“You see,” he went on, quite gravely, “a rivet, and especially a rivet in your position, is really the one indispensable part of the ship.” The Steam did not say that he had whispered the very same thing to every single piece of iron aboard. There is no sense in telling too much. And all that while the little _Dimbula_ pitched and chopped, and swung and slewed, and lay down as though she were going to die, and got up as though she had been stung, and threw her nose round and round in circles half a dozen times as she dipped, for the gale was at its worst. It was inky black, in spite of the tearing white froth on the waves, and, to top everything, the rain began to fall in sheets, so that you could not see your hand before your face. This did not make much difference to the ironwork below, but it troubled the foremast a good deal. “Now it’s all finished,” he said dismally. “The conspiracy is too strong for us. There is nothing left but to—” “_Hurraar! Brrrraaah! Brrrrrrp!_” roared the Steam through the fog-horn, till the decks quivered. “Don’t be frightened, below. It’s only me, just throwing out a few words, in case any one happens to be rolling round to-night.” “You don’t mean to say there’s any one except us on the sea in such weather?” said the funnel, in a husky snuffle. “Scores of ’em,” said the Steam, clearing its throat. “_Rrrrrraaa! Brraaaaa! Prrrrp!_ It’s a trifle windy up here; and, Great Boilers! how it rains!” “We’re drowning,” said the scuppers. They had been doing nothing else all night, but this steady thrash of rain above them seemed to be the end of the world. “That’s all right. We’ll be easier in an hour or two. First the wind and then the rain. Soon you may make sail again! _Grrraaaaaah! Drrrraaaa! Drrrp!_ I have a notion that the sea is going down already. If it does you’ll learn something about rolling. We’ve only pitched till now. By the way, aren’t you chaps in the hold a little easier than you were?” There was just as much groaning and straining as ever, but it was not so loud or squeaky in tone; and when the ship quivered she did not jar stiffly, like a poker hit on the floor, but gave with a supple little waggle, like a perfectly balanced golf-club. “We have made a most amazing discovery,” said the stringers, one after another. “A discovery that entirely changes the situation. We have found, for the first time in the history of ship-building, that the inward pull of the deck-beams and the outward thrust of the frames locks us, as it were, more closely in our places, and enables us to endure a strain which is entirely without parallel in the records of marine architecture.” The Steam turned a laugh quickly into a roar up the fog-horn. “What massive intellects you great stringers have,” he said softly, when he had finished.