"He says he'll take us in for ten pounds, sir," he reported, without
the vestige of a smile.
"Oh! Ask Mr. Hartley to step up on the bridge, will you?"
Two minutes later, during which the nasal howls from the boat were
utterly ignored, the acting chief engineer hauled himself along the
rail hand over hand to windward, ducking below the canvas guard as
a more than usually big comber split against the Puncher's side and
hove itself to heaven.
"It beats me how any man can keep a coat on him this weather," he
remarked, and the sublieutenant noticed that the streams that ran
down both his temples were not sea water. "Send for me?"
His temper, judging by his voice, would seem to be a lot worse than
could be due to the pitching of the ship.
"Yes. There's a pilot overside, and our orders are to take a pilot
aboard when running in, if available. There are three men bailing
that boat below there, and the sea's gaining on them. They'll need
rescuing within two hours. Then we'd have a pilot aboard and would
have saved the government ten pounds.
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