"No, Tom; there is no land out there."
"Then it must be a ship or a boat."
Uncle Prudent and Phil Evans, who were in the bow, looked in the direction pointed out by the mate.
Robur asked for the glass and attentively observed the object.
"It is a boat," said he, "and there are some men in it."
"Shipwrecked?" asked Tom.
"Yes! They have had to abandon their ship, and, knowing nothing of the nearest land, are perhaps dying of hunger and thirst!
Well, it shall not be said that the
"Albatross" did not come to their help!"
The orders were given, and the aeronef began to sink towards the sea.
At three hundred yards from it the descent was stopped, and the propellers drove ahead full speed towards the north.
It was a boat.
Her sail flapped against the mast as she rose and fell on the waves.
There was no wind, and she was making no progress. Doubtless there was no one on board with strength enough left to work the oars.
In the boat were five men asleep or helpless, if they were not dead.
The "Albatross" had arrived above them, and slowly descended.
On the boat's stern was the name of the ship to which she belonged--the "Jeannette" of Nantes.
"Hallo, there!" shouted Turner, loud enough for the men to hear, for the boat was only eighty feet below him.
There was no answer.
"Fire a gun!" said Robur.
The gun was fired and the report rang out over the sea.
One of the men looked up feebly. His eyes were haggard and his face was that of a skeleton.
As he caught sight of the "Albatross" he made a gesture as of fear.
"Don't be afraid," said Robur in French, "we have come to help you.
Who are you?"
"We belong to the barque "Jeannette," and I am the mate. We left her a fortnight ago as she was sinking.
We have no water and no food."
The four other men had now sat up.
Wan and exhausted, in a terrible state of emaciation, they lifted their hands towards the "Albatross."
"Look-out!" shouted Robur.
A line was let down, and a pail of fresh water was lowered into the boat.
The men snatched at it and drank it with an eagerness awful to see.
"Bread, bread!" they exclaimed.
Immediately a basket with some food and five pints of coffee descended towards them.
The mate with difficulty restrained them in their ravenousness.
"Where are we?" asked the mate at last.
"Fifty miles from the Chili coast and the Chonos Archipelago," answered Robur.
"Thanks.
But we are becalmed, and--?"
"We are going to tow you."
"Who are you?"
"People who are glad to be of assistance to you," said Robur.
The mate understood that the incognito was to be respected.
But had the flying machine sufficient power to tow them through the water?
Yes; and the boat, attached to a hundred feet of rope, began to move off towards the east.
At ten o'clock at night the land was sighted-- or rather they could see the lights which indicated its position.
This rescue from the sky had come just in time for the survivors of the "Jeannette," and they had good reason to believe it miraculous.
When they had been taken to the mouth of the channel leading among the Chonos Islands, Robur shouted to them to cast off the tow-line. This, with many a blessing to those who had saved them, they did, and the "Albatross" headed out to the offing.
Certainly there was some good in this aeronef, which could thus help those who were lost at sea!
What balloon, perfect as it might be, would be able to perform such a service?