“Well, then, now, my lad, I should be much obliged to you if you’d tell me which is exactly the right place.”
Rodd looked at him in despair.
“Thank you, my lad,” said the skipper dryly. “I am much obliged. But all right, Mr Rodd; you can’t tell, and I can’t tell. We know that the ball that came from the fort must have gone downwards a bit, so that it went out from lower than where it went in; but there’s no knowing whether she was hit from starboard or from larboard, and that’s where I’m bothered. But never say die. I think we will make this bit of canvas fast now, for I’m pretty sure of one thing; it will be a plaister for one hole if it isn’t for the other.”
“But look here, captain,” cried Rodd.
“What now?”
“Won’t the water run under the canvas just the same as it did before?”
“No, my lad, it won’t; and I’ll tell you the reason why when we have done. Of course you know I am not going to stop all the water from coming in below, but if I can get it checked a bit so that they can keep it down easy with one man at the pump instead of two, she won’t go to the bottom just yet, and they will have time enough to get into port to set the carpenter at work.”
“Then you won’t let our carpenter try to stop the holes?”
“No, my lad. You see, he never learned to be a fish, so that he could work under water; and though he’s a bit of a crab in his way, I don’t think he could manage it for all that. Now I’m ready to go on. Come, my lads, put your backs into it and haul them sheets tight. Here, master, let two of your men go to each corner and help my lads. All together as hard as they can!” shouted the skipper, and the Count quickly translated his order.
“That’s right! Haul away, my lads!” shouted the skipper. “That new canvas won’t give. Harder! Harder! Now then, one more—all you know!—Make fast!”