Those whom the hurricane had just thrown on this coast were neither aeronauts by profession nor amateurs. They were prisoners of war whose boldness had induced them to escape in this extraordinary manner.
A hundred times they had almost perished! A hundred times had they almost fallen from their torn balloon into the depths of the ocean. But Heaven had reserved them for a strange destiny, and after having, on the 20th of March, escaped from Richmond, besieged1 by the troops of General Ulysses Grant, they found themselves seven thousand miles from the capital of Virginia, which was the principal stronghold of the South, during the terrible War of Secession. Their aerial voyage had lasted five days.
The curious circumstances which led to the escape of the prisoners were as follows:
That same year, in the month of February, 1865, in one of the coups2 de main by which General Grant attempted, though in vain, to possess himself of Richmond, several of his officers fell into the power of the enemy and were detained in the town. One of the most distinguished3 was Captain Cyrus Harding. He was a native of Massachusetts, a first-class engineer, to whom the government had confided4, during the war, the direction of the railways, which were so important at that time. A true Northerner, thin, bony, lean, about forty-five years of age; his close-cut hair and his beard, of which he only kept a thick mustache, were already getting gray. He had one-of those finely-developed heads which appear made to be struck on a medal, piercing eyes, a serious mouth, the physiognomy of a clever man of the military school. He was one of those engineers who began by handling the hammer and pickaxe, like generals who first act as common soldiers. Besides mental power, he also possessed5 great manual dexterity6. His muscles exhibited remarkable7 proofs of tenacity8. A man of action as well as a man of thought, all he did was without effort to one of his vigorous and sanguine9 temperament10. Learned, clear-headed, and practical, he fulfilled in all emergencies those three conditions which united ought to insure human success--activity of mind and body, impetuous wishes, and powerful will. He might have taken for his motto that of William of Orange in the 17th century: "I can undertake and persevere11 even without hope of success." Cyrus Harding was courage personified. He had been in all the battles of that war. After having begun as a volunteer at Illinois, under Ulysses Grant, he fought at Paducah, Belmont, Pittsburg Landing, at the siege of Corinth, Port Gibson, Black River, Chattanooga, the Wilderness12, on the Potomac, everywhere and valiantly13, a soldier worthy14 of the general who said, "I never count my dead!" And hundreds of times Captain Harding had almost been among those who were not counted by the terrible Grant; but in these combats where he never spared himself, fortune favored him till the moment when he was wounded and taken prisoner on the field of battle near Richmond. At the same time and on the same day another important personage fell into the hands of the Southerners. This was no other than Gideon Spilen, a reporter for the New York Herald15, who had been ordered to follow the changes of the war in the midst of the Northern armies.
Gideon Spilett was one of that race of indomitable English or American chroniclers, like Stanley and others, who stop at nothing to obtain exact information, and transmit it to their journal in the shortest possible time. The newspapers of the Union, such as the New York Herald, are genuine powers, and their reporters are men to be reckoned with. Gideon Spilett ranked among the first of those reporters: a man of great merit, energetic, prompt and ready for anything, full of ideas, having traveled over the whole world, soldier and artist, enthusiastic in council, resolute16 in action, caring neither for trouble, fatigue17, nor danger, when in pursuit of information, for himself first, and then for his journal, a perfect treasury18 of knowledge on all sorts of curious subjects, of the unpublished, of the unknown, and of the impossible. He was one of those intrepid19 observers who write under fire, "reporting" among bullets, and to whom every danger is welcome.
He also had been in all the battles, in the first rank, revolver in one hand, note-book in the other; grape-shot never made his pencil tremble. He did not fatigue the wires with incessant20 telegrams, like those who speak when they have nothing to say, but each of his notes, short, decisive, and clear, threw light on some important point. Besides, he was not wanting in humor. It was he who, after the affair of the Black River, determined21 at any cost to keep his place at the wicket of the telegraph office, and after having announced to his journal the result of the battle, telegraphed for two hours the first chapters of the Bible. It cost the New York Herald two thousand dollars, but the New York Herald published the first intelligence.
Gideon Spilett was tall. He was rather more than forty years of age. Light whiskers bordering on red surrounded his face. His eye was steady, lively, rapid in its changes. It was the eye of a man accustomed to take in at a glance all the details of a scene. Well built, he was inured22 to all climates, like a bar of steel hardened in cold water.
For ten years Gideon Spilett had been the reporter of the New York Herald, which he enriched by his letters and drawings, for he was as skilful23 in the use of the pencil as of the pen. When he was captured, he was in the act of making a description and sketch24 of the battle. The last words in his note-book were these: "A Southern rifleman has just taken aim at me, but--" The Southerner notwithstanding missed Gideon Spilett, who, with his usual fortune, came out of this affair without a scratch.
Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett, who did not know each other except by reputation, had both been carried to Richmond. The engineer's wounds rapidly healed, and it was during his convalescence25 that he made acquaintance with the reporter. The two men then learned to appreciate each other. Soon their common aim had but one object, that of escaping, rejoining Grant's army, and fighting together in the ranks of the Federals.
The two Americans had from the first determined to seize every chance; but although they were allowed to wander at liberty in the town, Richmond was so strictly26 guarded, that escape appeared impossible. In the meanwhile Captain Harding was rejoined by a servant who was devoted27 to him in life and in death. This intrepid fellow was a Negro born on the engineer's estate, of a slave father and mother, but to whom Cyrus, who was an Abolitionist from conviction and heart, had long since given his freedom. The once slave, though free, would not leave his master. He would have died for him. He was a man of about thirty, vigorous, active, clever, intelligent, gentle, and calm, sometimes naive28, always merry, obliging, and honest. His name was Nebuchadnezzar, but he only answered to the familiar abbreviation of Neb.
When Neb heard that his master had been made prisoner, he left Massachusetts without hesitating an instant, arrived before Richmond, and by dint29 of stratagem30 and shrewdness, after having risked his life twenty times over, managed to penetrate31 into the besieged town. The pleasure of Harding on seeing his servant, and the joy of Neb at finding his master, can scarcely be described.
But though Neb had been able to make his way into Richmond, it was quite another thing to get out again, for the Northern prisoners were very strictly watched. Some extraordinary opportunity was needed to make the attempt with any chance of success, and this opportunity not only did not present itself, but was very difficult to find.
Meanwhile Grant continued his energetic operations. The victory of Petersburg had been very dearly bought. His forces, united to those of Butler, had as yet been unsuccessful before Richmond, and nothing gave the prisoners any hope of a speedy deliverance.
The reporter, to whom his tedious captivity32 did not offer a single incident worthy of note, could stand it no longer. His usually active mind was occupied with one sole thought--how he might get out of Richmond at any cost. Several times had he even made the attempt, but was stopped by some insurmountable obstacle. However, the siege continued; and if the prisoners were anxious to escape and join Grant's army, certain of the besieged were no less anxious to join the Southern forces. Among them was one Jonathan Forster, a determined Southerner. The truth was, that if the prisoners of the Secessionists could not leave the town, neither could the Secessionists themselves while the Northern army invested it. The Governor of Richmond for a long time had been unable to communicate with General Lee, and he very much wished to make known to him the situation of the town, so as to hasten the march of the army to their relief. Thus Jonathan Forster accordingly conceived the idea of rising in a balloon, so as to pass over the besieging33 lines, and in that way reach the Secessionist camp.
The Governor authorized34 the attempt. A balloon was manufactured and placed at the disposal of Forster, who was to be accompanied by five other persons. They were furnished with arms in case they might have to defend themselves when they alighted, and provisions in the event of their aerial voyage being prolonged.
The departure of the balloon was fixed35 for the 18th of March. It should be effected during the night, with a northwest wind of moderate force, and the aeronauts calculated that they would reach General Lee's camp in a few hours.
But this northwest wind was not a simple breeze. From the 18th it was evident that it was changing to a hurricane. The tempest soon became such that Forster's departure was deferred36, for it was impossible to risk the balloon and those whom it carried in the midst of the furious elements.
The balloon, inflated37 on the great square of Richmond, was ready to depart on the first abatement39 of the wind, and, as may be supposed, the impatience40 among the besieged to see the storm moderate was very great.
The 18th, the 19th of March passed without any alteration41 in the weather. There was even great difficulty in keeping the balloon fastened to the ground, as the squalls dashed it furiously about.
The night of the 19th passed, but the next morning the storm blew with redoubled force. The departure of the balloon was impossible.
On that day the engineer, Cyrus Harding, was accosted43 in one of the streets of Richmond by a person whom he did not in the least know. This was a sailor named Pencroft, a man of about thirty-five or forty years of age, strongly built, very sunburnt, and possessed of a pair of bright sparkling eyes and a remarkably44 good physiognomy. Pencroft was an American from the North, who had sailed all the ocean over, and who had gone through every possible and almost impossible adventure that a being with two feet and no wings would encounter. It is needless to say that he was a bold, dashing fellow, ready to dare anything and was astonished at nothing. Pencroft at the beginning of the year had gone to Richmond on business, with a young boy of fifteen from New Jersey45, son of a former captain, an orphan46, whom he loved as if he had been his own child. Not having been able to leave the town before the first operations of the siege, he found himself shut up, to his great disgust; but, not accustomed to succumb47 to difficulties, he resolved to escape by some means or other. He knew the engineer-officer by reputation; he knew with what impatience that determined man chafed48 under his restraint. On this day he did not, therefore, hesitate to accost42 him, saying, without circumlocution49, "Have you had enough of Richmond, captain?"
The engineer looked fixedly50 at the man who spoke51, and who added, in a low voice,--
"Captain Harding, will you try to escape?"
"When?" asked the engineer quickly, and it was evident that this question was uttered without consideration, for he had not yet examined the stranger who addressed him. But after having with a penetrating52 eye observed the open face of the sailor, he was convinced that he had before him an honest man.
"Who are you?" he asked briefly53.
Pencroft made himself known.
"Well," replied Harding, "and in what way do you propose to escape?"
"By that lazy balloon which is left there doing nothing, and which looks to me as if it was waiting on purpose for us--"
There was no necessity for the sailor to finish his sentence. The engineer understood him at once. He seized Pencroft by the arm, and dragged him to his house. There the sailor developed his project, which was indeed extremely simple. They risked nothing but their lives in its execution. The hurricane was in all its violence, it is true, but so clever and daring an engineer as Cyrus Harding knew perfectly54 well how to manage a balloon. Had he himself been as well acquainted with the art of sailing in the air as he was with the navigation of a ship, Pencroft would not have hesitated to set out, of course taking his young friend Herbert with him; for, accustomed to brave the fiercest tempests of the ocean, he was not to be hindered on account of the hurricane.
Captain Harding had listened to the sailor without saying a word, but his eyes shone with satisfaction. Here was the long-sought-for opportunity--he was not a man to let it pass. The plan was feasible, though, it must be confessed, dangerous in the extreme. In the night, in spite of their guards, they might approach the balloon, slip into the car, and then cut the cords which held it. There was no doubt that they might be killed, but on the other hand they might succeed, and without this storm!--Without this storm the balloon would have started already and the looked-for opportunity would not have then presented itself.
"I am not alone!" said Harding at last.
"How many people do you wish to bring with you?" asked the sailor.
"Two; my friend Spilett, and my servant Neb."
"That will be three," replied Pencroft; "and with Herbert and me five. But the balloon will hold six--"
"That will be enough, we will go," answered Harding in a firm voice.
This "we" included Spilett, for the reporter, as his friend well knew, was not a man to draw back, and when the project was communicated to him he approved of it unreservedly. What astonished him was, that so simple an idea had not occurred to him before. As to Neb, he followed his master wherever his master wished to go.
"This evening, then," said Pencroft, "we will all meet out there."
"This evening, at ten o'clock," replied Captain Harding; "and Heaven grant that the storm does not abate38 before our departure."
Pencroft took leave of the two friends, and returned to his lodging55, where young Herbert Brown had remained. The courageous56 boy knew of the sailor's plan, and it was not without anxiety that he awaited the result of the proposal being made to the engineer. Thus five determined persons were about to abandon themselves to the mercy of the tempestuous57 elements!
No! the storm did not abate, and neither Jonathan Forster nor his companions dreamed of confronting it in that frail58 car.
It would be a terrible journey. The engineer only feared one thing; it was that the balloon, held to the ground and dashed about by the wind, would be torn into shreds59. For several hours he roamed round the nearly- deserted60 square, surveying the apparatus61. Pencroft did the same on his side, his hands in his pockets, yawning now and then like a man who did not know how to kill the time, but really dreading62, like his friend, either the escape or destruction of the balloon. Evening arrived. The night was dark in the extreme. Thick mists passed like clouds close to the ground. Rain fell mingled63 with snow. it was very cold. A mist hung over Richmond. it seemed as if the violent storm had produced a truce64 between the besiegers and the besieged, and that the cannon65 were silenced by the louder detonations66 of the storm. The streets of the town were deserted. It had not even appeared necessary in that horrible weather to place a guard in the square, in the midst of which plunged67 the balloon. Everything favored the departure of the prisoners, but what might possibly be the termination of the hazardous68 voyage they contemplated69 in the midst of the furious elements?--
"Dirty weather!" exclaimed Pencroft, fixing his hat firmly on his head with a blow of his fist; "but pshaw, we shall succeed all the same!"
At half-past nine, Harding and his companions glided70 from different directions into the square, which the gas-lamps, extinguished by the wind, had left in total obscurity. Even the enormous balloon, almost beaten to the ground, could not be seen. Independently of the sacks of ballast, to which the cords of the net were fastened, the car was held by a strong cable passed through a ring in the pavement. The five prisoners met by the car. They had not been perceived, and such was the darkness that they could not even see each other.
Without speaking a word, Harding, Spilett, Neb, and Herbert took their places in the car, while Pencroft by the engineer's order detached successively the bags of ballast. It was the work of a few minutes only, and the sailor rejoined his companions.
The balloon was then only held by the cable, and the engineer had nothing to do but to give the word.
At that moment a dog sprang with a bound into the car. It was Top, a favorite of the engineer. The faithful creature, having broken his chain, had followed his master. He, however, fearing that its additional weight might impede71 their ascent72, wished to send away the animal.
"One more will make but little difference, poor beast!" exclaimed Pencroft, heaving out two bags of sand, and as he spoke letting go the cable; the balloon ascending73 in an oblique74 direction, disappeared, after having dashed the car against two chimneys, which it threw down as it swept by them.
Then, indeed, the full rage of the hurricane was exhibited to the voyagers. During the night the engineer could not dream of descending75, and when day broke, even a glimpse of the earth below was intercepted76 by fog.
Five days had passed when a partial clearing allowed them to see the wide extending ocean beneath their feet, now lashed77 into the maddest fury by the gale78.
Our readers will recollect79 what befell these five daring individuals who set out on their hazardous expedition in the balloon on the 20th of March. Five days afterwards four of them were thrown on a desert coast, seven thousand miles from their country! But one of their number was missing, the man who was to be their guide, their leading spirit, the engineer, Captain Harding! The instant they had recovered their feet, they all hurried to the beach in the hopes of rendering80 him
那几个刚才被飓风抛掷在海岸上的人，根本不是什么气球飞行员——既不是职业的，也不是业余的，而是一群战俘。正因为他们个个英勇，人人豪迈，所以才想出这种异想天开的办法来逃脱。”
他们出生入死已经有几百次了！他们也有数百次几乎从破裂的气球上掉到海洋的深渊。但是不知为什么，上天却别具用心地保全了他们的生命。在3月20日那天，他们逃出了里士满，在空中连续飞行了五天，现在他们离开那弗吉尼亚的首府已经有七千英里了。在可怕的南北战争期间，里士满是南方的要塞，当时正被尤利斯.格兰特将军的部队包围。
战俘们逃跑的经过是这样的：
1865年2月间，格兰特将军打算出奇制胜，占领里士满，可是没有成功，结果他部下的几个军官却落到敌人手里，被囚禁在城内。其中最突出的一个是联邦参谋部的赛勒斯.史密斯。他是马萨诸塞州人，一位渊博的学者，在战争期间，政府曾委派他负责当时在战略上极其重要的铁路的管理工作。他是一位道地的北方人，瘦骨嶙峋的，约有四十五岁，他的短头发和一小撮浓胡子都已经灰白了。他的头部长得非常端正，仿佛生来是为了铸在勋章上似的，两眼炯炯有光，嘴形庄严，从面貌看，他显得是一个激进派的学者。他是一个从舞锤弄斧做起的工程师，正如一个行伍出身的将军一样。他不但脑子灵，而且手也巧。他的筋肉显得非常强壮。他是一个活动家，同时又是一个思想家。他热情乐观，任何一件事都难不倒他。他见多识广，善于随机应变，在任何紧要关头，他都能保持清醒的头脑，无限的信心和坚强的毅力；这三个条件使他永远是他自己的主人。他常常引用十六世纪奥兰治的威廉的话作为自己的座右铭：“即使已经没有成功的希望，我也能够承担任务，坚忍不拔。”
赛勒斯.史密斯就是勇敢的化身。他参加过南北战争的各次战役。他自从在伊利诺斯州自愿投效尤利斯.格兰特麾下以来，曾在巴丢卡、柏尔梦特、匹兹堡埠头等地作战，在围攻科林斯、吉布森港、黑河、差坦诺加、魏尔德涅斯、颇陀马克等地的战役中，始终是勇猛善战，并没有辜负那位说“我决不计算我的伤亡”的将军的训导。史密斯好几百次几乎成为威严的格兰特所不计算的阵亡将士。但是，他在这些战斗中，直到在里士满战场上受伤被俘以前，一直是很幸运地平安无事。就在史密斯被俘的那一天，还有一位重要人物也落到南军手里。这就是《纽约先驱报》的通讯记者吉丁.史佩莱，他是奉命跟随北军作战地报道的。
吉丁.史佩莱在英、美新闻采访员当中，也是一位有名的人物，正象史坦莱等人一样，不管什么困难也不能使他退缩，他也要采访到正确消息，并且在最短时间内把消息送给自己的报刊。联邦的许多报纸，例如《纽约先驱报》，都拥有坚强的实力，报刊的通讯记者就是它们的代表。吉丁.史佩莱又是第一流的记者：他是一位精明强于、体力充沛、办事敏捷、善于开动脑筋的人；他环游过世界各地；他是一个兵士，也是一个艺术家；他在谈话时很热情，行动时很坚决，既不顾虑劳累，也不害怕危险；采访新闻的时候，他首先是为了自己，也是为了他的报刊；凡是新奇的、没有发表过的、别人不知道同时也没法采访到的事物，他全都知道；他是一位浑身是胆的战地记者，惯于在枪林弹雨中写稿，危险，对于他来说，就是最好的报道资料。
他参加过各次战役，每次都在最前线，一手拿着左轮枪，一手拿着笔记簿；葡萄弹从来也没有使他的铅笔颤抖；他决不象有些人没话找话说，而总是不厌其烦地打着电报；他的每一篇报道都很简短有力、明确、能够说明要点。此外，他还很幽默。黑河的战事结束以后，决心不借任何代价独占电报局窗洞的就是他。他在向他的报刊报道了战役的结果以后，接着就拍发圣经的前几章，一共拍了两个钟头之久，虽然花费了两千美元，但《纽约先驱报》却首先登载了这个消息。
吉丁.史佩莱身材高大，大约有四十来岁。淡红色的胡须围绕着他的面庞。眼光坚定活泼，而且变化迅速。只要目光一扫，他就可以把一切景象一览无遗了。他体格健壮，能够适应各种气候，好象一根在冷水中淬硬了的钢筋。
吉丁.史佩莱担任《纽约先驱报》的通讯记者已经有十年了。他不但文笔美妙，并且精于绘画，他的通讯和插图大大充实了报刊的内容，他被俘的时候，还正在描写战役和画素描，他的笔记簿中的最后一句是：“一个南军正拿枪对着我，但是……”然而那个南军的兵士并没有打中吉丁.史佩莱，他一向是幸运的，在这次事件中也没有受一点伤。
赛勒斯.史密斯和吉丁.史佩莱过去只是闻其名而没有见过面，他们一起被押送到里士满。工程师的创伤很快就痊愈了，就在他养伤的期间他认识了这位通讯记者。他们一见面就建立了友谊。不久以后，他们产生了一个共同的目的，那就是逃回格兰特的军中，为了联邦的统一而继续战斗。
这两个美国人一开始就想找机会逃跑；虽然他们能够自由地在市镇里溜达，但是里士满戒备严密，逃脱似乎是不可能的。在这期间，史密斯遇到了一个昔日的仆人，他是一个愿意为史密斯竭尽忠诚的人。他是一个勇士，也是一个黑人，是在工程师家里出生的，他的父母都是奴隶。但是，赛勒斯在信仰上和道义上都反对奴隶制，因此早就让他自由了。这个曾经当过奴隶的人，虽然得到了自由，还是不愿意离开他的主人。他情愿为他的主人效死，他大约有三十岁，强壮、活泼、聪明、伶俐、温柔、和顺、有时还有点天真，平时总是一团高兴，勤恳而诚实。他的名字叫做纳布加尼察，但他已经习惯让人们简称他为纳布了。
纳布听到主人被俘的消息，就毫不犹豫地离开了马萨诸塞来到里士满，凭着他的机智，冒了二十多次生命的危险之后，终于潜入了被围的城市。史密斯瞧见纳布时的喜悦和纳布找到主人的高兴，那是难以形容的。
纳布虽然能够进入里士满，但要想再溜出去就完全不同了，因为北军战俘被看守得非常严格。要想顺利地逃跑，除非遇到特别的机会！这种机会不但不会送上门来，而且很难找到。
在这期间，格兰特将军还在继续作战。他以重大的代价赢得了匹兹堡的胜利。然而在里士满战线上，他和巴特莱部队联合进攻还不能取得胜利，因此战俘们想要早日获得释放是没有什么希望的。
在这枯燥无味的囚禁生活中，没有一点值得记述的事情，通讯记者再也不能忍耐了。他那一向灵活的头脑只想着一件事——怎样能够不借任何代价逃出里士满。他甚至尝试了几次，但都被不能克服的障碍阻挡住了。围困还在继续着！如果说战俘急切要逃回格兰特的军中，那末，被围的人也迫切希望和南军取得联系，其中约拿旦.福斯特就是南军中的一个热切希望如此的人。被俘的北军固然不能出城，而南军也同样离开不了，因为他们都给北军包围了。里士满的总督很久没能和李将军取得联系了，他很想把当地的情况告诉李将军，以便迅速得到援兵。于是约拿旦.福斯特就建议利用轻气球越过包围线，直达南军的兵营。
总督批准了这个计划。造了一只轻气球供福斯特使用，另外还派了五个人做他的动手。他们携带了降落时自卫用的武器，并准备了干粮，以备航程拖延时食用。
气球预计在3月18日启航。起飞必须在夜间进行，还要有和缓的西北风。据飞行员的估计，他们在几个钟头之内就可以到达李将军的军营了。
但是，刮的却不是什么和缓的西北风。从18日起它分明已经变成飓风了。风暴很快就猛烈起来，福斯特只好延期动身，因为乘客和气球是不能在这种险恶的天气里冒险的。
轻气球灌足了气，放在里士满的一个广场上，只等风势稍弱，就要启航。困守在城里的人盼望着暴风缓和的心情是不难想象的。
3月18、19两天过去了，天气并没有什么转变。拴在地上的气球被狂风猛烈地冲过来撞过去，甚至要保护这个气球都很困难。
19日的夜晚过去了。第二天早上暴风加倍猛烈，气球更不可能起飞了。
那天，工程师赛勒斯.史密斯在里士满的一条大街上，被一个素不相识的人喊住了。这是一个水手，名叫潘克洛夫，年纪大约三十五岁到四十岁，体格强壮，皮肤晒得黝黑。长着一对炯炯发光的眼睛和非常英俊的面庞。潘克洛夫是一个美国的北方人，他航遍了各大洋，参加过一切可能和几乎不可能的探险，一切不长翅膀只长腿的生物所能碰到的遭遇他都遇到过了。可想而知，他是一个大胆而勇猛的家伙，敢作敢为，什么也吓不倒他。年初的时候，潘克洛夫有事到里士满来，他带着一个新泽西的男孩子，这是过去一个船长的孤儿，才十五岁，潘克洛夫象对待亲生子女似的爱护他。在围城以前，他没有能离开这座城市，等到发觉自己被围在城里的时候，感到十分懊丧。但是他从来不肯向困难低头，因此他决定要想法子逃出去。他听说过这位工程师军官的大名，他了解这位坚强的男子汉在囚禁中的苦闷。因此，这一天他毫不犹豫，直截了当地向工程师招呼道：“史密斯先生，你在里士满待够了吗？”
工程师呆呆地看着对他说话的人，对方又低声补充了一句：
“先生，你打算逃跑吗？”
“什么时候？”工程师连忙问道，这句话显然是脱口而出的，因为他还没有看清楚这个跟他说话的陌生人是谁。但是当他用敏锐的眼光打量了一下水手爽朗的面孔之后，他就确信对方是一个诚实的人。
“你是谁？”他简短地问道。
潘克洛夫作了自我介绍。
“好吧，”史密斯回答说，“你打算用什么法子逃呢？”
“用那只气球，它在那里什么也不干，我看它正是为我们预备的……”
水手的话没有说完，工程师就明白他的意思了。他抓住潘克洛夫的胳膊，把他拉到自己住的地方去。在那里，这位水手说出了他的计划。计划倒是十分简单，除了生命危险以外，什么危险也用不着冒。当然，飓风的威力正大，但是，象赛勒斯.史密斯这样精明强干的工程师是完全懂得怎样操纵气球的。假如潘克洛夫对飞行技术，正好象对航海一样熟悉，那么他一定早就毫不犹豫地带着他的小朋友赫伯特出发了；他惯于在海里冒狂风骇浪的危险，这场飓风是难不住他的。
史密斯一言不发地倾听着水手的讲话，他的眼中闪耀着满意的光芒。想望已久的机会终于来到了——他决不是坐失良机的人。这个计划是可以实行的，但必须承认，非常危险。夜间虽然有岗哨，他们还可能走近气球，潜入吊篮，然后割断系住吊篮的绳索。当然，他们可能被打死，但另一方面，他们也有成功的希望。要是没有这场风暴多好啊！——不过话要说回来，要是没有这场风暴，气球早已启航了，这个千载难逢的机会也就不会出现了。
“我不只是一个人！”史密斯最后说。
“你要带几个人？”水手问道。
“两个人。我的朋友史佩莱，还有我的仆人纳布。”
“那就是三个人，”潘克洛夫说，“连赫伯特和我一共是五个人。气球能载六个……”
“那就行了，我们一定走。”史密斯坚决地说。
这个“我们”包括史佩莱在内，因为史密斯非常了解，这位通讯记者不是胆小如鼠的人。史佩莱听到这个计划以后，表示完全同意。使他惊奇的是：这么简单的办法自己以前竟没有想到。至于纳布，他是到处追随着他的主人的。
“那么，今天晚上，”潘克洛夫说，“大家都到那里集合。”
“今天晚上十点钟，”史密斯回答说，“但愿上天保佑，在我们离开以前，风势不要减弱。”
潘克洛夫辞别了工程师，回他的寓所去了。年轻的赫伯特.布朗还独自留在那里。这个勇敢的少年知道水手的计划，焦急地盼望着向工程师提议的结果。这五个意志坚决的人就这样打算在暴风雨中碰碰运气了！
没有！风势并没有减退，约拿旦.福斯特和他的伙伴们都不愿意在不保险的吊篮里任凭风吹雨打。
这一天是不好过的。工程师只担心一件事，担心那系在地面上的气球在大风猛烈的撞击下可能被撕成碎片。他在几乎空旷无人的广场上来回踱了几个钟头，看着这个飞行工具。潘克洛夫也采取了同样的行动，他双手插在衣袋里，好象设法消磨时间似的，不时打着呵欠，但是实际上也象他的朋友那样，十分担心气球会不会损坏，风会不会刮断它的绳索，把它刮到天空去。天晚了。夜色非常昏暗。大雾象乌云一般弥漫在地面上。天空同时下着雨和雪。气候非常寒冷。浓雾笼罩着里士满。强烈的风暴似乎在攻和守的双方之间造成了休战状态，大炮的声音在怒吼的狂风中一点也听不到了。城市的街道上不见人影，在这么恶劣的天气里，官方似乎没有想到会丢失气球，因此觉得没有必要在广场上设岗。这一切都是俘虏们脱逃的有利条件，但是，他们在狂风暴雨中所作的冒险尝试最后会怎么样呢？
“天气真坏！”潘克洛夫喊道，他一拳压住了头上那顶要被风刮走的帽子。“但是，啊，我们还是会成功的！”
九点半钟，史密斯和他的伙伴们从不同的方向来到广场，大风吹灭了汽灯，广场上一片漆黑。连那几乎被吹倒在地上的大气球也看不见了。网索是系在沙囊上的，而吊篮却是单独用一根结实的钢缆穿在便道的一个铁环里。五个俘虏在吊篮旁边会合了。他们没有被人发现，由于天色昏黑，甚至他们彼此都看不见。
史密斯、史佩莱、纳布和赫伯特一言不发地在吊篮里各自坐了下来，潘克洛夫按照工程师的指示把沙囊一一解开。只花了几分钟的工夫，水手就回到他的伙伴们身边来了。
系着气球的只剩下一根钢缆，只要工程师一声号令就可以起飞了。
就在这时候，突然有一只狗跳到吊篮里来。原来是工程师的爱犬托普。这只忠实的畜生挣断链索，赶上了它的主人。工程师怕这份外加的重量会影响他们的上升，想打发它走。
“可怜的畜生！就多它一个吧！”潘克洛夫一面说，一面把两袋沙土扔了出去，减轻了吊篮的重量，然后解开钢缆，气球斜着往上升去，由于起势猛烈，吊篮在两个烟囱上碰了一下，然后才消失得无影无踪。
飓风可怕地怒吼着。在夜间下降，工程师连想也不敢想；拂晓时，下面的大地被浓雾遮蔽得一点也看不见。
五天以后他们才从云隙中看到下面的一片汪洋大海。在飓风的推送下，气球以惊人的速度飞行着。
大家都知道：在3月20日起飞的这五个人，后来在3月24日有四个人被抛弃在远离祖国六千英里的荒凉海岸上，一个人丢失了！这个丢失的人就是他们的领袖，工程师史密斯！他们刚刚着陆，就连忙赶到海滩上去，打算援救他。
