nder that has knocked us into umbrella-frames! We've been
blown up about forty thousand feet! We're all one conjuror's watch
inside! My mate's arm's broke; my engineer's head's cut open; my Ray
went out when the engines smashed; and ... and ... for pity's sake give
me my height, Captain! We doubt we're dropping."

"Six thousand eight hundred. Can you hold it?" Captain Purnall overlooks
all insults, and leans half out of the colloid, staring and snuffing.
The stranger leaks pungently.

"We ought to blow into St. John's with luck. We're trying to plug the
fore-tank now, but she's simply whistling it away," her captain wails.

"She's sinking like a log," says Captain Purnall in an undertone. "Call
up the Banks Mark Boat, George." Our dip-dial shows that we, keeping
abreast the tramp, have dropped five hundred feet the last few minutes.

Captain Purnall presses a switch and our signal beam begins to swing
through the night, twizzling spokes of light across infinity.

"That'll fetch something," he says, while Captain Hodgson watches the
General Communicator. He has called up the North Banks Mark Boat, a few
hundred miles west, and is reporting the case.

"I'll stand by you," Captain Purnall roars to the lone figure on the
conning-tower.

"Is it as bad as that?" comes the answer. "She isn't insured, she's
mine."

"Might have guessed as much," mutters Hodgson. "Owner's risk is the
worst risk of all!"

"Can't I fetch St. John's--not even with this breeze?" the voice
quavers.

"Stand by to abandon ship. Haven't you _any_ lift in you, fore or aft?"

"Nothing but the midship tanks and they're none too tight. You see, my
Ray gave out and--" he coughs in the reek of the escaping gas.

"You poor devil!" This does not reach our friend. "What does the Mark
Boat say, George?"

"Wants to know if there's any danger to traffic. Says she's in a bit of
weather herself and can't quit station. I've turned in a General Call,
so even if they don't see our beam some one's bound to help--or else we
must. Shall I clear our slings. Hold on! Here we are! A Planet liner,
too! She'll be up in a tick!"

"Tell her to have her slings ready," cries his brother captain. "There
won't be much time to spare.... Tie up your mate," he roars to the
tramp.

"My mate's all right. It's my engineer. He's gone crazy."

"Shunt the lift out of him with a spanner. Hurry!"

"But I can make St. John's if you'll stand by."

"You'll make the deep, wet