"We're sailin' plumb into the fog."

In late October the sea fog generally begins to roll up about four o'clock. If the breeze is from the land, the fog is kept at bay for an hour or two. As a rule, the breeze fails, and then the fog a.s.serts its dominion over all things on land and sea. Without knowing much of aerial navigation, I grasped the fact that we were being swept into the fog, and that if we intended to descend on land there was not a minute to be lost. Thorpe, I fancy, had arrived at the same conclusion. He said in a queer, high-pitched tone--

"Can't you stick a knife into the balloon?"

"It ain't easy, and it's mighty risky."

Jerking at the two ropes in his hands, he spoke collectedly, in an indifferent tone--the tone of a man who has confronted death often, who realises his impotence, who submits apathetically to impending fate, whether good or ill.

"It's very cold," said Angela. Jim began to unb.u.t.ton his jacket.

"Don't," she said sharply; "all the coats in the world wouldn't warm me."

"Stick a knife into the confounded thing," repeated Thorpe.

"S'pose you do it," said the veteran snappishly.

Thorpe stood up at once, staggered, and fell upon the floor of the car. He could master a broncho, but he had never attempted to boss a balloon. The old man smiled.

"A man," said he, "may be mighty smart on land and behave like a baby in a balloon. You sit tight, mister."

The balloon was now careening like a racing-yacht in a squall. We had met opposing currents of air in the debatable area where wind and fog struggled for the mastery. The fog had the mighty trade wind behind it, forcing it landward. Already we were approaching the sand-dunes, the very spot for an easy descent if we could descend.

"Gosh, I've done it!"

Above I could hear the soft, sibilant sound of the escaping gas, not unlike the hiss of a snake. I was also sensible that my heart, not to mention other important organs, was trying to get into my throat.

"Valve must ha' bust," said the old man. "Stand by to throw out ballast."

The bottom of the car was covered with sacks of sand. Ordinarily one unties the sacks and the sand is allowed to trickle out in a harmless stream. I peered over the side. The balloon was now, so to speak, on an even keel, falling almost perpendicularly. I saw, far down, a flash of blue.

"Chuck 'em out, boys!"

Several sacks went overboard, and at once my solar plexus felt easier.

Again I peered down and saw nothing. The fog had engulfed us, but I could hear the crash of the big combers as they broke upon the rocks to the north of Avila.

What followed took place within a few seconds. We were encompa.s.sed by thick dank fog. The balloon was perfectly steady, descending less quickly, but with inexorable certainty, into the ocean. Around, an uncanny silence encompa.s.sed 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 ash.o.r.e."

A few more seconds pa.s.sed. 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 G.o.d!" 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. Terror had dulled all faculties save the one overmastering instinct of self-preservation.

Thorpe was about to speak, but Ajax caught his eye and with a gesture silenced him. Once more the balloon began to fall----

We were thrown out upon the dunes. Some of us were badly bruised. When we staggered to our feet, Angela said quickly--

"Why, where's Jim?"

Thorpe told her; let us give him credit for that. When he had finished, he put out his hand, but she turned from him to Ajax.

"Come," she said.

She ran past us towards the beach, instinctively taking the right direction. As she ran she called shrilly: "Jim--Jim!"

Ajax followed. For an instant Thorpe and I were alone, face to face.

"Why did he do it?" he asked.

"Because he thought that Angela had married the wrong man; but she-- didn't."

When I caught Ajax up, Angela was still ahead, running like a mad creature.

"Jim never took off his boots," said Ajax.

"Nor his coat."

"All the same, the love of life is strong."

"We don't know how far he was from the water; the fall may have killed him."

"I feel in my bones that he is not dead, and that Angela will find him."

We pressed on, unwilling to be outstripped by a woman, but sensible that we were running ourselves to a standstill. The fog was thicker near the water's edge, and Angela's figure loomed through the mist like that of a wraith, but we still heard her piteous cry: "Jim--Jim!"

We were nearly spent when we overtook her. She had stopped where the foam from the breakers lay thick upon the sand.

"Listen!" she said.

We heard nothing but our thumping hearts and the raucous note of some sea-bird.

"He answered me!" she a.s.serted with conviction. "There!"

Certainly my ears caught a faint cry to the left. We ran on, forgetting our bruises. Again Angela called, and out of the mist beyond the breakers came an answering voice. We shouted back and plunged into the surf. Angela knelt down upon the sand.

Afterwards we admitted that Angela had saved his life, although Jim could not have fought his way through the breakers without our help.

Indeed, when we got him ash.o.r.e, I made certain that he was dead. Had Angela's instinct or intuition failed, had she hesitated for a few minutes, Jim would have drowned within a few hundred yards of the spot where the balloon struck. Since, Jim has maintained that he was sinking when he heard her voice; her faint, attenuated tones infused strength into his limbs and hope into his heart.