e
bridge.

"Are you there, sir?" he called.

There was no answer. He went up to the man at the wheel, who was turning
the spokes of the wheel rapidly.

"Where is the Captain?" he demanded harshly.

"He's over there," said the man confidentially, nodding towards the
other side of the bridge. "What was that, sir? Explosions?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Spokesly angrily. "Ask the captain," and he
went down again and descended the ladder to the fore-deck.

He fell over something here in the dark, something rough and with jagged
edges. He felt it with his hands and discovered that it was one of the
heavy cast-iron bollards which were mounted on either side of the
forecastle head. Mr. Spokesly began to realize that he was confronting a
problem which he would have to handle alone. He stepped over the mass of
metal, which had been flung fifty feet, and immediately tripped upon a
swaying, jagged surface that tore his clothes and cut his hands. He said
to himself, "The deck is torn up. I must have a light." There was no
sound from forward and he wondered miserably if any of them had been
hurt. He climbed to the bridge again to get a hurricane lamp that he
knew was in the chart room. While he was striking a match to light it he
was once more aware of the fact that the engines were still going. So he
hadn't stopped or anything. The captain's form was dimly discernible
against the canvas dodger, extraordinarily huge and rotund. Mr.
Spokesly's anger broke out in a harsh yell.

"Hi, Captain! Do you know your forecastle's carried away? Or perhaps you
don't care."

"I won't be spoken to in that manner," came the lisping, toothless voice
from the darkness. "Go forward and report on the damage. I should think
it wouldn't be necessary to tell an experienced officer his duty...."

Mr. Spokesly, swinging the hurricane lamp in his hand, laid his other
hand upon Captain Rannie's shoulder.

"Look you here, Captain. You won't be spoken to in that manner? You'll
be spoken to as I want from now on. Do you get that? From now on. I'm
going forward to report damage. And when I find out if the ship's
sinking, I'll not trouble to tell you, you double-crossing old
blatherskite you!" And he gave the captain a thrust that sent him flying
into the pent-house at the end, where he remained invisible but audible,
referring with vivacity to the fact that he had been "attacked."

"I'll attack you again when I come back," muttered his chief officer a