“I know it, Chunky,” said Jerry, still quietly. “We are doing all we can. Even if we do hit the water you know we still have the hydroplanes.”
“Oh, it isn’t a question of actually sinking,” called Ned, as he opened the gas valve to the limit. “We’d probably float safely enough, but we’re going down so fast that if we hit at this speed, we’ll be sure to rip the planes off, and do no end of other damage to our boat!”
“That’s the point,” agreed Jerry. “It’s only the speed at which we are falling that I’m afraid of. Ordinarily we could volplane down and take the water easily enough, but the jamming of that deflecting rudder came so suddenly that we couldn’t get in position to make a good descent.”
“We’re on a more even keel now,” observed Ned, as he looked at the indicating pendulum.
“Yes,” agreed Bob, “and we’re going slower, too. We’ve got three hundred feet more, Jerry.”
“Then we can do it, fellows! I guess we’re all right now. Is all the gas out, Ned?”
“About all, yes.”
“And just in time,” murmured the stout lad, his eyes again seeking the height indicator. “Two hundred feet is a pretty close call, as fast as we were falling. We’ve almost stopped now, Jerry.”
“That’s good. We won’t lose any time putting on a new kind of rudder, either. I’ve had it in mind a good while to change ours. I wish I hadn’t delayed so long.”
A moment later the motorship ceased her descent, and was floating on an even keel, a short distance above the rolling waves, blown gently along by the wind, for her propellers were not revolving.