A number who had been knocking out the last holding-pins of the last shackles that bound it to its cradle, had fallen to earth, their sledge-hammers near at hand.
In the pilot-house, a figure had collapsed across the sill of an observation window.

And the engines, purring softly, told that all had been in readiness for the throwing-in of the clutches that would have set the vast propellers spinning with roaring speed.
"Yes, they were certainly just on the dot of getting away," said the Master, nodding as he glanced at his watch.

"This couldn't be better.
Gas, oil, stores, everything ready.

What more proof do you require, my dear Bohannan, of the value of exact coordination ?" The major could only answer: "Yes, yes--" He seemed quite amazed by this extraordinary mechanism--gigantic, weird, unreal in the garish electric lights.

Rrisa was frankly staring, for once shaken out of his fatalistic Mussulman tranquillity.
As for Captain Alden, he stood there a compact, small figure in his long coat with the rucksack strapped to his shoulders, peering up with the eye of the connoisseur.