It will he seen how in the excitement of their anger the colleagues--
Uncle Prudent in particular--were prepared to attempt the most
hazardous things. The sense of their powerlessness, the ironical
disdain with which Robur treated them, the brutal remarks he indulged
in--all contributed towards intensifying the aggravation which daily
grew more manifest.

This very day something occurred which gave rise to another most
regrettable altercation between Robur and his guests. This was
provoked by Frycollin, who, finding himself above the boundless sea,
was seized with another fit of terror. Like a child, like the Negro
he was, he gave himself over to groaning and protesting and crying,
and writhing in a thousand contortions and grimaces.

"I want to get out! I want to get out! I am not a bird! Boohoo! I
don't want to fly, I want to get out!"

Uncle Prudent, as may be imagined, did not attempt to quiet him. In
fact, he encouraged him, and particularly as the incessant howling
seemed to have a strangely irritating effect on Robur.

When Tom Turner and his companions were getting ready for fishing,
the engineer ordered them to shut up Frycollin in his cabin. But the
Negro never ceased his jumping about, and began to kick at the wall
and yell with redoubled power.

It was noon. The "Albatross" was only about fifteen or twenty feet
above the water. A few ships, terrified at the apparition, sought
safety in flight.