The ship was rolling badly. For the last ten days she had been on her best behaviour in that respect; but now she was making up for lost time. There was a high sea running, and the ship's alley-ways to the saloon were ankle-deep in water. With the glass falling rapidly the seas increased in violence. It was evident that the _West Barbican_ would receive a heavy dusting within the next few hours. "Hanged if I like the look of things, Preston," admitted Captain Bullock, sniffing the approaching storm from afar. "We're in for something." "We are, sir," agreed the Acting Chief. "And I'm not altogether satisfied with that steelwork. Bad enough cargo at any time, but I've an idea something's working adrift in No. 1 hold. I'll get Anstey to have a look at it." The Old Man concurred. "Tell the serang to warn the lascars," he added. "We don't want broken limbs and all that sort of thing." At an order a party of lascars assembled for the purpose of securing any of the cargo that might have broken adrift. Presently Anstey, wearing sea-boots, made his way along the lurching deck. He was not at all keen on this particular job. Hounding about in the semi-darkness of the hold and in momentary danger of being crushed by a mass of shifting metal was not a pleasing outlook. But it was duty, and Anstey was not a shirker. The lascars cast off a portion of the tarpaulin and removed the aftermost of the metal hatches, disclosing the rusty coaming and the upper portion of a vertical ladder of iron--or, to be more precise, a ladder that was nominally vertical. In present conditions it was swaying with the ship, and describing an erratic curve with a maximum heel of twenty degrees. Steadying himself by the coaming, Anstey felt with his left foot for the topmost rung. Then, gripping the sides of the ladder, he began the descent. Very little daylight found its way into the narrow space afforded by the displaced hatch. In fact Anstey soon found himself in gloom approaching total darkness. The air too, after being confined for weeks, was dank and distinctly unwholesome. There was an acute smell from the fumes given off from the red oxide with which the steelwork had been coated. With his rubber-soled boots slithering on the slippery rungs as the vessel rolled, and gripping strongly with both hands, the Third Officer descended until at length his feet came in contact with the metal floor of the hold. The din was terrific. Without, the seas were hammering on the comparatively thin hull-plating. Bilge-water was foaming and hissing in the cellular bottom, while the vibration of the engines--the noise intensified in the confined space--added to the turmoil.