“That’s right. We’re pumping it out here as quick as we can. Comes in fast enough to most sink us.”
Shaddy then went on working away out in the pelting rain, and a minute later they made out that his chief man was hard at work forward.
And still the rain came down, and the lightning kept on flashing through the dark shelter; while, if there was any change at all in the thunder, it was louder, clearer, and more rapid in following the electric discharge.
“I say, Joe,” whispered Rob at last, with his lips close to his companion’s ear, “how do you feel?”
“Don’t know: so curious—as if tiny pins and needles were running through me. What’s that curious singing noise?”
“That’s just what I want to know. I can feel it all through me, and my ears are as if I had caught a bad cold. Like bells ringing; singing you call it.”
Just then Shaddy’s voice was heard in an interval between two peals of thunder shouting to his men in a tone of voice which indicated that something was wrong, and Brazier thrust out his head from the opening at one end of the awning to ask what was the matter.
“Matter, sir? Why, if we don’t get all hands at the pumps the ship’ll sink.”
“Is it so bad as that? We’ll all come at once.”
“Nay, nay. I’ve got a strong enough crew, only we must use buckets instead of balers.”