I awaited the approach of the boatswain with inexpressible anxiety. After an interval I saw his figure come up the poop ladder.
"Pumps suck!" he roared out.
"Hurrah!" I shouted. "Down with you for grog all round," for the other two were following the boatswain. But they all came aft first and stood near the wheel, blowing like whales, and Miss Robertson joined the group.
"If it's no worse than this, bo'sun," I exclaimed, "she'll do."
"Aye, she'll do, sir; but it's hard work. My arms feel as though they wos tied up in knots."
"So do mine," said the steward.
"Shall I take the wheel?" asked Cornish.
"No; go and get some grog and turn in, all of you. I am as fresh as a lark, and will stay here till twelve o'clock," I replied.
The steward at once shuffled below.
"Boatswain, ask Mr. Royle to let me take the wheel," said Miss Robertson. "He has been talking to me for the last half-hour and sometimes held the wheel with one hand. I am sure I can hold it."