"Nine o'clock," announced Mr. Gregory. "We'll be a bit late in getting back to our moorings, I fancy. But the glass is high and steady, and the air's warm. We'd better start that engine, or with the tide against us we'll be losing instead of gaining ground."
By the aid of an electric torch—for the engine-room under the water-tight cockpit was in darkness—Craddock turned on the petrol, adjusted the ignition and flooded the carburettor.
"All ready!" he shouted.
The starting-handle was in the cockpit with a chain drive to the crank-shaft passing through a raised hatch. At the word that all was in order the Patrol-leader gave the handle a vigorous swing.
It was well for him that he had grasped the handle properly and with due regard to "Safety First." That is to say, he kept his thumb underneath the handle and applied the grip by means of his fingers only.
The motor gave a terrific backfire, the handle flying off and narrowly missing Brandon's face. Fortunately it fell inboard.
"Be careful," cautioned Mr. Gregory.
"Never known her to do that before," declared the Patrol-leader. "Retard her still more, Peter."
"Can't," was the reply from below. "Mag's as far back as it will go."
Undaunted, Brandon made another attempt, with precisely the same result.