The boatswain was pleasantly surprised—­his impression being that everybody on deck must have been washed away a long time ago.  He asked eagerly where the Captain was.

The second mate was lying low, like a malignant little animal under a hedge.

“Captain?  Gone overboard, after getting us into this mess.”  The mate, too, for all he knew or cared.  Another fool.  Didn’t matter.  Everybody was going by-and-by.

The boatswain crawled out again into the strength of the wind; not because he much expected to find anybody, he said, but just to get away from “that man.”  He crawled out as outcasts go to face an inclement world.  Hence his great joy at finding Jukes and the Captain.  But what was going on in the ’tween-deck was to him a minor matter by that time.  Besides, it was difficult to make yourself heard.  But he managed to convey the idea that the Chinaman had broken adrift together with their boxes, and that he had come up on purpose to report this.  As to the hands, they were all right.  Then, appeased, he subsided on the deck in a sitting posture, hugging with his arms and legs the stand of the engine-room telegraph—­an iron casting as thick as a post.  When that went, why, he expected he would go, too.  He gave no more thought to the coolies.

Captain MacWhirr had made Jukes understand that he wanted him to go down below—­to see.

“What am I to do then, sir?” And the trembling of his whole wet body caused Jukes’ voice to sound like bleating.

“See first . . .  Boss’n . . . says . . . adrift.”

“That boss’n is a confounded fool,” howled Jukes, shakily.

The absurdity of the demand made upon him revolted Jukes.  He was as unwilling to go as if the moment he had left the deck the ship were sure to sink.

“I must know . . . can’t leave. . . .”

“They’ll settle, sir.”

“Fight . . . boss’n says they fight. . . .  Why?  Can’t have . . . fighting . . . board ship. . . .  Much rather keep you here . . . case . . .  I should . . . washed overboard myself. . . .  Stop it . . . some way.  You see and tell me . . . through engine-room tube.  Don’t want you . . . come up here . . . too often.  Dangerous . . . moving about . . . deck.”

Jukes, held with his head in chancery, had to listen to what seemed horrible suggestions.

“Don’t want . . . you get lost . . . so long . . . ship isn’t. . . . . 
Rout . . .  Good man . . .  Ship . . . may . . . through this . . . all
right yet.”

All at once Jukes understood he would have to go.

“Do you think she may?” he screamed.

But the wind devoured the reply, out of which Jukes heard only the one word, pronounced with great energy “. . . .  Always. . . .”

Captain MacWhirr released Jukes, and bending over the boatswain, yelled, “Get back with the mate.”  Jukes only knew that the arm was gone off his shoulders.  He was dismissed with his orders—­to do what?  He was exasperated into letting go his hold carelessly, and on the instant was blown away.  It seemed to him that nothing could stop him from being blown right over the stern.  He flung himself down hastily, and the boatswain, who was following, fell on him.