"I don't know about that, Chief. The Mouse is game."
"So's a trout; but it's got a damn poor show against a shark," the chief had added with a shrug.
Neville's watch went on duty shortly after the twin lights above Sandy Hook had dropped astern. The ship was then rolling heavily enough to make walking difficult on the oily floor of the engine-room; in the boiler-room, lower by three feet, to stand steady even for a moment was impossible. Here, in this badly lighted quarter of the ship, ill humor hung in the air thicker than the coal-gas.
Dan Sullivan, partly sobered, fired his boiler, showing ugly readiness for a fight. Larry, stoking next to him, kept a weather-eye constantly on his fellow-laborer.
Neville's men had been on duty only a few minutes when the engineer came to the end of the passage and called Larry.
"That's right," Dan growled; "run along, you engineer's pet, leavin' your work for me to do!"
Larry gave him no answer as he hurried away.
"Make fast any loose thing you see here," Neville ordered.
Larry went about the machinery-crowded room securing every object that a lurching ship might send flying from its place. When he returned to the fire-room he heard the water-tender shouting:
"Sullivan, you're loafin' on your job! Get more fire under that boiler!"