Ony rollin''s better than pitchin' wi'
superfeecial cracks in the tail-shaft. Calder knows that much,' I
said.
"'It's ill wark retreevin' steamers this weather,' said Bell. His
beard and whiskers were frozen to his oilskin, an' the spray was
white on the weather side of him. Pairfect North Atlantic winter
weather!
"One by one the sea raxed away our three boats, an' the davits were
crumpled like ram's horns.
"'Yon's bad,' said Bell, at the last. 'Ye canna pass a hawser wi'oot
a boat.' Bell was a vara judeecious man - for an Aberdonian.
"I'm not one that fashes himself for eventualities outside the
engine-room, so I e'en slipped down betwixt waves to see how the
Kite fared. Man, she's the best geared boat of her class that ever
left Clyde! Kinloch, my second, knew her as well as I did. I found
him dryin' his socks on the main-steam, an' combin' his whiskers wi'
the comb Janet gied me last year, for the warld an' a' as though we
were in port. I tried the feed, speered into the stoke-hole,
thumbed all bearin's, spat on the thrust for luck, gied 'em my
blessin', an' took Kinloch's socks before I went up to the bridge
again.
"Then Bell handed me the wheel, an' went below to warm himself.
Pages:
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375