With all their knowledge of physics, not a single
one of those scientific gentlemen had remembered the great fundamental
law that governs sinking or floating bodies. Thanks to its slight
specific gravity, the Projectile, after reaching unknown depths of ocean
through the terrific momentum of its fall, had been at last arrested in
its course and even obliged to return to the surface.
By this time, all the passengers of the _Susquehanna_ could easily
recognize the object of such weary longings and desperate searches,
floating quietly a short distance before them in the last rays of the
declining day!
The boats were out in an instant. Marston and his friends took the
Captain's gig. The rowers pulled with a will towards the rapidly nearing
Projectile. What did it contain? The living or the dead? The living
certainly! as Marston whispered to those around him; otherwise how could
they have ever run up that flag?
The boats approached in perfect silence, all hearts throbbing with the
intensity of newly awakened hope, all eyes eagerly watching for some
sign to confirm it. No part of the windows appeared over the water, but
the trap hole had been thrown open, and through it came the pole that
bore the American flag.
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