50+ Space Action Adventure Classics. Жюль Верн

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СКАЧАТЬ time, they became aware of a very big, golden-brown balloon low in the sky to the northwest, and coming rapidly towards them. “Jest as we’re gettin’ hold of ‘em,” muttered Grubb, “up comes a counter-attraction. Go it, Bert!”

      “Ting-a-ling-a-ting-a-ling-a-ting-a-ling-a-tang

       What Price Hairpins Now?”

      The balloon rose and fell, went out of sight — “landed, thank goodness,” said Grubb — reappeared with a leap. “‘ENG!” said Grubb. “Step it, Bert, or they’ll see it!”

      They finished their dance, and then stood frankly staring.

      “There’s something wrong with that balloon,” said Bert.

      Everybody now was looking at the balloon, drawing rapidly nearer before a brisk northwesterly breeze. The song and dance were a “dead frost.” Nobody thought any more about it. Even Bert and Grubb forgot it, and ignored the next item on the programme altogether. The balloon was bumping as though its occupants were trying to land; it would approach, sinking slowly, touch the ground, and instantly jump fifty feet or so in the air and immediately begin to fall again. Its car touched a clump of trees, and the black figure that had been struggling in the ropes fell back, or jumped back, into the car. In another moment it was quite close. It seemed a huge affair, as big as a house, and it floated down swiftly towards the sands; a long rope trailed behind it, and enormous shouts came from the man in the car. He seemed to be taking off his clothes, then his head came over the side of the car. “Catch hold of the rope!” they heard, quite plain.

      “Salvage, Bert!” cried Grubb, and started to head off the rope.

      Bert followed him, and collided, without upsetting, with a fisherman bent upon a similar errand. A woman carrying a baby in her arms, two small boys with toy spades, and a stout gentleman in flannels all got to the trailing rope at about the same time, and began to dance over it in their attempts to secure it. Bert came up to this wriggling, elusive serpent and got his foot on it, went down on all fours and achieved a grip. In half a dozen seconds the whole diffused population of the beach had, as it were, crystallised on the rope, and was pulling against the balloon under the vehement and stimulating directions of the man in the car. “Pull, I tell you!” said the man in the car — “pull!”

      For a second or so the btlloon obeyed its momentum and the wind and tugged its human anchor seaward. It dropped, touched the water, and made a flat, silvery splash, and recoiled as one’s finger recoils when one touches anything hot. “Pull her in,” said the man in the car. “SHE’S FAINTED!”

      He occupied himself with some unseen object while the people on the rope pulled him in. Bert was nearest the balloon, and much excited and interested. He kept stumbling over the tail of the Dervish costume in his zeal. He had never imagined before what a big, light, wallowing thing a balloon was. The car was of brown coarse wickerwork, and comparatively small. The rope he tugged at was fastened to a stout-looking ring, four or five feet above the car. At each tug he drew in a yard or so of rope, and the waggling wickerwork was drawn so much nearer. Out of the car came wrathful bellowings: “Fainted, she has!” and then: “It’s her heart — broken with all she’s had to go through.”

      The balloon ceased to struggle, and sank downward. Bert dropped the rope, and ran forward to catch it in a new place. In another moment he had his hand on the car. “Lay hold of it,” said the man in the ear, and his face appeared close to Bert’s — a strangely familiar face, fierce eyebrows, a flattish nose, a huge black moustache. He had discarded coat and waistcoat — perhaps with some idea of presently having to swim for his life — and his black hair was extraordinarily disordered. “Will all you people get hold round the car?” he said. “There’s a lady here fainted — or got failure of the heart. Heaven alone knows which! My name is Butteridge. Butteridge, my name is — in a balloon. Now please, all on to the edge. This is the last time I trust myself to one of these paleolithic contrivances. The ripping-cord failed, and the valve wouldn’t act. If ever I meet the scoundrel who ought to have seen — ”

      He stuck his head out between the ropes abruptly, and said, in a note of earnest expostulation: “Get some brandy! — some neat brandy!” Some one went up the beach for it.

      In the car, sprawling upon a sort of bed-bench, in an attitude of elaborate self-abandonment, was a large, blond lady, wearing a fur coat and a big floriferous hat. Her head lolled back against the padded corner of the car, and her eyes were shut and her mouth open. “Me dear!” said Mr. Butteridge, in a common, loud voice, “we’re safe!”

      She gave no sign.

      “Me dear!” said Mr. Butteridge, in a greatly intensified loud voice, “we’re safe!”

      She was still quite impassive.

      Then Mr. Butteridge showed the fiery core of his soul. “If she is dead,” he said, slowly lifting a fist towards the balloon above him, and speaking in an immense tremulous bellow — “if she is dead, I will r-r-rend the heavens like a garment! I must get her out,” he cried, his nostrils dilated with emotion-“I must get her out. I cannot have her die in a wickerwork basket nine feet square — she who was made for kings’ palaces! Keep holt of this car! Is there a strong man among ye to take her if I hand her out?”

      He swept the lady together by a powerful movement of his arms, and lifted her. “Keep the car from jumping,” he said to those who clustered about him. “Keep your weight on it. She is no light woman, and when she is out of it — it will be relieved.”

      Bert leapt lightly into a sitting position on the edge of the car. The others took a firmer grip upon the ropes and ring.

      “Are you ready?” said Mr. Butteridge.

      He stood upon the bed-bench and lifted the lady carefully. Then he sat down on the wicker edge opposite to Bert, and put one leg over to dangle outside. A rope or so seemed to incommode him. “Will some one assist me?” he said. “If they would take this lady?”

      It was just at this moment, with Mr. Butteridge and the lady balanced finely on the basket brim, that she came-to. She came-to suddenly and violently with a loud, heartrending cry of “Alfred! Save me!” And she waved her arms searchingly, and then clasped Mr. Butteridge about.

      It seemed to Bert that the car swayed for a moment and then buck-jumped and kicked him. Also he saw the boots of the lady and the right leg of the gentleman describing arcs through the air, preparatory to vanishing over the side of the car. His impressions were complex, but they also comprehended the fact that he had lost his balance, and was going to stand on his head inside this creaking basket. He spread out clutching arms. He did stand on his head, more or less, his tow-beard came off and got in his mouth, and his cheek slid along against padding. His nose buried itself in a bag of sand. The car gave a violent lurch, and became still.

      “Confound it!” he said.

      He had an impression he must be stunned because of a surging in his ears, and because all the voices of the people about him had become small and remote. They were shouting like elves inside a hill.

      He found it a little difficult to get on his feet. His limbs were mixed up with the garments Mr. Butteridge had discarded when that gentleman had thought he must needs plunge into the sea. Bert bawled out half angry, half rueful, “You might have said you were going to tip the basket.” Then he stood up and clutched the ropes of the car convulsively.

      Below him, far below him, shining blue, were the waters of the English Channel. Far off, a little thing in the sunshine, and rushing down as if some one was bending it hollow, was СКАЧАТЬ