“London—the big London—or just the city?” inquired Captain Ned.
“Over London: that’s the message. The office wants to know if you’ll wait till it talks with the managing editor down at the marine office.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late,” answered Ned.
“Two twelve,” exclaimed Alan, whose watch had not been out of his hand since two o’clock.
“It’s too late,” repeated Ned. “Tell your folks everything stands as it was. We’ll put it over. Are you all ready, Mr. Engineer?” went on Ned. Bob’s eyes snapped.
“All ready, sir.”
“Start your engines.”
As if an electric button had been pressed, first one and then the other big turbine began moving. With neither jar nor noise the circular engines spun faster and faster until the ceaseless, muffled explosions fell into a soft, continuous purr of power. For a few seconds Ned stood at the engine door. Then, with a slight wave of the hand to those standing almost breathless on the ground below, Captain Napier walked forward until he was beneath the open door of the pilot room above.
“Are you ready, Mr. Hope?”
“Two, twelve, twenty-eight,” came from the pilot house.