Unfortunately, it turned still more toward
the south, and in a few moments crossed Lake Debo.
Dr. Ferguson, forcing the dilation of his aerial craft
to the utmost, sought for other currents of air at different
heights, but in vain; and he soon gave up the attempt,
which was only augmenting the waste of gas by pressing
it against the well-worn tissue of the balloon.
He made no remark, but he began to feel very anxious.
This persistence of the wind to head him off toward the
southern part of Africa was defeating his calculations, and
he no longer knew upon whom or upon what to depend.
Should he not reach the English or French territories,
what was to become of him in the midst of the barbarous
tribes that infest the coasts of Guinea? How should he
there get to a ship to take him back to England? And
the actual direction of the wind was driving him along to
the kingdom of Dahomey, among the most savage races,
and into the power of a ruler who was in the habit of
sacrificing thousands of human victims at his public orgies.
There he would be lost!
On the other hand, the balloon was visibly wearing out,
and the doctor felt it failing him. However, as the weather
was clearing up a little, he hoped that the cessation of the
rain would bring about a change in the atmospheric currents.
Pages:
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395