I managed to get in the dink without going overboard, and then held her there while Catty got in. Then we cast off. It seemed as if we were fifty feet away from the Porpoise in less time than it takes to tell about it.
“Wait a minute,” says Catty, “and we’ll start the engine just as soon as we’re out of earshot.”
Well, that was easier said than done. Neither of us knew much about gas engines, and we didn’t know a thing about this particular engine, and we didn’t dare make a light. We didn’t have anything to make a light with. We sort of nosed around to find the switch and then I cranked her. Nothing happened. I cranked some more, and then Catty cranked, and then I cranked, and then Catty cranked.
“Never saw such an engine,” says Catty.
“For me,” says I, “I’d a heap rather have oars. You don’t have to crank a rowboat.”
“There aren’t any oars,” says he.
“Wonder which way we’re drifting,” says I, “and I wonder what Mr. Browning is thinking.”
“Bet we catch it,” says Catty.
“We can’t drift out to sea, can we?”
“Not very handy,” says he. “We’d have to go through the long channel, and we’d be sure to run ashore before we did that. Wish this rain would stop. I’m wetter than a drowned rat.”