A List To Starboard
by F. Hopkinson Smith
A short, square chunk of a man walked into a shipping office on the
East Side, and inquired for the Manager of the Line. He had kindly blue
eyes, a stub nose, and a mouth that shut to like a rat-trap, and stayed
shut. Under his chin hung a pair of half-moon whiskers which framed his
weather-beaten face as a spike collar frames a dog's.
You don't want to send this vessel to sea again, blurted out the
chunk. She ought to go to the dry-dock. Her boats haven't had a
brushful of paint for a year; her boilers are caked clear to her top
flues, and her pumps won't take care of her bilge water. Charter
something else and lay her up.
The Manager turned in his revolving chair and faced him. He was the
opposite of the Captain in weight, length, and thicknessa slim,
well-groomed, puffy-cheeked man of sixty with a pair of uncertain,
badly aimed eyes and a voice like the purr of a cat.
Oh, my dear Captain, you surely don't mean what you say. She is
perfectly seaworthy and sound. Just look at her inspection and he
passed him the certificate.
NoI don't want to see it! I know 'em by heart: it's a lie,
whatever it says. Give an inspector twenty dollars and he's stone
The Manager laughed softly. He had handled too many rebellious
captains in his time; they all had a protest of some kindit was
either the crew, or the grub, or the coal, or the way she was stowed.
Then he added softly, more as a joke than anything else:
Not afraid, are you, Captain?
A crack started from the left-hand corner of the Captain's mouth,
crossed a fissure in his face, stopped within half an inch of his stub
nose, and died out in a smile of derision.
What I'm afraid of is neither here nor there. There's cattle
aboardthat is, there will be by to-morrow night; and there's a lot of
passengers booked, some of 'em women and children. It isn't honest to
ship 'em and you know it! As to her boilers send for the Chief
Engineer. He'll tell you. You call it taking risks; I call it murder!
And so I understand you refuse to obey the orders of the
Board?and yet she's got to sail on the 16th if she sinks outside.
When I refuse to obey the orders of the Board I'll tell the Board,
not you. And when I do tell 'em I'll tell 'em something else, and that
is, that this chartering of worn-out tramps, painting 'em up and
putting 'em into the Line, has got to stop, or there'll be trouble.
But this will be her last trip, Captain. Then we'll overhaul her.
I've heard that lie for a year. She'll run as long as they can
insure her and her cargo. As for the women and children, I suppose they
don't count and he turned on his heel and left the office.
On the way out he met the Chief Engineer.
Do the best you can, Mike, he said; orders are we sail on the
On the fourth day out this conversation took place in the
smoking-room between a group of passengers.
Regular tub, this ship! growled the Man-Who-Knew-It-All to the Bum
Actor. Screw out of the water every souse she makes; lot of dirty
sailors skating over the decks instead of keeping below where they
belong; Chief Engineer loafing in the Captain's room every chance he
getsthere he goes nowand it's the second time since breakfast. And
the Captain is no better! And just look at the accommodationsthree
stewards and a woman! What's that to look after thirty-five passengers?
Half the time I have to wait an hour to get something to eatsuch as
it is. And my bunk wasn't made up yesterday until plumb night. That
bunch in the steerage must be having a hard time.
We get all we pay for, essayed the Travelling Man. She ain't
rigged for cabin passengers, and the Captain don't want 'em. Didn't
want to take meexcept our folks had a lot of stuff aboard. Had enough
passengers, he said.
Well, he took the widow and her two kidscontinued the
Man-Who-Knew-It-Alland they were the last to get aboard. Half the
time he's playing nurse instead of looking after his ship. Had 'em all
on the bridge yesterday.
He had to take 'em, protested the Travelling Man. She was
put under his charge by his ownersso one of the stewards told me.
Oh!had to, did he! YesI've been there before. No use
talkingthis line's got to be investigated, and I'm going to do the
investigating as soon as I get ashore, and don't you forget it! What's
The Bum Actor made no reply. He had been cold and hungry too many
days and nights to find fault with anything. But for the generosity of
a few friends he would still be tramping the streets, sleeping where he
could. Three meals a dayfour, if he wanted themand a bed in a room
all to himself instead of being one in a row of ten, was heaven to him.
What the Captain, or the Engineer, or the crew, or anybody else did,
was of no moment, so he got back alive. As to the widow's children, he
had tried to pick up an acquaintance with them himselfespecially the
boybut she had taken them away when she saw how shabby were his
The Texas Cattle Agent now spoke up. He was a tall, raw-boned man,
with a red chin-whisker and red, weather-scorched face, whose clothing
looked as if it had been pulled out of shape in the effort to
accommodate itself to the spread of his shoulders and round of his
thighs. His trousers were tucked in his boots, the straps hanging
loose. He generally sat by himself in one corner of the cramped
smoking-room, and seldom took part in the conversation. The Bum Actor
and he had exchanged confidences the night before, and the Texan
therefore felt justified in answering in his friend's stead.
You're way off, friend, he said to the Man-Who-Knew-It-All. There
ain't nothin' the matter with the Line, nor the ship, nor the Captain.
This is my sixth trip aboard of her, and I know! They had a strike
among the stevedores the day we sailed, and then, too, we've got a
scrub lot of stokers below, and the Captain's got to handle 'em just
so. That kind gets ugly when anything happens. I had sixty head of
cattle aboard here on my last trip over, and some of 'em got loose in a
storm, and there was hell to pay with the crew till things got
straightened out. I ain't much on shootin' irons, but they came handy
that time. I helped and I know. Got a couple in my cabin now. Needn't
tell me nothin' about the Captain. He's all there when he's wanted, and
it don't take him more'n a minute, either, to get busy.
The door of the smoking-room opened and the object of his eulogy
strolled in. He was evidently just off the bridge, for the thrash of
the spray still glistened on his oilskins and on his gray, half-moon
whiskers. That his word was law aboard ship, and that he enforced it in
the fewest words possible, was evident in every line of his face and
every tone of his voice. If he deserved an overhauling it certainly
would not come from any one on boardleast of all from Carhartthe
Loosening the thong that bound his so'wester to his chin, he slapped
it twice across a chair back, the water flying in every direction, and
then faced the room.
Yes, sir, answered the big-shouldered Texan, rising to his feet.
I'd like to see you for a minute, and without another word the two
men left the room and made their way in silence down the wet deck to
where the Chief Engineer stood.
Mike, this is Mr. Bonner; you remember him, don't you? You can rely
on his carrying out any orders you give him. If you need another man
let him pick him out and he continued on to his cabin.
Once there the Captain closed the door behind him, shutting out the
pound and swash of the sea; took from a rack over his bunk a roll of
charts, spread one on a table and with his head in his hands studied it
carefully. The door opened and the Chief Engineer again stood beside
him. The Captain raised his head.
Will Bonner serve? he asked.
Yes, glad to, and he thinks he's got another man. He's what he
calls out his way a 'tenderfoot,' he says, but he's game and can be
depended on. Have you made up your mind where she'll cross?and he
bent over the chart.
The Captain picked up a pair of compasses, balanced them for a
moment in his fingers, and with the precision of a seamstress threading
a needle, dropped the points astride a wavy line known as the steamer
The engineer nodded:
That will give us about twenty-two hours leeway, he said gravely,
if we make twelve knots.
Yes, if you make twelve knots: can you do it?
I can't say; depends on that gang of shovellers and the way they
behave. They're a tough lotjail-birds and tramps, most of 'em. If
they get ugly there ain't but one thing left; that, I suppose, you
won't object to.
The Captain paused for a moment in deep thought, glanced at the pin
prick in the chart, and said with a certain forceful meaning in his
Nonot if there's no other way.
The Chief Engineer waited, as if for further reply, replaced his
cap, and stepped out into the wind. He had got what he came for, and he
had got it straight.
With the closing of the door the Captain rolled up the chart, laid
it in its place among the others, readjusted the thong of his
so'wester, stopped for a moment before a photograph of his wife and
child, looked at it long and earnestly, and then mounted the stairs to
the bridge. With the exception that the line of his mouth had
straightened and the knots in his eyebrows tightened, he was, despite
the smoking-room critics, the same bluff, determined sea-dog who had
defied the Manager the week before.
When Bonner, half an hour later, returned to the smoking-room (he,
too, had caught the splash of the sea, the spray drenching the rail),
the Bum Actor crossed over and took the seat beside him. The Texan was
the only passenger who had spoken to him since he came aboard, and he
had already begun to feel lonely. This time he started the conversation
by brushing the salt spray from the Agent's coat.
Got wet, didn't you? Too bad! Wait till I wipe it off, and he
dragged a week-old handkerchief from his pocket. Then seeing that the
Texan took no notice of the attention, he added, What did the Captain
The Texan did not reply. He was evidently absorbed in something
outside his immediate surroundings, for he continued to sit with bent
back, his elbows on his knees, his eyes on the floor.
Again the question was repeated:
What did the Captain want? Nothing the matter, is there? Fear had
always been his masterfear of poverty mostlyand it was poverty in
the worst form to others if he failed to get home. This thought had
haunted him night and day.
Yes and no. Don't worryit'll all come out right. You seem
I am. I've been through a lot and have almost reached the end of my
rope. Have you got a wife at home? The Texan shook his head. Well, if
you had you'd understand better than I can tell you. I have, and a
three-year-old boy besides. I'd never have left them if I'd known. I
came over under contract for a six months' engagement and we were
stranded in Pittsburg and had hard work getting back to New York. Some
of them are there yet. All I want now is to get homenothing else will
save them. Here's a letter from her I don't mind showing youyou can
see for yourself what I'm up against. The boy never was strong.
The big Texan read it through carefully, handed it back without a
comment or word of sympathy, and then, with a glance around him, as if
in fear of being overheard, asked:
Can you keep your nerve in a mix-up?
Do you mean a fight? queried the Actor.
I don't like fightsnever did. Anything that would imperil his
safe return was to be avoided.
I neitherbut sometimes you've got to. Are you handy with a gun?
NothingI'm only asking.
Carhart, the Man-Who-Knew-It-All, here lounged over from his seat by
the table and dropped into a chair beside them, cutting short his
reply. The Texan gave a significant look at the Actor, enforcing his
silence, and then buried his face in a newspaper a month old.
Carhart spread his legs, tilted his head back on the chair, slanted
his stiff-brim hat until it made a thatch for his nose, and began one
of his customary growls: to the roomto the drenched port-holesto
the brim of his hat; as a half-asleep dog sometimes does when things
have gone wrong with himor he dreams they have.
This ship reminds me of another old tramp, the Persia, he
drawled. Same scrub crew and same cut of a Captain. Hadn't been for
two of the passengers and me, we'd never got anywhere. Had a fire in
the lower hold in a lot of turpentine, and when they put that out we
found her cargo had shifted and she was down by the head about six
feet. Then the crew made a rush for the boats and left us with only
four leaky ones to go a thousand miles. They'd taken 'em all, hadn't
been for me and another fellow who stood over them with a gun.
The Bum Actor raised his eyes.
What happened then? he asked in a nervous voice.
Oh, we pitched in and righted things and got into port at last. But
the Captain was no good; he'd a-left with the crew if we'd let him.
Is the shifting of a cargo a serious matter? continued the Actor.
This is my second crossing and I'm not much up on such things.
Depends on the weather, interpolated a passenger.
And on how she's stowed, continued Car-hart. I've been
mistrusting this ship ain't plumb on her keel. You can tell that from
the way she falls off after each wave strikes her. I have been out on
deck looking things over and she seems to me to be down by the stern
more than she ought.
Maybe she'll be lighter when more coal gets out of her, suggested
Yes, but she's listed some to starboard. I watched her awhile this
morning. She ain't loaded right, or she's loaded wrong,-purpose.
That occurs sometimes with a gang of striking stevedores.
The noon whistle blew and the talk ended with the setting of
everybody's watch, except the Bum Actor's, whose timepiece decorated a
shop-window in the Bowery.
That night one of those uncomfortable rumors, started doubtless by
Carhart's talk, shivered through the ship, its vibrations even reaching
the widow lying awake in her cabin. This said that some hundreds of
barrels of turpentine had broken loose and were smashing everything
below. If any one of them rolled into the furnaces an explosion would
follow which would send them all to eternity. That this absurdity was
immediately denied by the purser, who asserted with some vehemence that
there was not a gallon of turpentine aboard, did not wholly allay the
excitement, nor did it stifle the nervous anxiety which had now taken
possession of the passengers.
As the day wore on several additional rumors joined those already
extant. One was dropped in the ear of the Texan by the Bum Actor as the
two stood on the upper deck watching the sea, which was rapidly
I got so worried I thought I'd go down into the engine room
myself, he whispered. I'm just back. Something's wrong down there, or
I'm mistaken. I wish you'd go and find out. I knew that turpentine yarn
was a lie, but I wanted to be sure, so I thought I'd ask one of the
stokers who had come up for a little air. He was about to answer me
when the Chief Engineer came down from the bridge, where he had been
talking to the Captain, and ordered the man below before he had time to
fill his lungs. I waited a little while, hoping he or some of the crew
would come up again, and then I went down the ladder myself. When I got
to the first landing I came bump up against the Chief Engineer. He was
standing in the gangway fooling with a revolver he had in his hand as
if he'd been cleaning it. 'I'll have to ask you to get back where you
came from,' he said. 'This ain't no place for passengers'and up I
came. What do you think it means? I'd get ugly, too, if he kept me in
that heat and never let me get a whiff of air. I tell you, that's an
awful place down there. Suppose you go and take a look. Your knowing
the Captain might make some difference.
Were any of the stokers around? Nonone of them. I didn't see a
soul but the Chief Engineer, and I didn't see him more than a minute.
The big Texan moved closer to the rail and again scrutinized the
sky-line. He had kept this up all the morning, his eye searching the
horizon as he moved from one side of the ship to the other. The
inspection over, he slipped his arm through the Actor's and started him
down the deck toward the Cattle Agent's cabin. When the two emerged the
Texan's face still wore the look which had rested on it since the time
the Captain had called him from the smoking-room. The Actor's
countenance, however, had undergone a change. All his nervous timidity
was gone; his lips were tightly drawn, the line of the jaw more
determined. He looked like a man who had heard some news which had
first steadied and then solidified him. These changes often overtake
men of sensitive, highly strung natures.
On the way back they encountered the Captain accompanied by the
Chief Engineer. The two were heading for the saloon, the bugle having
sounded for luncheon. As they passed by with their easy, swinging gait,
the passengers watched them closely. If there was danger in the air
these two officers, of all men, would know it. The Captain greeted the
Texan with a significant look, waited until the Actor had been
presented, looked the Texan's friend over from head to foot, and then
with a nod to several of the others halted opposite a steamer chair in
which sat the widow and her two childrenone a baby and the other a
boy of foura plump, hugable little fellow, every inch of whose
surface invited a caress.
Please stay a minute and let me talk to you, Captain, the widow
pleaded. I've been so worried. None of these stories are true, are
they? There can't be any danger or you would have told mewouldn't
The Captain laughed heartily, so heartily that even the Chief
Engineer looked at him in astonishment. What stories do you hear, my
That the steamer isn't loaded properly?
Again the Captain laughed, this time under the curls of the chubby
boy whom he had caught in his arms and was kissing eagerly.
Not loaded right? he puffed at last when he got his breath. Well,
well, what a pity! That yarn, I guess, comes from some of the
navigators in the smoking-room. They generally run the ship. Here, you
little rascal, turn out your toes and dance a jig for me. Nononot
that waythis way-r-out with them! Here, let me show you.
Onetwooff we go. Now the pigeon wing and the double twist and the
rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tatthat's the way, my lad!
He had the boy's hands now, the child shouting with laughter, the
overjoyed mother clapping her hands as the big burly Captain with his
face twice as red from the exercise, danced back and forth across the
deck, the passengers forming a ring about them.
There! sputtered the Captain, all out of breath from the exercise,
as he dropped the child back into the widow's arms. Now all of you
come down to luncheon. The weather is getting better every minute. The
glass is rising and we are going to have a fine night.
Carhart, who had watched the whole performance with an ill-concealed
sneer on his face, muttered to the man next him:
What did I tell you? He's a pretty kind of a Captain, ain't he?
He's mashed on the widow just as I told you. Smoking-room yarn, is it?
I bet I could pick out half a dozen men right in them chairs who could
run the ship as well as he does. Maybe we'll have to take charge, after
alldon't you think so, Mr. Bonner?
The Texan smiled grimly: I'll let you do the picking, Mr.
Carhart and with his hand on the Actor's arm, the two went below.
A counter-current now swept through the ship. If anything was really
the matter the Captain would not be dancing jigs, nor would he leave
the bridge for his meals. This, like all other counter-currentswave
or otherwisetossed up a bobble of dispute when the two clashed. There
was no doubt about it: Carhart had been talking through his
hatshooting off his mouththe man was a gas bag, etc., etc.
When appeal for confirmation was made to the Texan and the Actor, who
now seemed inseparable, neither made reply. They evidently did not care
to be mixed up in what Bonner characterized with a grim smile as more
All through the meal the Captain kept up his good-natured mood;
chatting with the widow who sat on his right, the baby in her lap;
making a pig of a lemon and some tooth-picks for the boy, who had
crawled up into his arms; exchanging nods and smiles down the length of
the table with several new arrivals, or congratulating those nearest to
him on their recovery after the storm, ending by carrying both boy and
baby to the upper deckso that he might not forget how to handle his
own when he got back, he laughed in explanation.
Luncheon over, the passengers, many of whom had been continuously in
their berths, began to crowd the decks. These soon discovered that the
ship was not on an even keel; a fact confirmed when attention was
called to the slant of the steamer chairs and the roll of an orange
toward the scuppers. Explanation was offered by the Texan, who argued
that the wind had hauled, and being then abeam had given her a list to
starboard. This, while not wholly satisfactory to the more experienced,
allayed the fears of the womenthere were two or three on board beside
the widowwho welcomed the respite from the wrench and stagger of the
Attention was now drawn by a nervous passenger to a gang of sailors
under the First Officer, who were at work overhauling the boats on the
forward deck, immediately under the eyes of the Captain who had
returned to the bridge, as well as to an approaching wall of fog which,
while he was speaking, had blanketed the ship, sending two of the boat
gang on a run to the bow. The fog-horn also blew continuously, almost
without intermission. Now and then it too would give three short, sharp
snorts, as if of warning.
The passengers had now massed themselves in groups, some touch of
sympathy, or previous acquaintance, or trait of courage but recently
discovered, having drawn them together. Again the Captain passed down
the deck. This time he stopped to light a cigarette from a passenger's
cigar, remarking as he did so that it was as thick as pea soup on the
bridge, but he thought it would lighten before morning. Then halting
beside the chair of an old lady who had but recently appeared on deck,
he congratulated her on her recovery and kept on his way to the boats.
The widow, however, was still anxious.
What are they doing with the boats? she asked, her eyes following
the Captain's disappearing figure.
Only overhauling them, madam, spoke up the Texan, who had
stationed himself near her chair.
But isn't that unusual! she inquired in a tremulous voice.
No, madam, just precaution, and always a safe one in a fog.
Collision comes so quick sometimes they don't have time even to clear
But the sailors are carrying up boxes and kegs and putting them in
the boats; what's that for? broke in another passenger, who had been
leaning over the forward rail.
Grub and water, I guess, returned the Texan. It's a thousand
miles to the nearest land, and there ain't no bakery on the way that I
know of. Can't be too careful when there's women and babies aboard,
especially little fellows like these and he ran his hand through the
boy's curls. The Captain don't take no chances. That's what I like him
Again the current of hope submerged the current of despair. The
slant of the deck, however, increased, although the wind had gone down;
so much so that the steamer chairs had to be lashed to the iron
hand-hold skirting the wall of the upper cabins. So had the fog, which
was now so dense that it hid completely the work of the boat gang.
With the passing of the afternoon and the approach of night, thus
deepening the gloom, there was added another and a new anxiety to the
drone of the fog-horn. This was a Coston signal which flashed from the
bridge, flooding the deck with light and pencilling masts and rigging
in lines of fire. These flashes kept up at intervals of five minutes,
the colors changing from time to time.
An indefinable fear now swept through the vessel. The doubters and
scoffers from the smoking-room who stood huddled together near the
forward companion-way talked in whispers. The slant of the deck they
argued might be due to a shift of the cargoa situation serious, but
not dangerousbut why burn Costons? The only men who seemed to be
holding their own, and who were still calm and undisturbed, were the
Texan and the Actor. These, during the conference, had moved toward the
flight of steps leading to the bridge and had taken their positions
near the bottom step, but within reach of the widow's chair. Once the
Actor loosened his coat and slipped in his hand as if to be sure of
something he did not want to lose.
While this was going on the Captain left the bridge in charge of the
Second Officer and descended to his cabin. Reaching over his bunk, he
unhooked the picture of his wife and child, tore it from its frame,
looked at it intently for a moment, and then, with a sigh, slid it into
an inside pocket. This done, he stripped off his wet storm coat, thrust
his arms into a close-fitting reefing jacket, unhooked a holster from
its place, dropped its contents into his outside pocket, and walked
slowly down the flight of steps to where the Texan and the Actor stood
Then, facing the passengers, and in the same tone of voice with
which he would have ordered a cup of coffee from a steward, he said:
My friends, I find it necessary to abandon the ship. There is time
enough and no necessity for crowding. The boats are provisioned for
thirty days. The women and children will go first: this order will be
literally carried out; those who disobey it will have to be dealt with
in another way. This, I hope, you will not make necessary. I will also
tell you that I believe we are still within the steamer zone, although
the fog and weather have prevented any observation. Do you stay here,
madam. I'll come for you when I am ready and he laid his hand
encouragingly on the widow's arm.
With this he turned to the Texan and the Actor:
You understand, both of you, do you not, Mr. Bonner? You and your
friend will guard the aft companion-way, and help the Chief Engineer
take care of the stokers and the steerage. I and the First Officer will
fill the boats.
The beginning of a panic is like the beginning of a fire: first a
curl of smoke licking through a closed sash, then a rush of flame, and
then a roar freighted with death. Its subduing is along similar lines:
A sharp command clearing the way, concentrated effort, and courage.
Here the curl of smoke was an agonized shriek from an elderly woman
who fell fainting on the deck; the rush of flame was a wild surge of
men hurling themselves toward the boats, and the roar which meant death
was the frenzied throng of begrimed half-naked stokers and crazed
emigrants who were wedged in a solid mass in the companion-way leading
to the upper deck. The subduing was the same.
[Illustration: Back, all of you ]
Back, all of you! shouted the Engineer. The first man who passes
that door without my permission I'll kill! Five of you at a timeno
crowdingkeep 'em in line, Mr. Bonneryou and your friend!
The Texan and the Bum Actor were within three feet of him as he
spokethe Texan as cool as if he were keeping count of a drove of
steers, except that he tallied with the barrel of a six-shooter instead
of a note-book and pencil. The Bum Actor's face was deathly white and
his pistol hand trembled a little, but he did not flinch. He ranged the
lucky ones in line farther along, and kept them there. Anything to get
home, he had told the Texan when he had slipped Bonner's other
revolver, an hour before, into his pocket.
On the saloon deck the flame of fear was still raging, although the
sailors and the three stewards were so many moving automatons under the
First Officer's orders. The widow, with her baby held tight to her
breast, had not moved from where the Captain had placed her, nor had
she uttered a moan. The crisis was too great for anything but implicit
obedience. The Captain had kept his word, and had told her when danger
threatened; she must now wait for what God had in store for her. The
boy stood by the First Officer; he had clapped his hands and laughed
when he saw the first boat swung clear of the davits.
Carhart was the color of ashes and could hardly articulate. He had
edged up close to the gangway where the boats were to be filled. Twice
he had tried to wedge himself between the First Officer and the rail
and twice had been pushed backthe last time with a swing that landed
him against a pile of steamer chairs.
All this time the fog-horn had kept up its monotonous din, the
Costons flaring at intervals. The stoppage of either would only have
added to the terror now partly allayed by the Captain's encouraging
talk, which was picked up and repeated all over the ship.
The first boat was now ready for passengers.
This way, madamyou first the Captain said to the widow. You
must go alone with the baby, and I
He did not finish the sentence. Something had caught his
earsomething that made him lunge heavily toward the rail, his eyes
searching the gloom, his hand cupped to his ear.
Hold hard, men! he cried. Keep still-all of you!
[Illustration: Hold hard men ]
Out of the stillness of the night came the moan of a distant
fog-horn. This was followed by a wild cheer from the men at the boat
davits. At the same instant a dim, far-away light cut its way through
the black void, burned for a moment, and disappeared like a dying star.
Another cheer went up. This time the watch on the foretop and the
men astride the nose sent it whirling through the choke and damp with
an added note of joy.
The Captain turned to the widow.
That's herthat's the St. Louis! I've been hoping for her
all day, and didn't give up until the fog shut in.
And we can stay here!
Nowe haven't a moment to lose. Our fires are nearly out now.
We've been in a sinking condition for forty-eight hours. We sprung a
leak where we couldn't get at it, and our pumps are clogged.
Stand aside, men! All ready, madam! No, you can't manage them
bothgive me the boy,I'll bring him in the last boat.