"I wonder what's going wrong with our engines, then," muttered Captain
Jack, uneasily.
"It ain't in careless steering, anyway," grumbled Eph. "I'm going as straight as a chalk line."
"I noticed that," Captain Jack admitted.
He continued to look worried, for, by this time, the "Pollard" was at least a good two hundred and fifty yards to the good in the lead.
"I'm afraid," muttered Hal, rejoining Benson, "that I'll simply have to go below."
"I'm afraid so," nodded Jack. "We simply can't afford to lose this or any other race to the 'Pollard.'"
"Williamson knows that fully as well as we do, though," Hal Hastings went on. "And Williamson—"
Of a sudden Hal stopped short. He half staggered, clutching at a rail, while his eyes stared and his lips twitched.
"Why—why—there's Williamson—aft on the deck!" muttered Hastings.
"What!"