Bob dropped his sandwich and sprang to the fly wheel. He cranked it, praying silently that the explosion might come quickly.
Jerry had thrown the forward gear in, and turned on the gasolene and spark. There sounded a welcome “chug,” and an instant later the engine was working at rapid speed.
Jerry put the wheel over, and headed the boat away from the on-coming whale. The line, fast to the bow, swung over the stern, lengthwise of the craft, nearly carrying Ned overboard in the rapid change it made.
The Dartaway was off like an arrow from the bow, piling up a line of foam at the cut-water. The big wave at the back was nearer now. It was caused by the water gathering in front of the whale’s blunt, massive head.
“Can we get away?” cried Bob.
“We’ve got to try!” shouted Sam. “Put a little more speed on, skipper!”
The boat forged ahead faster than before. Sam stood up, peering aft to see if the whale gained. There was no doubt that the monster was nearer, in spite of the fast whirling propellor. For once the Dartaway had met her match in a speed contest.
“Can’t you get any more out of her?” called the sailor in an anxious voice.
“No,” said Jerry, his heart sinking.