“Now, my lads,” said Kettle, “you’ve got to hump yourselves, or we’ll have the steamer swamping beneath us. It’ll be touch and go, anyway. Mr. Onslow, you will have the deck all to yourself—after you’ve done your job on the forehold, of course; and you’d better jump lively after that at once. Every gill of water tells now, and it strikes me if we get very much more of the Mexican Gulf on board the decks will blow up, and she’ll go down like kentledge ballast.” Onslow darted away through the doorway. “And now, Mister Sullivan, understand that although I still continue to rate as skipper of this craft, for the present I’m going to work as fireman and coal-trimmer. You will be chief engineer; and I’m the sum total of your crew; and between us we’ve got to do the work of seven horses and one mule. Are the bilge-pumps clear?” “Yes, sor.” “And has she still a good head of steam?” “She has. None’s been blown off.” “Then pick up your feet and let’s go to your hardware shop and start in work.” “Wait a bit, sor,” said the donkeyman. “There’s things here I don’t understand. Aren’t the lives of us in beastly danger? Didn’t them boats go off because the steamer’s sinking?” “Do you,” retorted Kettle, “consider me one of those fancy sorts of maniac, who have no wish to survive the loss of a ship? I tell you I should have been drowned eight times already if that had been my lay. No, Mr. Chief, fair fight’s right enough, and I’d stand up to Nick in that, and value my life at less than a rice-mat; but, at other times, you bet, I’m no fool to chuck it away.” “But,” said the donkeyman, “what gets me’s this. If the blooming steamer’s bottom’s shot out, what’s the fun in messing with it? The Mexican Gulf will circulate through that hole longer than our bilge-pumps will run.” “You tire me,” said the little man. “Who said she’d her bottom blown out? I tell you this steamer was sunk a few plates above her usual trim—for reasons; and now we are going to pull her up again. See here, do you take the synch from me, Mr. Chief, and ask no more questions, and you’ll get told no lies. It’ll pay you. If you do as you’re bid aboard of me you’ll have sovereigns enough given you to work through the biggest spree that was ever spread out in a seaport town.” The big donkeyman appreciatively drew the back of a hand across his muzzle. “Ah, Captain dear,” he said coaxingly, “I’d just like to hear ye mention a figure.” “Call it two ten-pound notes.” “Then, be Christopher, I’m yer man for any piece of devilment in the calendar! Come along, Captain dear. ’Tis a melojious little man y’ are, for all they say against yez.”