We sat in the galley and morosely drank beer and considered how best to draw our wills.
"Hey, look!" Molock gasped, painting toward the plastite window.
At first glance it seemed to me that the whole Venusian race had put in its appearance. There were hundreds of Venusians, thousands of them, coming from all directions. Shad Brisbee had called in his pals from miles around and they were all heading our way.
Wilkerson's face went white. "This looks like the end, boys," he said.
"Nah!" Molock answered. "They'll never get through the hull. I'll figure out something."
"You had better get your slide rule into action. Uh! What was that?"
That was the ship lurching as if it was about to turn over. From the ports, we could see what was happening. Venusians were on both sides of the ship. Those on one side were pushing while those on the other side were pulling. When the ship settled back, the ones on the second side pushed like hell, setting up a rhythmic rocking motion that was rapidly threatening to turn the ship over.
"You could turn over a mountain like this!" Wilkerson whispered, as the ship lurched. "My God! They're going to try to roll the whole damned ship into the swamp."
On one side of Shad Brisbee's dancing ground was jungle. On the other side was a deep pool of muddy water. Staring at it, Wilkerson seemed to talk out of a trance. "Drowned, like rats in a trap, in my own ship!" He took a deep breath, turned to Molock. "Go out and bluff Shad Brisbee now!"
Molock also took a deep breath and rose to his feet. "I'll just go do that," he said, moving toward the lock.