"I'm the new Captain and
I came down to tell you I don't think much of your machinery, and to
ask if the shaft will hold out."
"The shaft'll hold," said the engineer. Then he paused and looked at
Dan in supreme disgust. "Engines!" he snorted. "I've been holdin' 'em
together with my fingers since we left San Domingo. Cap'n, they'd been
fine for a Swiss cuckoo clock. Why, they're only held together by gilt
paint and polish. See how old Howland's had 'em painted--like a
bedizened old maid! I do believe he's got 'em perfumed. Well, they
may hold--"
Dan, who had been glancing about the engine-room, interrupted the
engineer's pessimistic outburst.
"What are your force pumps going for?" he asked.
"Well, it ain't fur to water no flowers," said Arthur, beckoning Dan to
the shaft tunnel, where a foot and a half of frothy water was rolling
to and fro, slushing against the stuffing box, laving the engine-room
bulkhead.
Leaking! Dan's first impulse was to drop his hands then and there and
let the yacht sink or do what she would for all he cared. He had
fought out his fight with a better craft than this and had lost her.
He did not yield to this; in truth, before he could think of yielding
there came a second impulse--to relieve his mind of several hundred
accumulated metaphors, to which inclination he surrendered
unconditionally, while Arthur, in the face of the verbal torrent, gazed
at the source in humble admiration.
Pages:
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84