"Something wrong with the starboard paddle-wheel."
"I don't understand."
"That green wave did a lot of damage—carried away the driving-arm, and broke the radial rods. It is what they call a 'feathering paddle-wheel.' There is nothing now to control the floats. The fear is, if the engines are started again, that the loose floats may break in the side of the steamer."
"And—sink us?"
"Things might come to that."
"What are we to do?"
"Let ourselves drift for a time. There seems to be no other choice. The risk of using the paddle-wheel is too great to be ventured on—unless as a last resource; and we have not come to last resources yet. So long as we have plenty of sea-room, we are hardly in actual danger. The difficulty is as to steering. The sea breaks through the wheel incessantly. But they are contriving some sort of apparatus, to prevent our drifting too fast, and to keep the boat's head to the wind."
"When shall we reach Newhaven?"
"Not much hope of Newhaven at present. With this head-wind, I suppose we shall drift over towards the French coast—and up Channel. By-and-bye we may fall in with some other steamer, and be taken in tow . . . It is patience-trying."
"If I had not been so bent in coming by this boat—!"