“All right,” said Evans, speaking to the man at the wheel. “Bring her to port, five degrees. Ring Stand By, Mate.”
Martin skidded across the deck. He rang the engine room several times on the telegraph. Then he set the markers on Stand By.
They waited for the Chief to answer. Two minutes passed and then the Chief rang back. He was ready.
“Half Speed Ahead,” said Evans.
Martin set the markers on Half Speed. The ship’s vibration changed. Waves which had once crashed against them now lifted the ship easily onto their crests.
Evans turned to Martin.
“Go below and get some of the crew. Be ready to anchor when I give the word. When we get out of the wind you and your men go out on the forward deck and stand by.”
“Right.” Martin went quickly below. The idea of going out on deck in this weather did not appeal to him. Someone had to do it, though.
He gathered two deckhands in the galley. They cursed loudly but he knew they were glad to be anchoring.
Then, the ship having rounded the point, they went outside on the forward deck. Martin was almost thrown off his feet by a gust of wind. Though somewhat protected by the hills, they were not yet completely out of the storm. The wind was cold and penetrating. It chilled him, even through his heavy parka. Water whipped their faces. The deck was dangerously slick and the ship still pitched badly. On hands and knees, their eyes barely open and smarting from the salt, they wormed their way forward to the bow and the anchor winches.