"Doesn't look as if there were much time to think," he muttered
sardonically from under his hand.

"No, sir," I said with some warmth. "Not on board a ship I could see.
But so many accidents have happened that I really can't remember what
there's left for me to work with."

Still half averted, and with his eyes concealed, he made unexpectedly a
grunting remark.

"You've done very well."

"Have I the two anchors at the bow, sir?" I asked.

"Yes."

I prepared myself then, as a last hope for the ship, to let them both
go in the most effectual manner, when his infernal system of testing
resourcefulness came into play again.

"But there's only one cable. You've lost the other."

It was exasperating.

"Then I would back them, if I could, and tail the heaviest hawser on
board on the end of the chain before letting go, and if she parted from
that, which is quite likely, I would just do nothing. She would have to
go."

"Nothing more to do, eh?"