Tom hesitated for a few moments. Then he said, setting his teeth—
“All right. It’s the only thing to do.”
He put both engines at full speed, and Schwab shouted with delight when he saw that the airship was gradually drawing away from the galloping Moors. But in ten minutes all three were aware of the ominous smell. Was it possible to reach the yacht, now clearly in view? Tom, alert to catch the slightest indication of failure on the part of the engines, hoped, doubted, hoped again, but was resolved to hold on to the last.
Then all were startled by a strange grinding sound in the defective engine.
“What is it?” asked Oliphant.
“It’s all up,” said Tom quietly. “The heat has loosened the turbine blades, and they are smashing to pieces.” Even as he spoke sheets of flame shot from the exhaust pipe, accompanied by a series of deafening reports.
Tom at once reduced speed, shouting to Oliphant to adjust the planes for descent.
“Zink! Zink vat you do!” cried Schwab, now almost frantic. “Zey vill have us! Ze Mohrs vill cut our zroats! Vy—vy—vy——”
Tom paid no heed; Oliphant muttered under his breath. They were sinking towards a ravine through which a watercourse ran to the sea. The engine, its parts grinding and tearing with a hideous scrunching sound, was shooting out flames, to the accompaniment of detonations like those of a Maxim gun. Another minute or two would witness a cataclysm; but Tom thought that if the farther side of the ravine could be reached, they might gain a little grace. The enemy would have some difficulty in crossing at speed.