“That’s the style,” he said, as they began to frizzle and blaze. “Look, lads, the kettle’ll be boilin’ in twa seconds.”
“Thank you, Stuart,” said McBain, when the engineer went on the bridge to report everything ready; “you are a valuable servant; now stand by to receive orders.”
All hands had been called, and there was certainly plenty for them to do.
It wanted several hours to high-water, and McBain determined to make the best of his time.
“By the blessing of Providence on our own exertions, Stevenson,” the captain said, “we’ll get her off all right. Had it been high-water, though, when we ran on shore, eh!”
Stevenson laughed a grim laugh. “We’d leave her bones here,” he said, “that would be all.”
The men were now getting their big guns over the side into the boats. This would lighten her a little. But as the tide was flowing, anchors were sent out astern, to prevent the ship from being carried still farther on to the reef.
“Go astern at full speed.”
The screws revolved and kept on revolving, the ship still stuck fast. The night was very dark, so that everything had to be done by the weird light of lanterns. Never mind, the work went cheerily on, and the men sang as they laboured.
“High-water about half-past two, isn’t it, Stevenson?” asked Captain McBain.