“Ses three more journeys ’ll finish it.”
“Tell ’im ter ’urry ’em all along. The Old Man’s frettin’ ter get orf.”
The command was duly relayed, and the man at the winch spat on his hand and sent the cable swishing down for a second load.
Orace let himself down to arm’s length again and went on. The Tiger Cubs were working quicker than they had anticipated, and three more journeys, with at least two, if not three, of the ship’s boats on the job, wouldn’t take such a long time. It was not an occasion for dawdling.
Orace got well round to the stern and put a large ventilating cowl between himself and the men at the hatch before he ventured to return to the deck. Then he made a quick dash for the engine-room companion, and reached it unnoticed.
It is difficult to move silently over iron gratings, but Orace’s bare feet enabled him to go down unobserved until there was only a short ladder to descend before he reached the level of the motors. There was only one man below, and he was bending over, tinkering with a bearing. Orace had got that far before the man straightened up to look for a spanner, and in so doing discovered his peril. The engineer let out a shout which reverberated deafeningly in the confined space, but which would have been hardly audible outside, and rushed.
As he came on he wrestled with his pocket, where his gun must have got stuck. That fluke gave Orace all the respite he needed, and saved him having to shoot. He jumped, and his feet struck the engineer full in the chest. The two went down together, but the engineer’s body broke Orace’s fall, and the head which in a few seconds was pounded into insensibility against a cylinder-block was not Orace’s. . . .
Orace was about to leave—was, in fact, already climbing—when he had an inspiration, and returned. The stunned mechanic was of Orace’s own build. Orace commandeered the man’s cap and blue jeans, and, finding a convenient locker, pushed the engineer into it and turned the key. Thus equipped, Orace felt that he had a decided advantage—he would be able to move more freely about the ship, and, if he encountered any Tiger Cubs, he would be safe from challenge in the darkness until he had got close enough to make his distaste for their society effectively evident. Once more he began to make his way to the deck.
He was half-way there when he heard the tramp of heavy feet coming towards him. Orace turned and scuttled back. He kept his head averted and bent low over the nearest motor. The feet grated on the companion above him, and halted.
“All right down there, Joseph?”