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The second mate heard him, and lifting his head as one grieving



amongst ruins, "You won't see it break," he exclaimed. His

wrists and his knees could be seen to shake violently. "No, by



God! You won't. . . ."

He took his face again between his fists.



The body of the helmsman had moved slightly, but his head didn't

budge on his neck, -- like a stone head fixed to look one way



from a column. During a roll that all but took his booted legs

from under him, and in the very stagger to save himself, Captain



MacWhirr said austerely, "Don't you pay any attention to what

that man says." And then, with an indefinable change of tone,



very grave, he added, "He isn't on duty."

The sailor said nothing.



The hurricane boomed, shaking the little place, which seemed

air-tight; and the light of the binnacle flickered all the time.



"You haven't been relieved," Captain MacWhirr went on, looking

down. "I want you to stick to the helm, though, as long as you



can. You've got the hang of her. Another man coming here might

make a mess of it. Wouldn't do. No child's play. And the hands



are probably busy with a job down below. . . . Think you can?"

The steering-gear leaped into an abrupt short clatter, stopped



smouldering like an ember; and the still man, with a motionless

gaze, burst out, as if all the passion in him had gone into his



lips: "By Heavens, sir! I can steer for ever if nobody talks to

me."



"Oh! aye! All right. . . ." The Captain lifted his eyes for the

first time to the man, ". . . Hackett."



And he seemed to dismiss this matter from his mind. He stooped to

the engine-room speaking-tube, blew in, and bent his head. Mr.



Rout below answered, and at once Captain MacWhirr put his lips to

the mouthpiece.



With the uproar of the gale around him he appliedalternately his

lips and his ear, and the engineer's voice mounted to him, harsh



and as if out of the heat of an engagement. One of the stokers

was disabled, the others had given in, the second engineer and



the donkey-man were firing-up. The third engineer was standing

by the steam-valve. The engines were being tended by hand. How



was it above?

"Bad enough. It mostly rests with you," said Captain MacWhirr.



Was the mate down there yet? No? Well, he would be presently.

Would Mr. Rout let him talk through the speaking-tube? -- through



the deck speaking-tube, because he -- the Captain -- was going

out again on the bridge directly. There was some trouble amongst



the Chinamen. They were fighting, it seemed. Couldn't allow

fighting anyhow. . . .



Mr. Rout had gone away, and Captain MacWhirr could feel against

his ear the pulsation of the engines, like the beat of the ship's



heart. Mr. Rout's voice down there shouted something distantly.

The ship pitched headlong, the pulsation leaped with a hissing



tumult, and stopped dead. Captain MacWhirr's face was impassive,

and his eyes were fixed aimlessly on the crouching shape of the



second mate. Again Mr. Rout's voice cried out in the depths, and

the pulsating beats recommenced, with slow strokes -- growing



swifter.

Mr. Rout had returned to the tube. "It don't matter much what



they do," he said, hastily; and then, with irritation, "She takes

these dives as if she never meant to come up again."



"Awful sea," said the Captain's voice from above.

"Don't let me drive her under," barked Solomon Rout up the pipe.



"Dark and rain. Can't see what's coming," uttered the voice.

"Must -- keep -- her -- moving -- enough to steer -- and chance



it," it went on to state distinctly.

"I am doing as much as I dare."



"We are -- getting -- smashed up -- a good deal up here,"

proceeded the voice mildly. "Doing -- fairly well -- though. Of



course, if the wheelhouse should go. . . ."

Mr. Rout, bending an attentive ear, muttered peevishly something



under his breath.

But the deliberate voice up there became animated to ask: "Jukes



turned up yet?" Then, after a short wait, "I wish he would bear

a hand. I want him to be done and come up here in case of



anything. To look after the ship. I am all alone. The second

mate's lost. . . ."



"What?" shouted Mr. Rout into the engine-room, taking his head

away. Then up the tube he cried, "Gone overboard?" and clapped



his ear to.




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