led out from _Terrier's_ bridge and the hulk drove astern. Then the
blue light vanished and Lister plunged into the engine-room. Somehow the
thing was done.

The gong signaled _Half-speed_, the rhythmic clash of engines began, and
Lister felt _Terrier_ tremble as she tightened the rope. Brown had
played his part and Lister's had begun. He wondered whether they could
keep the water out of the engine-room. They had drifted off-shore, and
now they had opened up the channel the combers leaped on board. The seas
were not regular; they ran in short, steep ridges, and gave the tug no
time to lift. While she swung her bows from the foaming turmoil the next
swept her deck. But to watch the seas and keep the hulk in line was the
captain's business, and Lister was occupied by his.

Standing on a slanted platform with his hand on the throttle, he waited
for the lurch that lifted the spinning screw. When the blades left the
water, the engines raced with a horrible din and he must cut off steam.
If he let the engines go, something might break when the propeller got
hold again. The work demanded a firm but delicate touch, since the
pressure must change with the swiftly-changing load. One could not argue
when the bows would plunge and the stern swing clear; one must know
instinctively. The muscular effort was not hard, but Lister's face was
wet with sweat, and when he was slow and the engine-room rang with the
clash of machinery his heart beat. The big columns that held the
cylinders rocked; crank and connecting-rod spun too fast for him to see.
There was a confusing flash of steel and a daunting uproar.

For the most part, he was able to get control before the stern came
down. Moreover, he was not using full steam; to let her go would swamp
the boat and wash the men off the laboring hulk. Lister knew the rope
held because he felt the heavy drag. Although she rolled and plunged,
there was no life in _Terrier's_ movements. She was sluggish,
embarrassed by the load she hauled.

Lister thought about the men on board the hulk. Two, buffeted by wind
and spray, must hold the wheel on the short quarter-deck that lifted
them above the shelter of the bulwarks. Forward of this, the water
rolled about, washing on board and pouring out. The men could not for a
moment slack their watchfulness. Sweating and straining at the spokes,
they must hold her straight. To let her sheer when she crossed a
comber's top would break the rope.

The strain on