oiling water. As the fagged stokers bent
before the boilers, the hot water, dripping from the breeching, washed
scalding channels through the coal-dust down their bare backs. They
hailed this new torment with louder curses, but continued to endure it
for hours, while outside the hurricane raged, no end, no limit, to its
power.

Since the beginning of the watch the bilge-pumps had had all they could
do to handle the leakage coming from the seams of the strained hull.
Twice Neville had taken the throttle and sent his oiler to clear the
suctions. The violent lurching of the ship had churned up every ounce of
sediment that had lain undisturbed beneath the floor-plates since the
vessel's launching. Sometime between seven and eight all the bilge-pumps
clogged at the same moment, and the water began rising at a rate that
threatened the fires. It became a question of minutes between life and
death for all hands. Neville, working frantically to clear the pumps,
yelled to the oiler to leave the throttle and come to him. The water,
gaining fast, showed him that their combined efforts were hopeless. He
ran to the boiler-room for more aid. Here the water had risen almost to
the fires; as the ship rolled, it slushed up between the floor-plates
and ran in oily streams about the men's feet. Again panic seized the
crew.

"Come on, lads!" Sullivan shouted above the infernal din. "We'll be
drowned in this hell-hole!"

In the next second he was half-way up the ladder, below him, clinging to
the rungs like frightened apes, hung other stokers.

"Come back, you fool!" Neville shouted. "Open that deck-door, and you'll
swamp the ship!"

Dan continued to climb.

"Come down or I'll fire!"

"Shoot an' be damned to you!" Dan called back.

The report of Neville's revolver was lost in the noise; but the bullet,
purposely sent high, spattered against the steel plate above Dan's head.
He looked down. Neville, swaying with the pitching floor, was aiming
true for his second shot. Cursing at the top of his voice, Dan scrambled
down the ladder, pushing the men below him to the floor.

"Back to your boilers!" Neville ordered; but the stokers, huddled in a
frightened group, refused to leave the ladder.

It was only a matter of seconds now before the fires would be drenched.
Bilge-water was splashing against the under boiler-plates, filling the
room with dense steam. Neville left the men and raced for the
engine-room. He found Larry and the oiler