Lister thought about the men on board the hulk. Two, buffeted by wind and spray, must hold the wheel on the short quarter-deck that lifted them above the shelter of the bulwarks. Forward of this, the water rolled about, washing on board and pouring out. The men could not for a moment slack their watchfulness. Sweating and straining at the spokes, they must hold her straight. To let her sheer when she crossed a comber's top would break the rope.
The strain on the laboring engines indicated that the men held out and Lister fixed his thoughts on his machinery. One could not see much, but while he turned the valve-wheel he listened. If a bearing got hot or a brass shook loose, he would hear the jar. An engine running as it ought to run was like a well-tuned instrument.
He heard no discord. The heavy thud of the cross-heads, flashing between their guides, beat time to the clang of the valve-gear, a pump throbbed like a kettledrum, and something tinkled like a high-pitched triangle. All went well, the engines were good and Terrier stubbornly forged ahead.
By and by the strain was less marked. The load was getting lighter and after a time Lister let go the wheel and wiped his wet face. He could stand on the platform without support, the plunges were easy and regular. Calling a man to relieve him, he went to the door.
The sea was white, but it no longer ran in crested ridges and a vague dark line crossed the foam ahead. Sometimes part of the line vanished and reappeared like a row of dots with broad gaps between. Lister knew it was breakwater. On the other side anchor-lights tossed, and in the background a dull, reflected illumination indicated a town. Then the gong rang and Lister went back to the platform. In a few minutes he would get the signal to stop his engines. The first struggle was over; Brown had made Holyhead.
[CHAPTER II]
[THE WRECK]
The night was calm, but now and then a faint, hot wind blew from the shadowy coast, and rippling the water, brought a strange, sour smell. Lister did not know the smell; Brown knew and frowned, for he had been broken by the malaria that haunts West African river mouths. Heavy dew dripped from the awnings on Terrier's bridge and in places trickled through the material, since canvas burns in the African sun. Brown searched the dark coast with his glasses, trying to find the marks he had noted on the chart. Lister leaned against the rails and mused about the voyage.
They had ridden out a winter's gale in the Bay of Biscay and for a night had lost the hulk and the men on board. Then they went into Vigo, where Lister's firemen wrecked a wine shop and it cost him much in bribes to save them from jail. He had another taste of their quality at Las Palmas, where they made trouble with the port guards and Brown brawled in the cheap wine shops behind the cathedral. In fact, it was some relief when the captain fell off the steam tram that runs between town and port, and a cut on his head stopped his adventures.
Then they steamed for fourteen-hundred miles before the Northeast Trades, with a misty blue sky overhead and long, white-topped seas rolling up astern. The Trade breeze was cool and bracing, but they lost it near the coast, and now the air was hot and strangely heavy. One felt languid and cheerfulness cost an effort. The men had begun to grumble and Lister was glad the voyage was nearly over and it was time to get to work.