“Oh, I’ll be all right. Just you lie down now and I’ll wake you in a couple of hours. I guess we’ll have to hold down this job for some time and we might as well go at it scientifically,” was Jack’s rejoinder.
Five minutes later Tom’s snoring was keeping time with the rhythmic pulsing of the engine as the Valkyrie battled with the storm.
CHAPTER VIII.
“THIS IS THE FINISH.”
As Jack had prophesied, they did have to “hold down the job for some time.” In fact, dating from the morning on which Medway escorted them to the engine-room of the Valkyrie, the two boys entered on what was perhaps the strangest period of their lives in many respects. Virtually prisoners, they yet found a certain pleasure in oiling, running and ministering to the big engine. Their innate love of machinery found full play during the following days and nights.
The gale blew itself out after two days, but they still were kept at their posts. Medway had ordered two cots provided for them, and their meals were served below. On trying to reach the deck for a breath of air, after a long vigil at the engine, Jack found that the engine-room was well guarded. At the door was stationed a husky sailor who roughly told the boy to “get back where he belonged.” He had no choice but to obey.
In this way the days went by, the boys taking watch and watch, four hours on and four off. Medway or Hemming visited them regularly, but made no comments, nor did they vouchsafe any information as to the whereabouts of the yacht. Had the boys only known how the other prisoners were faring, and what was ultimately to become of them all, they might have been almost happy in their jobs as young engineers. But as things were, their constant anxiety on these scores outweighed any pleasure they found in running the machinery of the yacht.
Judkins evidently was still confined to his bunk. At least he did not put in an appearance. And so, day after day went by and the yacht forged steadily on, and the boys, working in the engine-room, had no means of knowing her course or destination; for, unlike some craft, the Valkyrie carried no “tell-tale” compass in her engine-room.
Thus two weeks passed. Two weeks of absolute calm, so far as the boys could judge, during which the yacht was forced forward at her full speed capacity, which was eighteen knots. It was one day toward the end of Jack’s watch when the thing happened which was to lead them all into the jaws of disaster.
During the time that he had been on duty the boy had noticed that the engine kept slowing down. Impatient janglings from the pilot house he met as best he could with more steam. But at length even this resource failed. It was plain enough that the Valkyrie was losing speed rapidly.