The man wound a guiding arm around the deck officer, and together, they made their way aft along the rail.
Sam glanced at Sandy Steele and Jerry and shouted, “You two—we need your help. Come over here. That’s right, pay out the line.”
The two lads let go their tight hold on their safety lines and came over to the torn hatch, turning around and around to unwind their ropes.
“Now,” Sam shouted again, cupping his hands so that he could be heard above the storm and the rattling of the ship. “Now, we can’t waste any more time rushing over to the rail every time we ship a little water. That last wave must have poured a couple of tons of water into the hold. A few more like that, and we’ll be down in Davy Jones’s locker. Here’s what we’re going to do.
“We’ve got eight men left and two sledge hammers. So, Gunnar here takes one hammer and I take the other. While we’re hammering down the hatch cover, you three hold Gunnar,” he said, pointing to a trio of seamen, “and you three hold me.” He pointed to Sandy and Jerry and a fourth seaman. “If the water comes over the side again, well, we’ll just have to ride it out. You men secure yourselves to those bits. And for gosh sakes,” he yelled, his husky voice rising to full volume, “don’t anybody let go of Gunnar or me when the water hits!”
Quickly, Sandy and Jerry did as they were ordered. They fastened themselves to those stubby, mushroom-shaped iron pegs that are called bits. Then, Jerry and the other seaman wound their arms around Sam’s powerful legs and Sandy, because he was the tallest, grabbed him by the waist.
Sam and Gunnar got to work.
Their hammers clanged rapidly against the stubborn steel, forcing it down at a steady but agonizingly slow pace. Sandy marveled to feel the strength surging through Sam’s hard torso, as he hugged the sturdy seaman with all his might. Sam’s chest heaved and the muscles of his back bunched as he brought the heavy hammer up and down, up and down.
Soon, Sandy’s own body ached from the strain of holding Sam erect against the swaying and staggering of the James Kennedy. And the hole was being closed so slowly!
Once, a fair-sized wave swept suddenly over them. Sandy felt Sam go down under its onslaught, but he held him fast even though his body screamed in pain from the effort. The seaman and Jerry held on, too, and when the waters had spilled back into Lake Erie, a grinning Sam spat contemptuously and scrambled to his feet and swung his hammer again.