But there was water in the hold. The ship was leaking badly.
Up from the stifling interior straggled the unhappy inmates. They looked again upon the unbelievable: a smiling, dancing sea of blue under a canopy clean and spotless. It was unbelievable. Even the stouthearted Captain and the faithful mate, blear-eyed and haggard from loss of sleep, were filled with wonder.
“I can't understand it,” muttered Mr. Mott a dozen times that day, shaking his head in a bewildered sort of way. “I can't understand how she did it. By right, she ought to be at the bottom of the ocean, and here she is on top of it, same as ever.”
“Do you believe in God, Mr. Mott?” asked the Captain solemnly.
“I do,” said Mr. Mott emphatically. After a moment he added: “I've been a long time coming to it, Captain Trigger, but I do. Nothing short of an Almighty Being could have steered this ship for the past two days.”
The Captain nodded his head slowly, his gaze fixed on something above and far beyond the horizon.
“I suppose it's too much to ask of Him, though,” said he, audibly completing a thought.
Mr. Mott evidently had been thinking of the same thing, for he said:
“I'm sorry to say it's gained about two feet on the pumps since last night.”
Captain Trigger's face was very grave. “That means a couple of days more at the outside.” His eyes rested speculatively on the three lifeboats still hanging above the starboard rail. There was another being repaired on the port side. “More than six hundred of us on board, Andrew.” His head dropped suddenly, his chin twitched. Mr. Mott looked away.