Staggering along the narrow passage, for the erratic movement of the hold was totally different from the heave and pitch to which Anstey was accustomed on deck, the Third Officer made his way cautiously forward, critically examining the metal gripes that secured the awkward cargo.
Suddenly he stopped. A cold perspiration stood out on his forehead. Danger, imminent danger, stared him in the face. Danger not only to himself but to the ship and her passengers and crew.
Three feet above his head a huge girder was chattering and quivering. The chain that secured it to its fellows had at one time been set up by a massive bottle screw. Possibly the thread was an easy one, but, in any case, the constant working of the ship had caused the bottle screw to "run back". It was now holding by a couple of threads at the most, and momentarily the securing chain might fly asunder.
Anstey realized what that meant. The fifty-ton girder would crush and pulp him to a jelly. Not only that; it would to a certainty start the bottom plates of the hull and shatter the bulkheads of No. 1 hold as well. That meant that the West Barbican would plunge like a stone to the bed of the Atlantic.
Thrusting the barrel of his torch under the strap of his peaked cap, Anstey replaced the headgear, jamming it on so that the peak was over his right ear. That gave him a direct light to work with.
Then, pulling out the marline-spike of his knife, and holding it between his teeth, Anstey began to scale the precarious wall of steel until he could tackle the almost disjointed bottle screw.
It seemed an eternity climbing that five or six feet. To his agitated mind it seemed as if the girders were already slipping bodily upon him. As his toes sought an insecure hold he could feel the steelwork trembling. With each lurch of the vessel to starboard the bottle screw strained, until the young officer felt certain that the last two threads had stripped and the last restraining bonds had been loosed.
At last he found himself in a position to tackle his task. With one foot resting on a girder on one side of the passage, and the other on the opposite side, and steadying himself as best he could with his left hand, Anstey inserted the point of the marline-spike in the slot of the bottle screw.
Then he began to turn the locking device, slowly and firmly.