Baris shifted a hand, the engines rose a note, and the copter lifted.

The driving engine rose from a distant whine to a dull, steady rumbling not much louder than the background hum of a stopped-down harmonium.

Briefly the engines rose to a crescendo and then the sound cut out.

The cruiser's engine rose to a supercharged scream, digging through another power turn.

The three remaining engines died and the great dark shadow below quickly rose and converged upon the falling fuselage.

For a moment the dozer's engine rose in an almost human squeal of rage and pain.

The engine rose in whiny protest, spluttered and died.

The engines rose to a deafening, agonized, ululating bellow each time McWatt changed direction.

Its engines rose to a clanking, roaring din.

The Dug's distinctive X-shaped engines lifted and rose, maneuvering for position.