“Are ye coal-passers?” asked Mike.
“Passengers.”
“Wot?”
“We are passengers.”
“Ah asked ye if ye are coal-passers?”
Mike Monkey pointed toward the low door through the bulkhead which separated the engine-room from the stoke hold.
“Get forrard!” he rasped. “D’ye know the skipper rang for a turn on the engines? D’ye know there’s only thirty pounds ov steam?”
The Russians moved toward the stokehold door. Mike picked up his spanner and followed them. He spent the next lurid hour breaking in two green firemen whose manners were sullen and morose.
It was after sundown when the Shongpong clamped from her anchorage in the cove and started eastward over the polished waters of the Japan Sea.