The dragging anchor retarded the bow of the boat somewhat. It was the stern that seemed about to strike the reef. While Joe worked like lightning in the engine room Tom stood with both hands resting on the wheel. He dreaded, every instant, to feel the bump and the jar that should tell the news that the “Meteor” had struck.
“What do you want? Speed ahead?” bawled up Joe.
“As quickly as you can possibly give it,” Tom answered.
Still Halstead stared astern. It seemed as though the reef were rising to meet the hull of the boat.
Throb! Chug! The motor was working, slowly. With an inward gasp of thanksgiving Halstead swung the bow around a bit to port. The engine, weaker than the gale, must drag the anchor at least a short distance. Any attempt to raise it too soon might hold the boat to the danger line.
But Tom felt a sudden glow of happiness. The “Meteor” was forging slowly ahead. She would soon be safe, if the engine remained staunch. There was fearfully little oil in the tank, and he knew that the delivery of gas to the ignition apparatus must be very slight.
Out of the engine room came Joe in a hurry, signaling to Jed to follow him. The two crawled out, over that wet, slippery forward deck of the rolling, pitching boat, and managed to empty a second can into the tank. The engine was working better by the time that the pair regained the bridge deck.
“That’s enough to get us out of all trouble,” shouted Joe briefly. “We needn’t bother about the third one aft until we’re well out of this.”
Captain Tom, watching the reef that they were slowly leaving behind, soon decided that it was time to haul in the anchor that had held. Joe and Jed accomplished this. The instant that the drag was clear of the bottom the “Meteor” shot ahead.
“Hurrah!” yelled all three of the young seamen, when that new start came.