"Well, I suppose we'd better head for home," said Tubby at length. "Those bluefish will go fine for supper."
"Spoken like a Tubby," laughed Merritt. "All right, I'll start up. Hullo—" he looked up with a puzzled face from the reverse lever. "I can't get her on the forward speed."
"What's the matter?" gasped Hiram.
"I don't know. Something's stuck. Shut off that engine, will you, Tubby, while I see?"
Tubby promptly shut down the motor, and Merritt struggled with the refractory lever. It was all in vain, however; he could not get it on the forward speed.
"I've got to investigate," puffed the perspiring corporal; "something must be wrong with the reversible propeller."
"Well, whatever you are going to do, hurry up about it," spoke Tubby, with unwonted sharpness in his tones.
"Why, what's the—" began Merritt.
Tubby checked him with a finger on his lips.
"Don't scare the kid," he whispered, leaning forward, "but we're in for a storm."