Up reared the stern, lifting the propeller clear of the water. The
engines expending their force in air, raced free. The clatter was
infernal; the pistons seemed trying to jump out of the cylinders, while
the throws and eccentrics lost all semblance of good order.

"Oh, damn!" cried Sam, who, being hurled to the iron floor, swore as
though he enjoyed it.

Whitey Welch, the fireman, burst into a huge guffaw, in which Sam
finally joined.

"You're all right down here," laughed Dan, "as happy as a sewing
circle! There may be some pulling to do later."

"You get something to pull; we'll tend to the rest," and Sam Crampton
grinned.

Emerging on deck, Dan collided with Pete Noonan, the deck-hand, with
shoulders as big as Dan's and a bigger chest. Pete smiled genially.

"This'll put hair on yer teeth, eh, Cap'n, this will," he said, while
from the galley below floated Arthur's voice in a deep sea chanty:

"I'll go no more a-roaming,
No more a-ro-o-o-a-ming with you, fair maid."

"Go on back to harbor, you little lobster pot; we'll take care of the
wreck."