The Lost Continent


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"
They've repaired the engines and the generators both," exclaimed one of the men.  
It seemed impossible, but yet it had evidently been done. Only that morning,  
Lieutenant Johnson had told me that he feared that it would be impossible to  
repair the generators. I had put him in charge of this work, since he always had  
been accounted one of the best gravitation-screen men in the navy. He had  
invented several of the improvements that are incorporated in the later models of  
these generators, and I am convinced that he knows more concerning both the  
theory and the practice of screening gravitation than any living Pan-American.  
At the sight of the Coldwater once more under control, the three men burst into a  
glad cheer. But, for some reason which I could not then account, I was strangely  
overcome by a premonition of personal misfortune. It was not that I now  
anticipated an early return to Pan-America and a board of inquiry, for I had  
rather looked forward to the fight that must follow my return. No, there was  
something else, something indefinable and vague that cast a strange gloom upon  
me as I saw my ship rising farther above the water and making straight in our  
direction.  
I was not long in ascertaining a possible explanation of my depression, for,  
though we were plainly visible from the bridge of the aero-submarine and to the  
hundreds of men who swarmed her deck, the ship passed directly above us, not  
five hundred feet from the water, and sped directly westward.  
We all shouted, and I fired my pistol to attract their attention, though I knew full  
well that all who cared to had observed us, but the ship moved steadily away,  
growing smaller and smaller to our view until at last she passed completely out of  
sight.  
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