Rob said nothing, but with burning eyes clung to the wheel and shot the Flying Fish straight ahead on her course.
As they thundered past the hydroplane, the slender craft lay almost motionless on the water, with a great cloud of blue smoke tumbling out of her exhausts.
"Looks like they've flooded her cylinder," said Merritt, observing these signs.
"Kr-ee-ee-ee-ee!"
It was Tubby giving utterance triumphantly to the Eagle scream.
Jack Curtiss straightened up angrily as he heard, his face black and greasy from his researches into the engine. He shook a menacing fist at the others as they tore by. The next minute, however, a quick look back by Rob showed that the hydroplane was coming ahead again, and that the engine trouble, whatever it was, had been adjusted.
As they neared the turning point, Rob saw, to his dismay, that the hydroplane was creeping up faster and faster. It was the last lap, and if Sam Redding's boat passed them at the stake the race was as good as over.
"Come on, Flying Fish! Come on!" shouted Rob, as the hydroplane crept ever nearer and nearer to his boat's stern.
Rob noticed, as he swung a trifle wide of the stake raft, that it seemed to be the intention of Jack Curtiss, who was at the wheel, to swing the hydroplane round the sharp angle of the course inside of the Flying Fish. Guessing that this would mean disaster to her ill-advised occupants, he waved his hand at them to keep out.
"When we need your advice we'll send for it. This is the time we've got you!" yelled Jack Curtiss, bending low over his wheel, as he grazed by the Flying Fish's stern to take the inside course.