The "Albatross" now headed for the north, and a few hours afterwards she was over a little hill at the northern angle of the Persian frontier, on the shores of a vast extent of water which stretched away out of sight to the north and east.
The town was Ashurada, the most southerly of the Russian stations.
The vast extent of water was a sea. It was the Caspian.
The eddies of sand had been passed.
There was a view of a group of European houses rising along a promontory, with a church tower in the midst of them.
The "Albatross" swooped down towards the surface of the sea.
Towards evening she was running along the coast-which formerly belonged to Turkestan, but now belongs to Russia--and in the morning of the 3rd of July she was about three hundred feet above the Caspian.
There was no land in sight, either on the Asiatic or European side.
On the surface of the sea a few white sails were bellying in the breeze.
These were native vessels recognizable by their peculiar rig--kesebeys, with two masts; kayuks, the old pirate-boats, with one mast; teimils, and smaller craft for trading and fishing.
Here and there a few puffs of smoke rose up to the "Albatross" from the funnels of the Ashurada streamers, which the Russians keep as the police of these Turcoman waters.
That morning Tom Turner was talking to the cook, Tapage, and to a question of his replied,
"Yes; we shall be about forty-eight hours over the Caspian."
"Good!" said the cook; "Then we can have some fishing."
"Just so."
They were to remain for forty-eight hours over the Caspian, which is some six hundred and twenty-five miles long and two hundred wide, because the speed of the
"Albatross" had been much reduced, and while the fishing was going on she would be stopped altogether.
The reply was heard by Phil Evans, who was then in the bow, where Frycollin was overwhelming him with piteous pleadings to be put "on the ground."
Without replying to this preposterous request, Evans returned aft to Uncle Prudent; and there, taking care not to be overheard, he reported the conversation that had taken place.
"Phil Evans," said Uncle Prudent, "I think there can be no mistake as to this scoundrel's intention with regard to us."
"None," said Phil Evans. "He will only give us our liberty when it suits him, and perhaps not at all."
"In that case we must do all we can to get away from the
"Albatross"."
"A splendid craft, she is, I must admit."
"Perhaps so," said Uncle Prudent; "but she belongs to a scoundrel who detains us on board in defiance of all right.
For us and ours she is a constant danger.
If we do not destroy her --"
"Let us begin by saving ourselves" answered Phil Evans; we can see about the destruction afterwards."
"Just so," said Uncle Prudent. "And we must avail ourselves of every chance that comes, along.
Evidently the "Albatross" is going to cross the Caspian into Europe, either by the north into Russia or by the west into the southern countries.
Well, no matter where we stop, before we get to the Atlantic, we shall be safe.
And we ought to be ready at any moment."
"But," asked Evans, "how are we to get out?"
"Listen to me," said Uncle Prudent.
"It may happen during the night that the "Albatross" may drop to within a few hundred feet of the ground.
Now there are on board several ropes of that length, and, with a little pluck we might slip down them --"
"Yes," said Evans. "If the case is desperate I don't mind --"
"Nor I. During the night there's no one about except the man at the wheel.
And if we can drop one of the ropes forward without being seen or heard --"
"Good! I am glad to see you are so cool; that means business.
But just now we are over the Caspian. There are several ships in sight.
The "Albatross" is going down to fish. Cannot we do something now?"
"Sh!
They are watching us much more than you think," said Uncle Prudent. "You saw that when we tried to jump into the Hydaspes."
"And who knows that they don't watch us at night?" asked Evans.
"Well, we must end this; we must finish with this "Albatross" and her master."
It will he seen how in the excitement of their anger the colleagues-- Uncle Prudent in particular--were prepared to attempt the most hazardous things.
The sense of their powerlessness, the ironical disdain with which Robur treated them, the brutal remarks he indulged in--all contributed towards intensifying the aggravation which daily grew more manifest.
This very day something occurred which gave rise to another most regrettable altercation between Robur and his guests. This was provoked by Frycollin, who, finding himself above the boundless sea, was seized with another fit of terror.
Like a child, like the Negro he was, he gave himself over to groaning and protesting and crying, and writhing in a thousand contortions and grimaces.