“That was lucky,” said Orde briefly to Aspinwall. “How's the damage? Stove you in?”
“I—I don't think so,” replied the captain, turning a rather perturbed face to Orde.
“That's good. I'll send over the tug to help get her afloat. We've got our work cut out for us now. As soon as you're afloat, blow your whistle and I'll come over to tell you what to do.”
“You don't expect me to work my driver under the face of that jam!” cried the captain.
“Certainly,” snapped Orde, wheeling.
“Not me!” said Aspinwall positively. “I know when I've got enough!”
“What's the matter?” asked Orde.
“It isn't safe,” replied the captain; “and I don't intend to risk my men or my driver.”
Orde stood for a moment stock-still; then with a snort of anger he leaped to the deck, seized the man by the neck and thrust him bodily over the side to the bank.
“Safe, you white-livered skunk!” he roared. “Safe! Go over in the middle of that ten-acre lot and lie down on your face and see if you feel safe there! Get out; the whole pack of you! I'm in charge here now.”