hard engines to run. More depends on the engine itself than on the
engineer.”

“But look over there,” returned Captain Jack Benson. “You see the
’Pollard’ taking the wind out of our teeth, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Hal admitted, looking more puzzled.

“Do you think our engines are doing the top-notch of their best?” asked
Benson.

“Yes; for Williamson is a crackerjack machinist. He knows our engines as
well as any man alive could do.”

“Do you think it would do any good for you to go below, Hal?”

“I will, if you say so,” offered Hastings. “Yet there’s another side to
it.”

“What?”

“Williamson might get it into his head that I went below because I thought
he was making a muddle of the speed. As a matter of fact, he knows every
blessed thing I do about our motors, and Williamson is loyal to the core.”

“I know,” nodded Captain Jack. “I’d hate to hurt a fine fellow’s feelings.
Yet—confound it, I _do_ want to win this burst of speed. It means,
perhaps, the quick sale of this boat to the Navy. If we’re beaten it
means, to the Secretary of the Navy, that he already has our best boat,
and he might not see the need of buying the ’Farnum’ at all.”