"Flemming is taking the carburettor down, sir," replied Roche. "I'll give him a hand. It will be a twenty minutes' job at the least."
During the time repairs were being effected, the Rosalie made slow progress. She was under-canvassed, and, owing to her light draught, made leeway like a crab.
The while Roche and Flemming toiled in the hot engine-room, taking down pipes, cleaning gauzes and clearing jets. They also removed the sparking-plugs, washed them in petrol, and rubbed the points with emery cloth.
Almost to a second on the expiration of the twenty minutes the starboard motor was restarted, and upon the clutch being engaged in the ahead position the Rosalie increased her speed to six knots.
"That's better," ejaculated the Scoutmaster fervently. "We stand a chance of getting into Dover before dark after all. We'll have to lie aground to get that propeller cleared. That's six or seven hours' delay."
"Rough luck, sir," commented Hepburn. "Wonder who our Jonah is?"
"Bruin, more than likely," replied Warkworth. "That's why he was slung overboard."