se'll cost," Abdullah
Monnahan, the engineer, said, "and the expenses'll cut into the
shares."

"Tell the truth, I'm sort of antsy to get back," Joe Kivelson said. "I
want to see what's going on in Port Sandor."

"So am I," Murell said. "I want to get some kind of office opened, and
get into business. What time will the _Cape Canaveral_ be getting in?
I want a big cargo, for the first time."

"Oh, not for four hundred hours, at the least," I said. "The
spaceships always try to miss the early-dark and early-daylight
storms. It's hard to get a big ship down in a high wind."

"That'll be plenty of time, I suppose," Murell said. "There's all that
wax you have stored, and what I can get out of the Co-operative stores
from crews that reclaim it. But I'm going to have a lot to do."

"Yes," I agreed. "Dodging bullets, for one."

"Oh, I don't expect any trouble," Murell said. "This fellow Ravick's
shot his round."

He was going to say something else, but before he could say it there
was a terrific roar forward. The whole ship bucked like a recoiling
gun, throwing everybody into a heap, and heeled over to starboard.
There were a lot of yells, particularly from those who had been
splashed with hot coffee, and somebody was shouting something about
the magazines.

"The magazines are aft, you dunderhead," Joe Kivelson told him,
shoving himself to his feet. "Stay put, everybody; I'll see what it
is."

He pulled open the door forward. An instant later, he had slammed it
shut and was dogging it fast.

"Hull must be ruptured forward; we're making water. It's spouting up
the hatch from the engine room like a geyser," he said. "Ramon, go see
what it's like in the boat berth. The rest of you, follow him, and
grab all the food and warm clothing you can. We're going to have to
abandon."

He stood by the doorway aft, shoving people through and keeping them
from jamming up, saying: "Take it easy, now; don't crowd. We'll all
get out." There wasn't any panic. A couple of men were in the doorway
of the little galley when I came past, handing out cases of food. As
nothing was coming out at the instant, I kept on, and on the way back
to the boat-berth hatch, I pulled down as many parkas and pairs of
overpants as I could carry, squeezing past Tom, who was collecting
fleece-lined hip boots. Each pair was buckled together at the tops; a
hunter always does that, even at home ashore.

Ramon had the hatch open, and had opened the top hatc