It came nearer and clearer until finally, as it reached a point near to the top of the stairway under which Joe was concealed, the latter could discern the fog-horn voice of the first assistant engineer.
"G'wan with ye, now," he commanded, breathing heavily, as though from some violent physical exertion. "G'wan with ye, I say, or ye'll be findin' it mighty unhealthy fer ye. It's meself that'll be moppin' up the deck with ye if ye try to get gay once more."
The first assistant engineer was a mighty mountain of a man, but his voice broke off as the commotion started again. Certainly he must have a rough customer to deal with, thought Jerry, if he, with all his great physical strength, could not entirely quell him.
"Ye will, will ye?" hissed the voice of the engineer again. "Thry to bite me, eh?" and there was the terrible smash of a fist, and the unmistakable sound of a man falling upon the deck. "Ye dirty hound, I've a mind to boot ye into the sea."
And then there were other voices. Jerry heard the captain demanding an explanation, and the ship's doctor spoke.
"I found him tamperin' with the wires near the dynamos," the first assistant engineer was saying. "I niver liked his looks annyway, if ye'll pardon me, sir, fer sayin' it. And whin I asked him what he was about, he thried to git away. I grabbed him, and he showed fight. I guess I give 'im all he wanted, though, that last time."
"So?" said the captain, in a voice so stern it made Joe wince. "And what does this fellow do aboard the ship?"
"He's a third-class machinist, sir," the engineer replied. "But if ye'll excuse a word from me, sir, I think he's a first-class crook."
"Yes, and I believe he's worse than that," the captain added; and then, in a voice which seemed to shake the vessel: "Stand up!"
There was a strained silence for a moment. Then—