"You're interrup'in' the leadsman." It was one of the
quartermasters. Once again the lead flew forward. "By the mark,
seven, sir."
There was a pause; then came the voice again. "I go zees way," said
the quartermaster. The steps of the umbrella-man passed away aft.
"Zees way," said the quartermaster, under his breath, "zees way! You
gaw-dem Dago!" I could have hugged the fellow.
"What now?" said the old man, leaning over from the bridge. I cast
again. "And a half, eight, sir."
"We're clear," said the voice above me. "Speed ahead, Mr. Jenkins."
I gathered up my line. The engine-room bell clanged once more; the
ship seemed to leap suddenly forward. In a few seconds, even as I
coiled my line, the bow wash broadened to a roaring water. The white
of it glimmered and boiled, and spun away from us streaked with fires.
Across the stars above us the mists from the smoke-stack stretched in a
broad cloud. Below me the engines trampled thunderously. Ahead there
were the lights, and the figure of the look-out, and the rush and hurry
of the water. Astern, far astern already, were the port, the ships at
anchor, and the winking light on the Point.
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