Nautilus sensed he would be in a lot of trouble once the bartender found him –and even more once the farmer found the injured cow, so far from the farm. So, in a swift, but silly, decision Nautilus grabbed the closest thing to an ‘escape route’ that was next to him: the rocket propeller.
Strapping himself in, Nautilus prayed a small prayer to his Gods, whom he hoped would save him from the guilt of stealing. Nautilus wasn’t generally a religious man, (hence the fact he stole whatever he could, and did whatever he could to get himself out of the trouble he often got into), but at a time like this, where Nautilus wasn’t feeling too confident (and a little scared, he admitted) he needed as much faith on his side as he could gather. Nautilus was a very resourceful man.
Up in the air, everything whizzed past the man and his propellers, but soon he felt their power spluttering out. So much for the farmer’s consistency. Luckily, it seemed that Nautilus did have his Gods on side, as the scenery was slowing in his sight, and the ground was not more than too metres away before the ‘flying man’ dropped. But at the force of landing, Nautilus hit his head on the floor, and was knocked unconscious.
When he came round, Nautilus looked up and across his landing platform.
He appeared to have landed in a strange new land, filled with pink-leaved trees, a shiny red-paved road and the unusual scent of honey in the air.