“My God! To think that the wind could have such force!”
There was a terrific racket below decks, and fearing that one of the guns might have broken adrift from its tackles, Lieutenant Archer clambered into the gloomy depths, where a marine officer hailed him, announcing:
“Mr. Archer, we are sinking. The water is up to the bottom of my cot. All the cabins are awash and the people flooded out.”
“Pooh! pooh!” was the cheery answer, “as long as it is not over your mouth you are well off. What the devil are you making all this noise about?”
The unterrified Archer found much water between decks, “but nothing to be alarmed at,” and he told the watch below to turn to at the pumps, shouting at them:
“Come pump away, my lads! Will you twiddle your thumbs while she drowns the lot of you? Carpenters, get the weather chain-pump rigged.”
“Already, sir.”
“Then man it, and keep both pumps going. The ship is so distressed that she merely comes up for air now and then. Everything is swept clean but the quarterdeck.”
Presently one of the pumps choked, and the water gained in the hold, but soon the bluejackets were swinging at the brakes again, while Lieutenant Archer stood by and cheered them on. A carpenter’s mate came running up to him with a face as long as his arm and shouted:
“Oh, sir, the ship has sprung a leak in the gunner’s room.”