eyes than lanterns, and time after time—the watcher would tire of counting—the ship's nose reared to the sky, then swung down into the maelstrom, not sliding gently but plunging desperately, as a wounded and frantic steed with legions of others at her heels, onrushing to beat her under.
So the night wore on.
At dawn, or the hour that should have seen dawn, Ben. scenting trouble again, visited the engine-room.
"How's she holding, Sandy?" he asked the grizzled Scot who was watching the little auxiliary engine as a mother a dying child.
"Ay, she'll pull through, sir, wi' care, though I might gae sae far," he qualified with characteristic canniness, "as to wish I had the auld engine on the Cameronia, noo. These mickle toys are no o' much account."
"You're right. It's only good in a calm, or to save tug hire in a harbour, but it's the only liftin' propeller that ever buzzed out of Salthaven, so the captain's stuck on it like a kid with a tin machine."
As he spoke, the unsteady floor on which they stood rose up at a perilous angle. The engineer slipped, his hand falling from the throttle. Deep within the hull as they were, they could feel the screw under her stern rising clear of water with the plunge, only to spin futilely in the air. The little engine, now uncontrolled, wheezed and thrashed as though it would be racked to pieces. Ben flew to the throttle, while Scotty steadied himself, then resumed the careful operation of opening and shutting it with the interminable fall and rise.
"The big boys are out, the nicht," he said to Ben as they
