Down between decks the engines of the "Hudson" were toiling hard to run the craft off out of the sand. Then the machinery stopped. An engineer officer came up from below. He and Mr. Mayhew walked to the stern, while a seaman, accompanying them, heaved the lead, reading the soundings.
"We're stuck good and fast," remarked the engineer officer. "We can't drive off out of that sand for the reason that the propellers are buried in the grit. They'll hardly turn at all, and, when they do, they only churn the sand without driving us off."
"Confound that ignoramus of a boy!" muttered Mr. Mayhew, walking slowly forward. It was no pleasant situation for the lieutenant commander. Having run his vessel ashore, he knew himself likely to be facing a naval board of inquiry.
Hal, finding that the shore boat was not wanted for the present, had rowed over to the "Farnum's" moorings. Now Jacob Farnum came alongside in the shore boat.
"May I speak with your watch officer?" he called.
"I am the commanding officer," Mr. Mayhew called down, in the cold, even, dulled voice of a man in trouble.
"I am Mr. Farnum, owner of the yard. May I come on board?"
"Be glad to have you," Lieutenant Commander Mayhew responded.
So Mr. Farnum went nimbly up over the side.
"May I ask what is the trouble here, sir?" asked the yard's owner.