“Now I’ll turn on the gasoline and see if we can get any news,” proposed Joe. A few moments later he started the ignition apparatus and gave the drive wheel a few turns.
Chug! chug! the engine began slowly. Joe, oil can in hand, looked on with the attention of a scientist making an experiment. Bit by bit he increased the speed of the engine, smoothing the work with oil.
“Give us a little time and the old motor’ll mote,” observed Dawson quietly.
Had they been more of amateurs at the work they would have felt elated, for the engine responded to all increased speeds that were tried. But these two had worked enough about motors to know that such an engine may come to a creaking stop when everything appears to be running at the best.
Chug! chug! It was a cheery sound as the minutes went by and the motor did better and better.
“I’m almost hopeful that everything is in shape,” declared Dawson at last.
“Good morning, boys!” came a pleasant hail from the pier. “I see everything is in fine trim.”
“It looks that way, Mr. Dunstan,” answered Tom, stepping up above and, by way of salute, bringing his hand to the visor of the Club’s uniform cap that he had donned this morning. “But motors are sometimes cranky. We don’t dare begin to brag just yet.”
“This morning’s mail brought me a letter from Mr. Prescott,” went on the owner, holding up an envelope. “He has written me seven pages about you. It seems that you are great pets of my friend’s. He tells me that I can place every confidence in you.”
“Why, that’s mighty nice of Mr. Prescott,” replied Tom quietly. He was greatly pleased, nevertheless, for he could now see that Mr. Dunstan’s opinion of them had gone up several notches.
“Well, well,” continued the owner, as he glanced smilingly down into the engine room; “are you going to cast off now and take me over to Nantucket? It’s four days since I’ve seen my home and that lucky little rascal, Ted.”
Tom didn’t know or inquire who Ted was or why that “rascal” was so very fortunate. Instead he replied:
“We were thinking of a little trial trip first, sir, just to see how the craft will behave under way.”
“Good enough,” nodded the owner. “But I’m aboard, so why can’t I go with you?”
Tom ran ashore to cast off while Joe did some last fussing over the motor. Having cast the stern-line aboard and coiled it, Tom now came forward, throwing off the bowline, boarding with it.