The Second String. Gould Nat

watched him curiously, and then looked up at the bridge. Captain Seagrave was shouting through a trumpet to Slack, who heard him amidst all the din, and came towards him. Then there was a roar of words which were unintelligible to him, but which the chief officer understood, and hurried "forrard" again. It seemed easy for him to walk the deck; Jack tried the experiment, but as he let go his hold the ship lurched; he fell heavily, and a huge wave washed him into the centre of the vessel. He was unhurt, and laughed at his experience, but had no desire to try it again. All through the night the wind howled, and the seas swirled round the "Golden Land," in huge angry masses. When Jack staggered on deck again next morning he saw Captain Seagrave at his post on the bridge, braving the still furious elements, fighting them until they were beaten.

      "He's been there all night," said Sam Slack, as he shouted into Jack's ear; "you never catch our old man leaving the bridge in a gale like this. I'll be glad when we're out of it. So long as he sticks at it we stick at it for shame's sake. Mac's been down in the engine-room all night, and he's there yet. If strong language can keep his boilers going it'll be done. Mac's powerful in a storm, it kind of works him up, and he knows the engines are none too good, and want watching like babies. Where's your mate?"

      "Down below. He's very bad; wishes he was ashore, I think," said Jack laughing.

      Towards the afternoon the storm slackened, and Job Seagrave left the bridge. Jack followed him into his cabin.

      "You have had a rough night's work," he said. "I can quite understand now why the 'Golden Land' has made so many safe passages."

      Job smiled as he pulled off his oilskins.

      "It was pretty rough, I acknowledge; but we have been in many worse things in our time. As for me being on the bridge, I would not leave the old tub in any other hands; they'd smash her for a certainty – don't know her as well as I do. We understand each other, and when I give my orders, she obeys. Sam's all right, a real good sort, but she'd not do for him what she will for me."

      Mac came in, grimy, and mopping his face with a greasy rag.

      "I told 'em to let me know when you'd come off the bridge," he said. "You'll be the death of me some day. It's hell down below, and every minute I'm afraid there'll be a burst up."

      "Not with you in charge, Mac. I have been telling Mr. Redland the ship understands me better than any man on board, and it's the same with you and the engines."

      "Yours is a cooler job than mine," growled Mac.

      "I know you are always nice and warm," replied Job, "but think what an advantage it is in cold weather."

      "We never run into cold weather," replied Mac with a grunt. "Why don't you take a trip to the Arctic regions to give us a chance of getting even with you?"

      "I'll think it over," replied Job. "Meanwhile try this, it will do you good," and he poured out a stiff nip of whisky.

      Mac drained it at a gulp, and his eyes glistened.

      "One more will just about recompense me for a beastly night in the black hole," he said.

      Job laughed and gave him another.

      "Is this some of Sharp's stuff?" he asked.