“We’ve got to do something, that’s evident,” responded the tall lad, as a sudden burst of the storm once more nearly made the Comet turn turtle. “We’ve got to get out of this.”
Jerry went to the engine-room, and called to Bob and Ned to accompany him. He began adjusting the machinery.
“What are you going to do?” asked Ned.
“Key up the motor,” explained the tall lad. “We’ve got to try and beat this wind, and the only way we can do it is to get up all the speed possible, and cut down through the air. Bob, hand me that monkey-wrench. Ned, you tighten up the intake valves, and open the outlets on the port cylinders. I’ll set the electric generator to give a hotter spark and one at shorter intervals. We’ve got to go down!”
The need was increasing every moment, for the hurricane, instead of dying out, was getting worse every second.
Soon the motor was working at twice its former speed. The great propellers could be observed whirling around with terrific power. Now, if ever, the Comet should go down. Anxiously they watched the needle of the barograph. It remained stationary for a few minutes, during which the craft trembled from end to end with the awful strain. Then the pointer swung slowly around.
“There she goes!” cried Ned in delight.
“Yes, we’re going down,” observed Jerry, with a sigh of relief.
“And none too soon,” added Bob, as another gust sent the motorship on end.