Now it chanced that among the cargo carried by the barque was a small
launch intended for the use of a plantation owner in South America.
Bill recollected it with peculiar vividness on account of the peculiar
shape of its propeller, which he could see through the crate that
surrounded it when it was hoisted on board. He had asked the
manufacturer's representative, who had superintended the loading of
the motorboat at Bath, why the wheel was shaped in such a queer way.
He recollected the answer now with joy, for he had conceived a daring
plan.

"Why, Mr. Mate," the manufacturer's representative had replied to his
query, "that's what we call a weedless wheel. That is, it is specially
designed for service in South American rivers of shallow draught where
an ordinary propeller would soon get entangled in the weeds and water
plants and stop. We guarantee this wheel to go through any tangle,
just as an eel would."

"To go through any tangle."

The words sang in Bill's brain.

Why couldn't he get out of the Sargasso seaweed tangle in the little
sixteen-foot craft?

"At least, it is better than waiting here for a horrible death," he
reasoned to himself.

After a hasty meal in the lonely galley, Bluewater Bill set to work to
uncrate the little launch. Fortunately for his purpose the Eleanor