He showed his worried face at the hatchway, adding:
“The tank’s empty! The last drops of gasoline are running into the motor!”
“What’s that?” demanded Tom aghast. “How could that have happened?”
“I don’t know,” was Joe’s bewildered response. “The tank was half-full when we got back from Wood’s Hole early this morning. But now it’s empty. Look for yourself.”
The propeller shaft made a few faint turns, then stopped. Having little headway by this time the “Meteor” soon began to drift aimlessly over the rolling waters.
“I don’t need to look,” Tom answered, dropping his hand from the wheel “I can see enough to believe you, Joe. But how on earth could this have happened, Joe?”
“It didn’t happen without some one tampering with the tank,” Joe exploded resentfully. “There’s no leak in the tank. We should, by rights, have oil enough to run to New York and back.”
There being nothing now that he could do in the engine room, Dawson stepped moodily up on deck. The girls watched Captain Tom’s face. Mrs. Lester, her curiosity aroused by the stopping of speed, attempted to come forward along the deck. The rolling of the craft made this so dangerous for her that Jed sprang forward, piloting her safely forward. There the situation was soon made plain to the frightened mother.
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Tom asked, the glass to his eyes, as he looked over the rolling waters. “Had our gasoline held out we could have made the pier with time to spare.”