“Lively, boys!” yelled Jerry. “You and Bob cast off the mooring ropes, Ned, and I’ll start the motor. Lucky she’s in shape to run.”
“We’ve got to open those other doors, Jerry!” Ned cried, pointing to those which were on the river side. They were big, double ones, swinging on hinges instead of raising up like a window sash.
“We’ll ram ’em!” Jerry shouted. “We haven’t time to try the axe on ’em!”
In fact, there was no axe to use, for the fireman, as soon as he had smashed open the shore doors for the boys, had set off to join his comrades.
The Scud lay in the basin of the boathouse with her bow pointed outward, for she had been backed in after her final trial the evening before. And the basin was sufficiently long to enable her to get headway enough to gain considerable power.
“All ready?” cried Jerry to his chums, as he bent over the motor.
“All ready,” answered Ned. “Let her go.”
Jerry thrust over the switch of the self-starter. There was a whine of the generator, and then came the hum and throb as the motor itself started.
“Here we go, boys! Be ready to duck!” Jerry yelled, as he pulled on the gear handle, and the motor meshed in the cogs of the propeller shaft. There was a boiling and bubbling under the stern, and the powerful craft surged forward.