“Come and relieve me at the wheel for a few moments, Jed,” he called. Then, in a twinkling, the young skipper was down in the engine room.
“Joe,” he whispered, breathlessly, to his chum, “the judge just informed me that, if anything went wrong with the engine, and we couldn’t make Nantucket before four o’clock, there would be no legal session of probate court.”
“Did he mean that for a hint?” queried Joe, his look becoming keen.
“I’ll leave that for you to figure out, chum.”
“Where are we, now?” was Dawson’s next question.
Halstead informed him.
“Say,” muttered Joe, “I wish you’d go up on deck and stay there a while. I want to attend to my work for a while.”
Tom went back up on deck, lounging near Jed, at the wheel. It wasn’t long before the speed slackened. Then, the boat slowed down to mere headway. Even this soon ceased.
“I’ll try not to hinder you long,” called up Joe, showing his face in the hatchway. “I think I can soon get the engine fixed.”
“Use all the speed you can, Joe, but do it well, whatever has to be done,” Tom answered. Then he made his way aft to report to Judge Swan that the engineer had said he hoped the motor would soon be in order again.