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It was then that Uncle Prudent and Phil Evans ascertained that they were bound for the southern hemisphere. The crossing of the line took place without any of the Neptunian ceremonies that still linger on certain ships. Tapage was the only one to mark the event, and he did so by pouring a pint of water down Frycollin's neck.
An instant afterwards the man was gagged and blindfolded and lashed to the rail unable to utter a sound or move an inch. This was done almost without a whisper. Uncle Prudent and Phil Evans listened. All was silent within the cabins. Every one on board was asleep. They reached Frycollin's cabin. Tapage was snoring away in a style worthy of his name, and that promised well.
They met only a few belated wayfarers, and pressed on across a wide open tract where the immense prairie was broken every now and then by the patches of thick woodland which make the park different to any other in the world. There Frycollin's terror became acute, particularly as he saw the five or six shadows gliding after him across the Schuyllkill bridge.
The mate had then run back to the stern cabin. It was empty! Tapage had searched Frycollin's cabin, and that also was empty. When he saw that the prisoners had escaped, Robur was seized with a paroxysm of anger. The escape meant the revelation of his secret to the world.
The aeronef was not only silent; she was asleep. Uncle Prudent was close to Frycollin's cabin when Phil Evans stopped him. "The look-out!" he said. A man was crouching near the deck-house. He was only half asleep. All flight would be impossible if he were to give the alarm. Close by were a few ropes, and pieces of rag and waste used in the work at the screw.
With a master ever ready to venture on the most audacious enterprises, Frycollin's cowardice had brought him many arduous trials. But he had some compensation. Very little had been said about his gluttony, and still less about his laziness. Ah, Valet Frycollin, if you could only have read the future!
"Put your back against the wall," continued Prudent, "and you, Evans, get on his shoulders while I buttress him up." "Right!" said Evans. An instant afterwards his knees were on Frycollin's shoulders, and his eyes were level with the window. The window was not of lenticular glass like those on shipboard, but was a simple flat pane.
To his great surprise, Uncle Prudent had not even to push Frycollin's door. It was open. He stepped into the doorway and looked around. "Nobody here!" he said. "Nobody! Where can he be?" asked Phil Evans. They went into the bow, thinking Frycollin might perhaps be asleep in the corner. Still they found nobody. "Has the fellow got the start of us?" asked Uncle Prudent.
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