ven then; at least there was a lull, and even a reaction in
the right direction on the part of the males in the second class and
steerage. A huge Irishman at their head, they were passing buckets
towards the after-hold; the press of people hid the hatchway from
us until we gained the poop; but we heard the buckets spitting and a
hose-pipe hissing into the flames below; and we saw the column of white
vapor rising steadily from their midst.

At the break of the poop stood Captain Harris, his legs planted wide
apart, very vigorous, very decisive, very profane. And I must confess
that the shocking oaths which had brought us round the Horn inspired a
kind of confidence in me now. Besides, even from the poop I could see
no flames. But the night was as beautiful as it had been an hour or two
back; the stars as brilliant, the breeze even more balmy, the sea even
more calm; and we were hove-to already, against the worst.

In this hour of peril the poop was very properly invaded by all classes
of passengers, in all manner of incongruous apparel, in all stages of
fear, rage, grief and hysteria; as we made our way among this motley
nightmare throng, I took Ready by the arm.

"The skipper's a brute," said I, "but he's the right brute in the right
place to-night, Ready!"

"I hope he may be," was the reply. "But we were off our course this
afternoon; and we were off it again during the concert, as sure as we're
not on it now."

His tone made me draw him to the rail.

"But how do you know? You didn't have another look, did you?"

"Lots of looks-at the stars. He couldn't keep me from consulting them;
and I'm just as certain of it as I'm certain that we've a cargo aboard
which we're none of us supposed to know anything about."

The latter piece of gossip was, indeed, all over the ship; but this
allusion to it struck me as foolishly irrelevant and frivolous. As to
the other matter, I suggested that the officers would have had more to
say about it than Ready, if there had been anything in it.

"Officers be damned!" cried our consumptive, with a sound man's vigor.
"They're ordinary seamen dressed up; I don't believe they've a second
mate's certificate between them, and they're frightened out of their
souls."

"Well, anyhow, the skipper isn't that."

"No; he's drunk; he can shout straight, but you should hear him try to
speak."

I made my way aft without rejoinder. "Invalid's pessimism," was my
private comment. And yet the sic