Nothing could
be truer than that it contained the three world renowned men and that it
now lay in the black depths of the Pacific Ocean.
But here opinions began to diverge. Some courageous breasts soon refused
to accept the prevalent idea.
"They're killed by the shock!" cried the crowd.
"Killed?" exclaimed the hopeful ones; "Not a bit of it! The water here
is deep enough to break a fall twice as great."
"They're smothered for want of air!" exclaimed the crowd.
"Their stock may not be run out yet!" was the ready reply. "Their air
apparatus is still on hand."
"They're burned to a cinder!" shrieked the crowd.
"They had not time to be burned!" answered the Band of Hope. "The
Projectile did not get hot till it reached the atmosphere, through which
it tore in a few seconds."
"If they're neither burned nor smothered nor killed by the shock,
they're sure to be drowned!" persisted the crowd, with redoubled
lamentations.
"Fish 'em up first!" cried the Hopeful Band. "Come! Let's lose no time!
Let's fish 'em up at once!"
The cries of Hope prevailed. The unanimous opinion of a council of the
officers hastily summoned together by the Captain was to go to work and
fish up the Projectile with the least possible delay.
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