Roche immediately made his way to the engine-room. The clutch had not slipped, and the engine was still running in neutral, but the sight that met his eyes took him completely by surprise and filled him with dismay. The heavy flywheel was throwing up showers of water, and the engine-room looked as if one of the fountains of Trafalgar Square had suddenly been transplanted into the confined space. "I say, you fellows!" he shouted. "One of you come down here as sharp as you can. She's sprung a leak." CHAPTER XV All Hands to the Pumps Leaving the Tenderfoot at the helm, Flemming leapt into the well and thence into the engine-room. "It must have been that biff when the barge fouled us!" he exclaimed. "Look! the floor-boards are awash!" Eric went to the semi-rotary bilge-pump and began working the lever desperately. Meanwhile Rayburn had shouted for "Easy ahead." The moment Roche put the engine in gear the _Olivette_ "squatted", as she always did when under way; in other words, her bows rose and her stern dipped correspondingly. The result was that a lot of water that had found its way into the boat ran aft and the flywheel no longer gave an aquatic display, but subsequent examination found that the level of the bilge-water rose nearly six inches above the floor of the after-cabin. Flemming kept on pumping for nearly twenty minutes, but the semi-rotary failed to "suck air". It seemed positive that the pump was unable to cope with the inflow of water. "Where are we now?" he asked breathlessly. Roche passed the question on to Phil Rayburn. "Nearly there," replied the Tenderfoot. "It's slow work against the stream." "We'll have to beach her, I'm afraid," said Flemming. "No good doing that now," objected Roche; "she'd fill on the rising tide. Besides, if there's much of a bore here, she'd be damaged still more. You stand by here, old thing, and I'll give you a spell at the pump." "We're nearly there," announced the Tenderfoot. "Who's going to pick up the moorings?" Leaving Flemming at the reversing-lever, Roche "knocked off" pumping and went on deck. Boat-hook in hand, he waited to make a grasp at the mooring-buoy, to which was attached the water-logged planks and timbers of what had been a smart, serviceable dinghy. "I bet that kid makes a bog of it," soliloquized Roche, who knew from personal experience how easy it is to blunder in picking up moorings. But his fears were groundless. With a confidence inspired by previous success, Phil brought the _Olivette_ to a standstill within a couple of feet of the mooring-buoy. "Got it!" yelled Dick as he fished the cork float on board and took a turn round the bitts with the chain-bridle. "Finished with the engines," shouted the Tenderfoot. Flemming cut off the ignition. The motor clanked into a state of somnolence; then, having turned off the feed to the carburetter, Eric devoted his attention to the bilge-pump once more. Presently Roche came below.