I looked around quickly. It was the radioman.
There was a faint surprise in the back of my mind until I remembered the recorder was now broadcasting the call for help.
"We'll stay if you want us, sir," he said tensely.
"This isn't for God and country, sailor! This is for money.
Get goin'!" I looked over at Amos, who was still in his seat. "You, too, Amos!"
He didn't answer. Just pulled off his safety belt and got out of his seat.
I heard the cabin door behind me open as they went through to the emergency door in the passenger compartment.
The altimeter read thirty-eight hundred and I killed the one and six engines.
Maybe I could set her down on the water if the two remaining engines could hold out on the fuel that would be diverted from the others.
We were at thirty-four hundred when the red light for the emergency door flashed on as it opened.
I cast a quick look back out the window. Three parachutes opened, one after the other, in rapid succession.
I looked at the board. Twenty-eight hundred.
I heard a noise behind me and looked around.
It was Amos, getting back into his seat.
"I told you to get out!" I yelled.
He reached for the wheel.
"The kids are off and safe.
I figure between the two of us, we got a chance to put her down on top of the water."
"Suppose we don't?" I yelled angrily.
"We won't be missing much. We ain't got as much time to lose as they have.
Besides, this baby cost a lot of dough!"
"So what?" I yelled. "It's not your money!"
There was a curiously disapproving look on his face.
"Money isn't the only thing put into this plane.
I built her!"
We were at nine hundred feet when number three began to conk out.
We threw our weight against the wheel to compensate for the starboard drag.
At two hundred feet, the number-three engine went out and we heeled over to the starboard.
"Cut the engines!" Amos yelled. "We're going to crash!"
I flipped the switch just as the starboard wing bit into the water.
It snapped off clean as a matchstick and the plane slammed into the water like a pile driver.
I felt the seat belt tear into my guts until I almost screamed with the pressure, then suddenly it eased off.
My eyes cleared and I looked out.
We were drifting on top of the water uneasily, one wing pointing to the sky.
Water was already trickling into the cabin under our feet.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Amos yelled, moving toward the cabin door, which had snapped shut.
He turned the knob and pushed. Then he threw himself against it.
The door didn't move.
"It's jammed!" he yelled, turning to me.
I stared at him and then jumped for the pilot's emergency hatch over our heads.
I pulled the hatch lock with one hand and pushed at the hatch with the other.
Nothing happened.
I looked up and saw why. The frame had buckled, locking it in.
Nothing short of dynamite would open it.
Amos didn't wait for me to tell him.
He pulled a wrench from the emergency tool kit and smashed at the glass until there was only a jagged frame left in the big port.
He dropped the wrench, picked up the Mae West and threw it at me.
I slipped into it quickly, making sure the automatic valve was set so it would work the minute I hit the water.
"O.K.," he said. "Out you go!"
I grinned at him.