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coming or not I think she ought to be put head on to that swell.

The old man is just gone in to lie down. Hang me if I don't speak



to him."

But when he opened the door of the chart-room he saw his captain



reading a book. Captain MacWhirr was not lying down: he was

standing up with one hand grasping the edge of the bookshelf and



the other holding open before his face a thick volume. The lamp

wriggled in the gimbals, the loosened books toppled from side to



side on the shelf, the long barometer swung in jerky circles, the

table altered its slant every moment. In the midst of all this



stir and movement Captain MacWhirr, holding on, showed his eyes

above the upper edge, and asked, "What's the matter?"



"Swell getting worse, sir."

"Noticed that in here," muttered Captain MacWhirr. "Anything



wrong?"

Jukes, inwardly disconcerted by the seriousness of the eyes



looking at him over the top of the book, produced an embarrassed

grin.



"Rolling like old boots," he said, sheepishly.

"Aye! Very heavy -- very heavy. What do you want?"



At this Jukes lost his footing and began to flounder. "I was

thinking of our passengers," he said, in the manner of a man



clutching at a straw.

"Passengers?" wondered the Captain, gravely. "What passengers?"



"Why, the Chinamen, sir," explained Jukes, very sick of this

conversation.



"The Chinamen! Why don't you speak plainly? Couldn't tell what

you meant. Never heard a lot of coolies spoken of as passengers



before. Passengers, indeed! What's come to you?"

Captain MacWhirr, closing the book on his forefinger, lowered his



arm and looked completely mystified. "Why are you thinking of the

Chinamen, Mr. Jukes?" he inquired.



Jukes took a plunge, like a man driven to it. "She's rolling her

decks full of water, sir. Thought you might put her head on



perhaps -- for a while. Till this goes down a bit -- very soon,

I dare say. Head to the eastward. I never knew a ship roll like



this."

He held on in the doorway, and Captain MacWhirr, feeling his grip



on the shelf inadequate, made up his mind to let go in a hurry,

and fell heavily on the couch.



"Head to the eastward?" he said, struggling to sit up. "That's

more than four points off her course."



"Yes, sir. Fifty degrees. . . . Would just bring her head far

enough round to meet this. . . ."



Captain MacWhirr was now sitting up. He had not dropped the

book, and he had not lost his place.



"To the eastward?" he repeated, with dawning astonishment. "To

the . . . Where do you think we are bound to? You want me to



haul a full-powered steamship four points off her course to make

the Chinamen comfortable! Now, I've heard more than enough of



mad things done in the world -- but this. . . . If I didn't know

you, Jukes, I would think you were in liquor. Steer four points



off. . . . And what afterwards? Steer four points over the

other way, I suppose, to make the course good. What put it into



your head that I would start to tack a steamer as if she were a

sailing-ship?"



"Jolly good thing she isn't," threw in Jukes, with bitter

readiness. "She would have rolled every blessed stick out of her



this afternoon."

"Aye! And you just would have had to stand and see them go,"



said Captain MacWhirr, showing a certain animation. "It's a dead

calm, isn't it?"



"It is, sir. But there's something out of the common coming, for

sure."



"Maybe. I suppose you have a notion I should be getting out of

the way of that dirt," said Captain MacWhirr, speaking with the



utmost simplicity of manner and tone, and fixing the oilcloth on

the floor with a heavy stare. Thus he noticed neither Jukes'



discomfiture nor the mixture of vexation and astonished respect

on his face.



"Now, here's this book," he continued with deliberation, slapping

his thigh with the closed volume. "I've been reading the chapter






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