“Nothing but hope and pray for the best,” rejoined Jack. “We are helpless indeed without the rudder.”
Fortunately, however, the propeller still worked, and Tom, abandoning the now useless steering wheel, gave all his efforts to aiding Jack in attending to the engines.
The aerial screw helped to keep the Flying Road Racer on a straight course, and onward she flew, a disabled but still staunch craft.
“Is there anything that we can do to help you?” asked Professor Chadwick, after a while.
“Dere ain’t nuffin’ would help now but about a squar’ mile ob good dry lan’,” gloomily remarked Jupe.
Tom shook his head, and so did Jack.
“No, Father,” said the latter, “there isn’t a thing to be done. So long as we can keep the engine going, though, we can manage, at least, to keep before the wind.”
“We’re getting closer to the coast,” cried Mr. Jesson suddenly.
They were indeed. The forms of distant hills and forests could now be made out, and hope began to revive that they might, after all, find a spot to make a safe landing.
“The wind has shifted again,” announced Captain Andrews, glancing over Tom’s shoulder at the compass. “It’s blowing out of the east now, and if it holds will drive us upon the Mexican coast.”