Part 17 (1/2)

The arrangement, as the doctor called it, was simple enough. Three pieces of coral, in the shape of a rose, a thistle, and shamrock, encased--nay, I may say enshrined--in a beautiful casket of crystal and gilded ebony. There was the milk-white rose of England and the blood-red thistle of Scotland side by side, and fondly twining around them the shamrock of old Ireland--all in black.

Here was the motto underneath them--

”Perseverando.”

”There is nothing like perseverance,” said Allan. ”The little coral insect thereby builds islands, ay, and founds continents, destined to be stages on which will be worked out or fought out the histories of nations yet unborn. 'Perseverando!' it is a grand and bold motto, and I love it.”

The Frenchman had been standing before the casket; he now turned quickly round to Allan and held out his hand.

”You are a bold man,” he said; ”you will come with me to-day in de balloon?”

”I will,” said Allan.

”We vill soar far above yonder mountain,” continued De Vere; ”we vill descend into the crater. We vill do vat mortal man has neever done before. Perseverando! Do you fear?”

”Fear?” said Allan; ”no! I fear nothing under the sun. Whate'er a man dares he can do.”

”Bravely spoken,” cried the Frenchman. ”Perseverando! I have room for two more.”

”Perseverando!” says Rory. ”Perseverando for ever! Hoorah! I'm one of you, boys.”

Ralph was lying on the sofa, reading a book. But he doubled down a leaf, got up, and stretched himself.

”Here,” he said, quietly, ”you fellows mustn't have all the fun; I'll go toe, just to see fair play. But, I say,” he added, after a moment's pause, ”I don't suppose there will be any refreshment-stalls down there--eh?”

”No, that there won't,” cried Allan. ”Hi! Peter, pack a basket for four.”

”Ay, ay, sir?” said Peter.

”And, I say, Peter--” This from Ralph.

”Yes, sir,” said the steward, pausing in the doorway.

”Enough for twenty,” said Ralph. ”That's all, Peter.”

”Thank'ee, sir,” said Peter, laughing; ”I'll see to that, sir.”

It was some time before De Vere succeeded in gaining Captain McBain's consent to the embarkation of his boys on this wild and strange adventure, but he was talked over at last.

”It is all for the good of science, I suppose,” he said, half doubtfully, as he shook hands with our heroes before they took their places in the car. ”G.o.d keep you, boys. I'm not at all sure I'll ever see one of you again.”

The ropes were let go, and upwards into the clear air rose the mighty balloon.

”Here's a lark,” said Allan.

”A skylark,” said Rory. ”Let us sing, boys--let us sing as we soar, 'Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves.'”

Standing on the quarter-deck, and gazing upwards, McBain heard the voices growing fainter and fainter, and saw the balloon lessening and lessening, till the song could no longer be heard, and the balloon itself was but a tiny speck in the heaven's blue. Then he went down below, and busied himself all day with calculations. He didn't want to think.

Meanwhile, how fared it with our boys? Here they were, all together, embarked upon as strange an expedition as it has ever probably been the lot of any youth or youths to try the chance of. Yet I do not think that anything approaching to fear found place in the hearts of one of them. The situation was novel in the extreme. With a slow and steady but imperceptible motion--for she was weightily ballasted--the ”Perseverando,” as they had named the balloon, was mounting skywards.

There was not the slightest air or wind, nor the tiniest of clouds to be seen anywhere, and down beneath and around them was spread out a panorama, which but to gaze upon held them spell-bound.