"Watch out for your hat," Bronson admonished.
Gregory moved his hand carelessly to his head and caught his hat just in time. With an angry roar the Richard shot forward, raising her great hood higher and higher in air while the hull seemed scarcely to be in the water at all. The wind blew in their faces like a hurricane carrying with it great clouds of spray which drenched their skins and blinded Gregory's eyes. Gasping for breath, he noticed that the Richard was climbing higher. Then Bronson opened the cut-out and the craft sped away like an angry sea-bird.
The roar of the exhaust was deafening and Gregory was obliged to shout to the man beside him before he was able to make himself heard.
"Is she wide open?" he shrieked.
Bronson directed his gaze to the position of the throttle device and Gregory saw with a gasp of astonishment that the throttle was only half open.
On they sped, the hull rising from the water and
hurling itself along the crest of the waves, tossing them to the sides in great clouds of whirling, blinding spray. Could it be possible that the propeller was still in the water?
Suddenly he felt the Richard collapse and drop sullenly into the sea. The "machine-guns" had ceased firing and Bronson was regarding him with a smile. The boatman's face was crusted with salt and his eyes were twinkling.
"How about it?" he asked. "Do you think Barrows made any mistake?"
When Gregory recovered his breath, he observed: "Yes. I wanted a motor-boat. Not an aeroplane."