“How about the carburettor?” asked Bob, referring to the apparatus where the gasolene is mixed with air so it will explode in the cylinders.
“I don’t want to monkey with that,” Jerry replied. “It never has given any trouble, and I’m afraid to take it apart now.”
Just then the Dartaway gave a violent lurch to one side, and the boys, who were stooping down, were nearly thrown off their balance.
“Did we hit something?” called Jerry.
“No, a wave hit us,” Sam replied. “Can’t you get the engine fixed?”
“Doesn’t seem so.”
“Then I’ve got to do something. She won’t answer the rudder any more, and is getting down in the hollows.”
“What can you do?”
“I’ll show you. I haven’t been to sea forty years for nothing, sonny. I’ll do the same thing I did when I was shipwrecked in the Indian Ocean once, and had to live three days on a raft.”
Sam did not waste any more time in words. He came from the bow, since it was no longer any use to try to steer the Dartaway, and made his way astern. With him he brought the tub in which the whale line had been coiled.