"The tube to the bridge is out of commission," he called, "but I can raise the chief. He says no man can live on deck; one's gone overboard already. The second watch can't get out of the forecastle. It's up to us, men, to keep this ship afloat, and steam's the only thing that'll do it." For the next hour and the next the fire-room force and the two men in the engine-room stuck doggedly to their work. They knew that the _San Gardo_ was making a desperate struggle, that it was touch and go whether the ship would live out the hurricane or sink to the bottom. They knew also, to the last man of them, that if for a moment the ship fell off broadside to the seas, the giant waves would roll her over and over like an empty barrel in a mill-race. The groaning of every rib and plate in the hull, the crash of seas against the sides, the thunder of waves breaking on deck, drowned the usual noises below. The color of the men's courage began to show. Some kept grimly at their work, dumb from fear. Others covered fright with profanity, cursing the storm, the ship, their mates, cursing themselves. Larry, as he threw coal steadily through his fire-doors, hummed a broken tune. He gave no heed to Dan, who grew more savage as the slow hours of overtoil dragged by. About four in the morning Neville called Larry to the engine-room. On his return Dan blazed out at him: "Boot-lickin' Neville ag'in, was you? I'd lay you out, you shrimp, only I want you to do your work." Larry took up his shovel; as usual his silence enraged Sullivan. "You chicken-livered wharf-rat, ain't you got no spunk to answer wid?" Dan jerked a slice-bar from the fire and hurled it to the floor at Larry's feet. The little man leaped in the air; the white-hot end of the bar, bounding from the floor, missed his legs by an inch. Larry's jaw shot out; he turned on Sullivan, all meekness gone. "Dan," he cried shrilly, "if you try that again--" "Great God! what's that!" Dan's eyes were staring; panic showed on every face in the room. The sound of an explosion had come from the forward hold. Another followed, and another, a broadside of deafening reports. The terrifying sounds came racing aft. They reached the bulkhead nearest them, and tore through the fire-room, bringing unmasked fear to every man of the watch. The crew stood for a moment awed, then broke, and, rushing for the ladder, fought for a chance to escape this new, unknown madness of the storm. Only Larry kept his head. "Stop! Come back!" His shrill voice carried above the terrifying noise. "It's the plates bucklin' between the ribs." "Plates! Hell! she's breakin' up!" Neville rushed in from the engine-room.