There seemed to be no danger, for the ship was quite steady, with level decks. Turning to another quartermaster, Dixon gave further orders clearly and concisely.
“Keep her at that,” he said to the second officer, indicating the dial of the engine-room.
“Stay where you are!” he shouted to the two steersmen who were preparing to quit the wheelhouse.
If Captain Dixon had never made a mistake in seamanship he must have thought out the possibilities of this mistake in all their bearings. For the situation was quite clear and compact in his mind. The orders he gave came in their proper sequence and were given to the right men.
From the decks beneath arose a confused murmur like the stirring of bees in an overturned hive. Then a sharp order in one voice, clear and strong, followed by a dead silence.
“Good!” said the captain. “Stoke has got 'em in hand.”
He broke off and looked sharply fore and aft and up above him at the towering funnel.
“She is heeling,” he said. “Martin, she's heeling.”
The ship was slowly turning on her side, like some huge and stricken dumb animal laying itself down to die.
“Yes,” said the captain with a bitter laugh, to the two steersmen who had come a second time to the threshold of the wheel-house, “yes, you can go.”