“Get in!” cried Mr. Kennedy. “We’ll give those rascals a race, but I’m afraid we haven’t much chance. They have a good start, and their boat is faster than ours, but we’ll do the best we can.”
Eagerly Frank and Ned, not forgetting their rifles, jumped into the boat. A moment later they were off. The motor boat was of recent pattern, and contained a good engine. But the Portuguese who owned it did not know how to get the most speed out of the machine. He was rather surprised when Frank made some adjustments, changing the timer, and regulating the air intake valve of the carburetor.
At once the craft increased her speed.
“Say, you boys know something about boats, don’t you?” exclaimed the coffee man, while the Portuguese looked in wonder at our two heroes.
“Oh, we know a little,” admitted Ned, modestly.
“I wish I knew enough to make this into a hydroplane,” said Frank, as he peered eagerly toward the boat they were pursuing. “It’s about the only way we’ll be able to catch those rascals I’m afraid.”
“We’re pulling up on them a little,” declared Ned.
“Not enough, though,” his brother retorted, rather gloomily.
They were well out in the bay, which was unusually calm. Back in the city the last remnants of the revolutionary army—if such it could be called—were fleeing before the combined forces of American business men, their employees, the loyal citizens, and, finally, the blue-jackets from the Georgetown.
“I wonder what the lieutenant will say to us, running off from the squad this way?” remarked Ned, as he filled the almost empty oil cups.