ard! Behind us the fires fade gradually away, and disappear
one after another. Before us nothing at present visible. We seemed to
drift on for about one hundred or one hundred and fifty yards more. We
cannot distinguish a single point in front of us on which to fix our
gaze. But we still continue our course in silence.

"This mournful darkness, this endless shroud, in which we can discover
neither rent nor spangle, still continues. Where are we? Over what
strange country, possessing neither cities, towns, nor villages, are
we hovering in the tomb-like silence of this interminable darkness? We
seem, indeed, to have been carried by a puff of wind towards the west.

"But something seems to approach us. What are those pale rays of light
which we can faintly see a long, long way before us--rays pale and soft,
quite unlike those flaming fires we have left behind us? Surely these
do not denote the presence of human activity! As we continue to advance,
these pale flakes of light--resembling nothing so much in appearance as
molten lead--which at first were scanty and isolated, gradually expand,
and leave only narrow strips of darkness to divide them into fantastic
shapes. By their help we discovered we were passing over the immense
marshes of Holland, which extended to and lost themselves in the hazy
horizon. On our right hand we hear a deep moan, still distant, but
rapidly approaching every moment. It is undoubtedly the rushing of the
wind. A fresh breeze for five minutes would bring us to the sea.

"We experienced another shock not less formidable than the first. The
'Geant' is trembling from its effects. The cable of our first anchor
has just broken like a piece of thread. We could not hope for a better
result. The violence of the wind which is carrying us along seems to be
redoubled. A bump: another and another--then shock after shock.

"'The second dead men!'

"Our swift pace was shock after shock.

"'The anchor is lost,' cries Jules; 'we are all dead men!

"This truth is too palpable to all of us to require expressing in so
many words, for we are just commencing that furious, tearing course
called 'trailing.'

"Our swift pace was considerably accelerated by the lower part of
the balloon, which--limp, empty, and forming nearly a third of the
whole--had been set free at the first shock, and flapped against the
distended part, acting as a sail. The shocks continued to multiply so
fast that it was impossible to count t