"How boring." Gamay chewed thoughtfully on her breakfast bar. "Any idea where we are, Mr. Fisherman's Son?"
He shook his head. "I wish my dad were here. He learned how to navigate the old-fashioned way before we started to depend on electronic gear."
"What about the compass?"
"Not much use unless you've got landmarks or navigational buoys to go with it. That's obviously east." He pointed to the sun.
"The Dutchman's settlement was south and west of Ramirez," Gamay said. "What if we aimed this thing north east?"
Paul scratched his head. "That might work if we were sure we were still at the exact spot where we climbed into this rig. There was a breeze last night. I don't know how far it could have pushed us. Could make a big difference, and we've only got a limited amount of fuel left for the burners. Any decision will have to be the right one. The engine tanks are full, but it won't do much good to go forward if we lose altitude."
Gamay gazed over the ocean of green. "Sure is beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as three eggs over easy and bacon with home fries."
She handed him another granola bar. "Use your imagination."
"I am. I'm trying to imagine how they got this airship into the forest. They could have flown it in, but that's doubtful be cause this isn't big enough to carry all the supplies and spare fuel it would need. My guess is they launched it from the ground not far from where we found it."
"Since there are no roads," Gamay said, picking up the thread of logic, "they probably came in by water. If we found the river or tributary we could retrace our way back to Dr. Ramirez's camp. Perhaps if we went higher, we'd see more of the forest."
"Brilliant," he said, and goosed the throttle with his foot.
The burners responded with a throaty whisper, and after a pause the aircraft began to rise. As they ascended, the heat of the sun was beginning to burn off the mist. The tree canopy began to appear as ragged patches of green. Reddish flowers grew in patches on the treetops like coral reefs.
At three thousand feet Gamay squinted through the haze. "I see something over there."
Paul started the power plant and turned the steering wheel that controlled the cables running to the rudder until the airship came slowly about. With the water-cooled engine purring quietly, the airship gained speed slowly as it overcame its inertia, and before long the propeller was kicking them along at ten miles per hour. Gamay had found a pair of binoculars and was using them to scope out where they were going.
"Incredible," she said as the mists cleared.
"What do you see?"
Gamay was silent for a second. "The Hand of God," she said with quiet awe.
Paul hesitated. He hadn't slept much and was slow on the uptake. "The Great Falls the Dutchman talked about?"
Gamay nodded. "Even at this distance it's magnificent."
Paul tried to increase their speed. He sensed something peculiar about the controls. The airship seemed to be dragging. He peered down and saw a red triangular object dangling from lines attached to the gondola.
"Hello," he said. "We've got company."
Gamay lowered the binoculars and followed Paul's gaze. "It looks vaguely like a life raft. Made out of rubber tubing and mesh in the middle. They probably used it to drop people and supplies off on the tree canopy."
"Sounds like a reasonable explanation. We'll have to be careful it doesn't catch in the treetops." He lifted his head to check on their course. What he saw sent chills up his spine.
They were approaching a high headland that rose from the forest in the shape of a giant step. A river coursed from the forest toward the precipice of the plateau where rocky formations broke the flow into five waterfalls. With the sunlight sparkling off the white water the streams looked like gems being run through the fingers of a diamond merchant. The falls had the deceptive slow-motion look that water has when it plunges from a great height. A thick cloud of foglike condensation rose from the explosive force of thousands of gallons of water cascading into a lake directly below the steep-sided bluff.
Paul said, "Those falls make Niagara look like a herring~ brook."
'All that water has to have an outlet." Gamay scanned the perimeter of the lake. "Paul, over there! I can see the river. It's flowing out of the lake. All we have to do is follow it."
"Not unless you see a gas station, too," Trout said with a glance at the propane fuel gauge. The tank was practically on empty. "We're about to drop out of the sky."
"We can still move forward. Get us as close to the river as possible. We'll ditch this thing and use the raft."
Trout did a mental rundown of a water splashdown. The gondola's weight would pull it under the water. Residual air in the envelope might keep the gondola from going down immediately, but the hundreds of square feet of fabric would pose a hazard, trapping them in its folds. They should both be clear of the airship before it hit water and do their best to keep the raft in tact. It could be their ticket out of the forest.
Paul quickly outlined his analysis and plan. "I think we should cut the raft loose before we land. Otherwise we could lose it."
Gamay took another look over the side. Nine nylon lines, three at each corner, were attached to the dangling raft.
"There's a Swiss Army knife in the storage box," she said.
Paul tested the sharpness of the blade with his thumb and tucked the knife in the big pocket of his cargo shorts.
"You take us in," he said. "Get us as low to the water as you can. I'll cut the raft free."
"Then I bring this buggy to a hover and we abandon ship and go in for a swim," Gamay said.
"As easy as one-two-three," Paul said with a grin.
Gamay took over the steering wheel and put the airship into a slow turn away from the falls. Sunlight streaming through the mists that rose off the lake created multiple rainbows. Gamay hoped it was a good sign.
The gondola tilted from Paul's weight as he climbed out onto the right side of the framework. He looked down at the red tri angle swinging about thirty feet below and made his way to the rear of the gondola behind the tanks and burners. He sawed away at the lines attached to the rear left corner of the raft, then continued across the gondola's framework and repeated his work. Attached to the gondola only by its nose lines, the raft bobbed and twisted in the wind.
Using a light foot on the burner control, Gamay aimed for a spot near the river, bringing the airship down in a long, easy glide. She was starting to think that his crazy scheme might work. Her optimism vanished as the burner went ploof; then was silent. They had run out of fuel at an altitude of a thousand feet.
There was no immediate change in the airship's behavior. The heated air maintained the envelope's streamlined shape, and the propeller kept the craft at a shallow angle. The airship continued on its heading. At five hundred feet altitude the situation began to come apart at the seams. As the air cooled, lift was lost, and the angle of descent became steeper. Pressure inside the envelope diminished as well, and the front end developed a dent. The airship assumed the shape of a rotten tomato and swung to the left.
Paul was working a few feet directly in front of Gamay. He had severed two lines and was about to work on the third. He had become overconfident and had released his safety grip on the framework when the blimp swerved. Not expecting the sudden maneuver, he lost his balance and tumbled off. Gamay yelled helplessly.
The gondola was jerked violently and nosed down. Gamay leaned over and saw Paul clutching the line immediately above the dangling raft, which twisted violently, snapping back and
forth like a child's swing in the wind. The blimp's forward motion had slowed almost to a stop. She looked up at the envelope, which had become a formless blob, then back under the gondola. Paul was still hanging on. Trout didn't want to be under the blimp when it came down. He cut the line and plunged feet first into the water from a height of about fifty feet. As he came to the surface the raft hit the water with a great splash.