Just then, a dull hissing was heard above the noise of the elements. The steam was escaping violently, not by the funnel, but from the safety-valves of the boiler; the alarm whistle sounded unnaturally loud, and the yacht made a frightful pitch, overturning Wilson, who was at the wheel, by an unexpected blow from the tiller. The DUNCAN no longer obeyed the helm.
“What is the matter?” cried the captain, rushing on the bridge.
“The ship is heeling over on her side,” replied Wilson.
“The engine! the engine!” shouted the engineer.
Away rushed John to the engine-room. A cloud of steam filled the room. The pistons were motionless in their cylinders, and they were apparently powerless, and the engine-driver, fearing for his boilers, was letting off the steam.
“What’s wrong?” asked the captain.
“The propeller is bent or entangled,” was the reply. “It’s not acting at all.”
“Can’t you extricate it?”
“It is impossible.”
An accident like this could not be remedied, and John’s only resource was to fall back on his sails, and seek to make an auxiliary of his most powerful enemy, the wind. He went up again on deck, and after explaining in a few words to Lord Glenarvan how things stood, begged him to retire to his cabin, with the rest of the passengers. But Glenarvan wished to remain above.