred feet of the
ground. Now there are on board several ropes of that length, and,
with a little pluck we might slip down them--"

"Yes," said Evans. "If the case is desperate I don't mind--"

"Nor I. During the night there's no one about except the man at the
wheel. And if we can drop one of the ropes forward without being seen
or heard--"

"Good! I am glad to see you are so cool; that means business. But
just now we are over the Caspian. There are several ships in sight.
The "Albatross" is going down to fish. Cannot we do something now?"

"Sh! They are watching us much more than you think," said Uncle
Prudent. "You saw that when we tried to jump into the Hydaspes."

"And who knows that they don't watch us at night?" asked Evans.

"Well, we must end this; we must finish with this "Albatross" and her
master."

It will be seen how in the excitement of their anger the colleagues--Uncle
Prudent in particular--were prepared to attempt the most
hazardous things. The sense of their powerlessness, the ironical
disdain with which Robur treated them, the brutal remarks he indulged
in--all contributed towards intensifying the aggravation which daily
grew more manifest.

This very day something occurred which gave rise to another most
regrettable altercation between Robur and his guests. This was
provoked by Frycollin, who, finding himself above the boundless sea,
was seized with another fit of terror. Like a child, like the Negro
he was, he gave himself over to groaning and protesting and crying,
and writhing in a thousand contortions and grimaces.

"I want to get out! I want to get out! I am not a bird! Boohoo! I
don't want to fly, I want to get out!"

Uncle Prudent, as may be imagined, did not attempt to quiet him. In
fact, he encouraged him, and particularly as the incessant howling
seemed to have a strangely irritating effect on Robur.

When Tom Turner and his companions were getting ready for fishing,
the engineer or