“The first thing to be done now,” said Phil, “is to find out what damage we have suffered, and repair as much of it as we can.”
“Better begin with your head then,” said Will. “It seems to have sustained more damage than anything else in sight.”
The cut Phil had received had covered his face and shoulders with blood, and his head was aching severely. But he was not ready to think of himself yet. He must first do everything that could be done for the safety of the boat and crew and cargo. So he dismissed Will’s suggestion, saying:—
“Never mind about my head. I’ll wash the blood off when other things are done. There’s plenty of water, anyhow.”
With that he went below again to inspect. He found that the water there had risen since the pumps were stopped until now it stood about two inches above the false bottom or floor on which the cargo rested. Putting his head out through the scuttle, he called:—
“Two of you go to the pumps—one to each pump. Don’t work too hard, but keep up a steady pumping. As soon as the two get tired, let the other two take their places.”
He withdrew his head, but in a few moments after the pumps were started he thrust it out again to say:—
“Don’t pump so hard! You’ll break yourselves down, and we can’t afford that now.”
He went below again, lighted a lantern and made as thorough an examination of the boat as possible, even moving a good deal of the freight about in order to get at points where he suspected the principal leaks to be. Two of these he closed by nailing blocks of inch board over them.
Meantime he made frequent observations of the water mark he had set, and was rejoiced to find that the pumps were taking water out more rapidly than it was leaking in.