TWENTY FATHOMS DOWN
chuckle-head, and sop up your coffee and leave the lad be."
"Out o' my way, Terry!" The cook thrust a cup of coffee into Nelson's hand and added sugar. "Kid," he said, "you won the long-distance rough-and-tumble record last night, all right! One of you fellows tell the luff the boy's awake. He wants to speak to him."
"Ay, ay, Cookie! Cut some more bread while I'm gone, will you?" One of the men arose and disappeared through the after door. Nelson propped himself on an elbow and stirred his coffee.
"The storm's all over, isn't it?" he asked.
"Is it, then?" said the cook. "You wouldn't think so if you was up above. It was blowin' about seventy when we left."
"Left? Oh, you mean that you've submerged?"
"You bet you! We've been down nearly four hours now. I've seen a few rough nights in my short but eventful life, kid, but last night had 'em all beat! We was shufflin' around here like dice in a box. How you ever lived in the water is what gets me!"
"How far down are we? Are we sitting on the bottom?"
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