There was another streak of light directly after, followed by a flash and a wax match burned brightly in the doctor’s fingers, for those he carried in a little silver box proved to be dry.
“Ha!” ejaculated Bostock, reaching up to the lamp, which was slowly subsiding from its pendulum-like motion. “I hate being in the dark, even if it’s only a fog. You never know which way to steer.”
“Can you light the lamp?”
“Yes, sir, all right, in a minute. Wick’s got shook down. That’s better; give me hold, or you’ll burn your fingers; mine’s as hard as horn. Well done; first go.”
For the wick caught and burned brightly, the glass was replaced, and the doctor was able to examine his patient once more.
“How is he, sir?”
“Just the same,” replied the doctor.
“Well done; that’s better than being worse, sir. And I say, it’s blowing great guns still, but nothing like what it was an hour ago. Dessay it’ll pass over before long. Come and let’s see what it’s like on deck.”
They went up together into a storm of blinding spray, which swept by them with a hissing rush; but there were no raging billows striking the steamer’s sides and curling over in turns to sweep the deck, and, getting into shelter, they tried vainly to make out their position.
They had no difficulty in stepping to the side of the saloon deck, for there was no water to wade through, and the great vessel was as steady now as if built upon a foundation of rock, and as soon as they had wiped the spray from their eyes they tried hard to pierce the gloom.