Then, aided by Captain
Weston and Mr. Damon, the young inventor carried his father
to a couch in the main cabin. Mr. Sharp took charge of the
machinery.
Restoratives were applied, and there was a flutter of the
eyelids of the aged inventor.
"I think he'll come around all right," said the sailor
kindly, as he saw Tom's grief. "Fresh air will be the thing
for him. We'll be on the surface in a minute."
Up shot the Advance, while Mr. Sharp stood ready to open
the conning tower as soon as it should be out of water. Mr.
Swift seemed to be rapidly reviving. With a bound the
submarine, forced upward from the great depth, fairly shot
out of the water. There was a clanking sound as the aeronaut
opened the airtight door of the tower, and a breath of fresh
air came in.
"Can you walk, dad, or shall we carry you?" asked Tom
solitiously.
"Oh, I--I'm feeling better now," was the inventor's reply.
"I'll soon be all right when I get out on deck. My foot
slipped as I was adjusting a wire that had gotten out of
order, and I fell so that I received a large part of the
current. I'm glad I was not burned. Was Mr. Sharp hurt? I
saw him run to the switch, just before I lost
consciousness."
"No, I'm all right," answered the balloonist. "But allow
us to get you out to the fresh air.
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