He did not know yet whether the ship was entering some unknown straits or the mouth of a narrow land-locked bay. If the latter, the presence of the distant glaciers and the nearer torrents warned him of a possible bar, on which the Kansas might be lost within sight of safe anchorage. Not inspired guesswork now, but the skill of the pilot, was needed; this crossing the bar in broad daylight was as great a trial of nerve in its way as the earlier onward rush in the dark.
Wind and sea had abated so sensibly that the Pacific rollers raced on unbroken, and it was no longer a super-human task to make one’s voice heard along the deck.
So the captain aroused Walker with a sharp order:
“Go and see if the donkey-boiler has a good head of steam. We may have to drop the stream anchor quick, and both bowers as well. If Tollemache is doing his work properly, go forward, and keep a sharp lookout for broken water. Clear off the tarpaulins, and be ready to lower away the instant I sing out.”
Walker, who had been gazing spellbound at the majestic haven opening up before the ship, hurried on his errand. He found Tollemache seated on an upturned bucket, in which the taciturn one had just washed his face and hands.
“Have you seen it?” demanded Walker, gleefully, while his practised eyes took in the state of the gages and he overran a number of oil taps with nimble fingers.
“Seen what?” asked Tollemache, without removing his pipe.
“The land, my bonnie lad. We-ah wunnin’ wight in now.”
“We’ve been doing that for hours.”
“Yes, but this is diff’went. The’aw’s a fine wiv-ah ahead. Have ye ev-ah seen the Tyne? Well, just shove Sooth Sheels an’ Tynemouth a few hundwed feet high-ah, an’ you’ve got it. Now, don’t twy to talk, or you might cwack yo’ face.”