In the stoke-hold just ahead I could hear the Turks heaving in the coal, and I was glad at heart.
“You’ve got those fellows working for once,” I commented.
“I have that,” he replied. “I’ve woke up the day shift and have two men working on each boiler, and the gauge there tells the business.”
I followed his eye and watched the hand flicker with each stroke of the engine. Pound by pound the pressure from the boilers was shoving it up. When it reached 160, the chief gave the wheel that opens the valve in the main steam pipe from the boilers a half turn and said:
“Now count her revolutions.”
With my eye on the second hand of my watch, I counted “105, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12,” and snapped the lid with approbation.
“We’ve more coming yet,” grinned the sturdy little Greek.
His interest once aroused, he was doing his best. A moment later I counted 115.
“She did 117 on her trial trip,” volunteered the engineer, “and she’ll do it again if she holds together,” and he opened the valve to its full and screwed in the valve gear until he had the steam cut off to its minimum stroke to keep pace with the up and down racing of the pistons, while his second crawled about dropping oil in cupfuls on the working bearings to keep her from heating. The chief timed her himself. I watched him.
“What is she doing?” I asked, as he closed his watch.