“Give Williamson two or three minutes more,” begged Hal. “You might tell
Eph, though, to repeat, and repeat, the signal for top speed. That’ll show
Williamson we’re losing.”

Jack Benson walked to the conning tower, instructing Eph Somers in a low
tone.

“I’ve signaled twice, since the first time,” Eph replied. “But here goes
some more.”

“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—”