“Here comes some one!” cried Mr. Potter, as a figure staggered toward them. “I hope Grace hasn’t come up.”
“It’s the second engineer!” cried the captain, for the Elizabeth, though comparatively a small boat, carried a full crew. “What is it?” cried the commander.
“The port motor has gone out of commission, sir,” was the reply. “We’ll have to limp along at half speed.”
“All right. Do the best you can. Any chance of repairing it, Murdock?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t stop to look.”
“Very well. Get below, and fix it up if you can. We’ll need all the power we can raise in this blow!”
Hardly had the captain spoken than there came a fiercer gust than any that had preceded, and the Elizabeth fairly heeled over in the grip of the storm.
“We’ve got our work cut out for us!” cried Mr. Potter. “Let’s get below, Larry; Grace and Mrs. Androletti may be frightened.”
“All right,” answered the young reporter, as he cast a look off into the blackness, broken only by the white foam-capped waves. He wondered where the kidnappers’ vessel was, and what the stolen boy was doing at that moment.