"The mag's all right," he announced, rubbing his tingling elbow. "Now, once more, Jasper, while I try the plug terminals."
Not the suspicion of a spark was obtainable with any of the four plugs. Burgoyne scratched his head in his perplexity.
"Faulty insulation, I believe," he hazarded.
"Perhaps the ignition-switch has to be up, not down," he said. "Sometimes they fit the wiring so that the current is 'shorted' and not broken by the switch. Now try."
The result surpassed expectations, for the engine back-fired, throwing the starting-handle violently against the roof and barking Minalto's knuckles into the bargain. But the motor was buzzing round with the precision of a steam-engine.
"Experientia docet!" exclaimed Peter, raising his voice above the din of the whirring machinery.
"Ay, ay, sir," agreed Minalto, wiping the back of his hand with a piece of cotton waste. "Experience does it. Does she kick every time we'm starting her like? Ef so my name's Johnny Walker this trip."
At length Mostyn decided that the initial trial was satisfactory. The ignition was cut off, and the engine clanked into a state of coma.
The midday meal over, the task of conveying the treasured relics of their stay on Swan Island from the cave to the schooner was begun. The provisions were shipped and the water-tanks replenished—the latter a tedious task, since it necessitated twenty journeys between the spring and the schooner By four o'clock in the afternoon, according to the schooner's chronometer, all was in readiness to heave up anchor and get under way.
"We'll be well clear of the reefs before sundown," said Burgoyne. "If we keep her under easy canvas all night and crack on during daylight, we ought to make a fairly good passage."