The Old Man shouted through the speaking-tube to the engine-room. There was no response.
Just then, in the glare of the lightning, he caught sight of Anstey, who, awakened by the explosion, had hurried to the bridge in his pyjamas and uniform cap.
"Nip below, Mr. Anstey, and see the extent of the damage," he ordered.
Anstey turned to obey. At the head of the bridge-ladder he encountered Crawford, the engineer of the watch.
"Nice sort of night to be in the ditch, laddie," exclaimed Crawford, as he elbowed his way past the Third Officer. "How far is to land, anyway?"
Crawford was on his way to report to the bridge. He had been flung violently on the bed-plates when the explosion occurred. Upon regaining his feet he found the engine-room in darkness save for the feeble glimmer of an oil lamp. Water was pouring in like a sluice through a rent in the after bulkhead that separated the engine-room from No. 3 hold. The firemen, panic-stricken, were bolting on deck. Neither by words nor action could Crawford stem the human tide of affrighted Asiatics.
Quietly he made his way to the platform and awaited orders from the bridge. The telegraph remained silent, the indicator on the dial still pointing to "Full Ahead".
By this time the water in the stokeholds was damping the fires, and Crawford deemed it prudent to shut off steam and open the escape valves in order to avert an explosion of the boilers.
Knee deep in the oily water that slushed to and fro as the ship rolled, the engineer of the watch groped his way through clouds of steam until his self-appointed task was done. Then, after shouting in case anyone else had remained below, he effected his retreat and at once made for the bridge to report to the Old Man.
"She's going, Mr. Preston," declared Captain Bullock.