'"Stop 'er!" says the old man. I knew that voice; 'e was that narvous of his old tank. "Why, man, if we stop 'er, she'll roll over!"
'The seas was 'eavy, my word, considering where we was. She plunged and shook and creaked like a kicked tin can.
'"I'm edgin' of 'er in under Volcano," says the skipper. "I want more steam, not less."
'"By God, you can't 'ave it," said the engineer, as desperate as you like.
'"Play the 'ose on your blasted bearin's," pipes the skipper, with a voice like a bosun's whistle.
'"I'm playin' it," says the other.
'"Then you know what to do," squeaks the old man.
'And the engineer comes down tearin' 'is very beard. And I was took with a kind of a shiver, which was curious seeing that mostly sailormen never gives a damn what 'appens till the worst opens its mouth for 'em. I went down into the fo'c'sle and looked at Jack fast asleep, and Billy under 'im. There was only four of us for'ard, and they two was the starboard watch. That was the last time I saw more of 'em than their 'ands. I went on deck again, never wakin' 'em. And then I 'eard the engineer on deck again.
'"I'll 'ave to stop my engines," he cried, "or if I don't they'll stop theirselves. There's three bearin's sizzling, and the white metal's running, and the engine-room's full o' steam from the 'ose playin' on 'em."
'"You can't stop," said the skipper. And the wind blew like a blast out of a pipe; it squealed, and she stopped a'most dead.