"Though it's a fact that the second mate is no
good. D'ye hear, Mr. Jukes? You would be left alone if. . . ."
Captain MacWhirr interrupted himself, and Jukes, glancing on all sides,
remained silent.
"Don't you be put out by anything," the Captain continued, mumbling
rather fast. "Keep her facing it. They may say what they like, but the
heaviest seas run with the wind. Facing it--always facing it--that's the
way to get through. You are a young sailor. Face it. That's enough for
any man. Keep a cool head."
"Yes, sir," said Jukes, with a flutter of the heart.
In the next few seconds the Captain spoke to the engine-room and got an
answer.
For some reason Jukes experienced an access of confidence, a sensation
that came from outside like a warm breath, and made him feel equal to
every demand. The distant muttering of the darkness stole into his ears.
He noted it unmoved, out of that sudden belief in himself, as a man safe
in a shirt of mail would watch a point.
The ship laboured without intermission amongst the black hills of water,
paying with this hard tumbling the price of her life. She rumbled in
her depths, shaking a white plummet of steam into the night, and
Jukes' thought skimmed like a bird through the engine-room, where Mr.
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