wain by his
side kept on yelling. "What? What is it?" Jukes cried distressfully; and
the other repeated, "What would my old woman say if she saw me now?"

In the alleyway, where a lot of water had got in and splashed in the
dark, the men were still as death, till Jukes stumbled against one of
them and cursed him savagely for being in the way. Two or three voices
then asked, eager and weak, "Any chance for us, sir?"

"What's the matter with you fools?" he said brutally. He felt as though
he could throw himself down amongst them and never move any more. But
they seemed cheered; and in the midst of obsequious warnings, "Look
out! Mind that manhole lid, sir," they lowered him into the bunker. The
boatswain tumbled down after him, and as soon as he had picked himself
up he remarked, "She would say, 'Serve you right, you old fool, for
going to sea.'"

The boatswain had some means, and made a point of alluding to them
frequently. His wife--a fat woman--and two grown-up daughters kept a
greengrocer's shop in the East-end of London.

In the dark, Jukes, unsteady on his legs, listened to a faint thunderous
patter. A deadened screaming went on steadily at his elbow, as it were;
and from above the louder tumult of the storm descended upon these near
sounds. His head swam. To him, too, in that bunker, the motion of the
ship seemed novel and menacing, sapping his resolution as though he had
never been afloat before.

He had half a mind to scramble out again; but the remembrance of Captain
MacWhirr's voice made this impossible. His orders were to go and see.
What was the good of it, he wanted to know. Enraged, he told himself he
would see--of course. But the boatswain, staggering clumsily, warned him
to be careful how he opened that door; there was a blamed fight going
on. And Jukes, as if in great bodily pain, desired irritably to know
what the devil they were fighting for.

"Dollars! Dollars, sir. All their rotten chests got burst open. Blamed
money skipping all over the place, and they are tumbling after it head
over heels--tearing and biting like anything. A regular little hell in
there."

Jukes convulsively opened the door. The short boatswain peered under his
arm.

One of the lamps had gone out, broken perhaps. Rancorous, guttural cries
burst out loudly on their ears, and a strange panting sound, the working
of all these straining breasts. A hard blow hit the side of the ship:
water fell above with a stunning shock, an