"How--how much is she taking in?" the young man finally gasped.
"About thirty strokes a minute. I'd 'a' whistled up the tube about it
before, only I thought you had enough to fill your mind."
"How does it strike you?" asked Dan.
"It's gained only six inches in the past hour. I will say that much.
But if you ask me my honest opinion, I'd say this rotten old pleasure
hull is a-gettin' ready to open up and spread out like a--like
a--balloon with the epizooetic."
"All right, when she begins, come on up with your men without asking
leave. Report every half-hour. I'll be on the bridge, of course. If
I can pick up a steamship I'll call her and desert ship; if not--well,
we're somewhere outside the Winter Quarter light-ship. I'll need about
five hours of the speed we're making to pick up the light vessel and
beach the yacht in the lee of Assateague; maybe not quite five hours, I
can't say exactly."
"I think we can keep ahead of the water we're makin' that long,"
replied Arthur, cheerfully.
As Dan regained the bridge, the bad news he had received below was
slightly compensated for by the fact that the storm seemed to be taking
a new kink, swirling away to sea. The gray combers, however, were
still disagreeably to be reckoned with. The second officer had by this
time pulled himself together, and as he reported to Dan, the young
Captain was happy to feel that he had at least a lieutenant who could
be counted on.
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