And all that while the little "Dimbula" pitched and chopped and swung
and slewed, and lay down as though she were going to die, and got up
as though she had been stung, and threw her nose round and round in
circles half a dozen times as she dipped, for the gale was at its
worst. It was inky black, in spite of the tearing white froth on the
waves, and, to top everything, the rain began to fall in sheets, so
that you could not see your hand before your face. This did not make
much difference to the iron-work below, but it troubled the foremast a
good deal.

"Now it's all finished," he said, dismally. "The conspiracy is too
strong for us. There is nothing left but to--"

"Hurraar! Brrrraaah! Brrrrrrp!" roared the steam through the foghorn,
till the decks quivered. "Don't be frightened below. It's only me,
just throwing out a few words in case any one happens to be rolling
round to-night,"

"You don't mean to say there's any one except _us_ on the sea in such
weather?" said the funnel, in a husky snuffle.

"Scores of 'em," said the steam, clearing its throat. "Rrrrrraaa!
Brraaaaa! Prrrrp! It's a trifle windy up here; and, great boilers, how
it rains!"

"We're drowning," said the scuppers. They had been doing nothing else
all night, but this steady thresh of rain above them seemed to be the
end of the world.