While Andy was relating with whole-hearted praise the story of his companion's bravery, Ellerton was feeling his way along the narrow, heaving passage that communicated with the fore part of the ship.
At length he came to the engine-room hatchway. Down below he could see the mass of complicated machinery throbbing in the yellow glimmer of the oil lamps, while the hot atmosphere was filled with a horrible odour of steam and burning oil.
Here, at any rate, the men were doing their duty right manfully, for he could see the engineers, gripping the shiny rails as they leant over the swaying, vibrating engines, calmly oiling the bearings of the plunging rods and cranks. The "chief," his eyes fixed upon the indicators, was alertly awaiting the frequently recurring clank which denoted that the propeller was racing. For a few moments Ellerton stood there fascinated, the spectacle of an engine-room in a vessel in a storm was new to the lad, whose experience of the sea was confined to a sailing barque.
Suddenly above the monotonous clank of the piston-rods came a hideous grinding sound. The cylinders began to give out vast columns of steam, as the engines ran at terrifying speed.
Through the vapour Ellerton could discern the "chief," galvanised into extraordinary alertness, make a rush for a valve, while his assistants, shouting and gesticulating, dashed hither and thither amid the confined spaces between the quivering machinery.
The main shaft had broken, and the San Martin was helpless in the teeth of the hurricane.
CHAPTER II
AGROUND
For a brief instant Ellerton hesitated; ought he to return to his friends or make his way for'ard? The San Martin, losing steerage way, was rolling horribly in the trough of the sea; any instant she might turn turtle.