“We made it,” said Bervick.
“Yes, we got off the rocks. I was afraid for a while we weren’t going to be able to. We were really jammed in there. Took the whole guardrail off.”
“Did you look in the focs’le to see if there were any leaks?”
“No. You think we should?”
“Yes. You take the focs’le and I’ll go down in the hold.”
On deck the wind was brisk but not strong. The air was clearer but the sky was still overcast. With night coming the weather might yet be good.
Bervick slipped the covering off one end of the hatch. Carefully he went down the narrow ladder. The hold was dark and damp and smelled of salt and wood. When he got to the bottom he turned on a light.
There were several crates of machinery on the deck of the hold. They had not been given much cargo to carry on this trip. Pieces of tarpaulin and lengths of line were strewn over the deck. Ammunition for the ship’s gun rolled about the hold. They had dismantled most of their gun and had stored the pieces. No one ever saw the Japanese in these waters.
Bervick examined the damp bulkheads carefully. They seemed to be sound. He walked over the deck and could not find any sign of a leak.
He turned off the light and climbed out of the hold. Martin was standing by the railing.