Within, the sea, as if agitated by an internal commotion, leaped in
peaked mounds that jostled each other, slapping heavily against her
sides; and a low moaning sound, the infinite plaint of the storm's
fury, came from beyond the limits of the menacing calm. Captain MacWhirr
remained silent, and Jukes' ready ear caught suddenly the faint,
long-drawn roar of some immense wave rushing unseen under that thick
blackness, which made the appalling boundary of his vision.

"Of course," he started resentfully, "they thought we had caught at the
chance to plunder them. Of course! You said--pick up the money. Easier
said than done. They couldn't tell what was in our heads. We came in,
smash--right into the middle of them. Had to do it by a rush."

"As long as it's done . . . ," mumbled the Captain, without attempting
to look at Jukes. "Had to do what's fair."

"We shall find yet there's the devil to pay when this is over," said
Jukes, feeling very sore. "Let them only recover a bit, and you'll
see. They will fly at our throats, sir. Don't forget, sir, she isn't
a British ship now. These brutes know it well, too. The damned Siamese
flag."

"We are on board, all the same," remarked Captain MacWhirr.

"The trouble's not over yet," insisted Jukes, prophetically, reeling and
catching on. "She's a wreck," he added, faintly.

"The trouble's not over yet," assented Captain MacWhirr, half aloud
. . . . "Look out for her a minute."