Brennan leaped to the telegraph and signaled the engine-room.  He was calm now, and his voice was sharp and steady.

“Go below, Mr. James, and find the extent of the damage,” he directed, and a moment later the hull began to throb once more to the thrust of the propeller.  Inside the wheelhouse Swan had recovered from his panic and repeated the master’s orders mechanically.

The second and third officers arrived upon the bridge now, dressing as they came, and they were followed by the chief engineer.  To them Johnny spoke, his words crackling like the sparks from a wireless.  In an incredibly short time he had the situation in hand and turned to O’Neil, who had been a silent witness of the scene.

“Glory be!” exclaimed the captain.  “Most of our good passengers are asleep; the jar would scarcely wake them.”

“Tell me where and how I can help,” Murray offered.  His first thought had been of the possible effect of this catastrophe upon his plans, for time was pressing.  As for danger, he had looked upon it so often and in so many forms that it had little power to stir him; but a shipwreck, which would halt his northward rush, was another matter.  Whether the ship sank or floated could make little difference, now that the damage had been done.  She was crippled and would need assistance.  His fellow-passengers, he knew, were safe enough.  Fortunately there were not many of them—­ a scant two hundred, perhaps—­and if worse came to worst there was room in the life-boats for all.  But the Nebraska had no watertight bulkheads and the plight of his twenty horses between decks filled him with alarm and pity.  There were no life-boats for those poor dumb animals penned down yonder in the rushing waters.

Brennan had stepped into the chart-room, but returned in a moment to say: 

“There’s no place to beach her this side of Halibut Bay.”

“How far is that?”

“Five or six miles.”

“You’ll—­have to beach her?”

“I’m afraid so.  She feels queer.”

Up from the cabin deck came a handful of men passengers to inquire what had happened; behind them a woman began calling shrilly for her husband.

“We touched a rock,” the skipper explained, briefly.  “Kindly go below and stop that squawking.  There’s no danger.”

There followed a harrowing wait of several minutes; then James, the first officer, came to report.  He had regained his nerve and spoke with swift precision.

“She loosened three plates on her port quarter and she’s filling fast.”

“How long will she last?” snapped Brennan.

“Not long, sir.  Half an hour, perhaps.”