There was nothin' for me to do save watch the
hawsers an' the Kite's tail squatterin' down in white watter when
she lifted to a sea; so I got steam on the after donkey-pump, an'
pumped oot the engine-room. There's no sense in leavin' waiter
loose in a ship. When she was dry, I went doun the shaft-tunnel,
an' found she was leakin' a little through the stuffin'box, but
nothin' to make wark. The propeller had e'en jarred off, as I knew
it must, an' Calder had been waitin' for it to go wi' his hand on
the gear. He told me as much when I met him ashore. There was
nothin' started or strained. It had just slipped awa' to the bed o'
the Atlantic as easy as a man dyin' wi' due warning - a most
providential business for all concerned. Syne I took stock o' the
Grotkau's upper works. Her boats had been smashed on the davits, an'
here an' there was the rail missin', an' a ventilator or two had
fetched awa', an' the bridge-rails were bent by the seas; but her
hatches were tight, and she'd taken no sort of harm. Dod, I came
to hate her like a human bein', for I was eight weary days aboard,
starvin' - ay, starvin' - within a cable's length o' plenty.
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