'
Here the smoking-room turned round as one man, and looked through the
windows.
'In the man's own words, "just when the fog was thickest, the engines
broke down. They had been doing this for some weeks, and we were too
weary to care. I went forward of the bridge, and leaned over the side,
wondering where I should ever get something that I could call a ship,
and whether the old hulk would fall to pieces as she lay. The fog was
as thick as any London one, but as white as steam. While they were
tinkering at the engines below, I heard a voice in the fog about twenty
yards from the ship's side, calling out, 'Can you climb on board if
we throw you a rope?' That startled me, because I fancied we were going
to be run down the next minute by a ship engaged in rescuing a man
overboard. I shouted for the engine-room whistle; and it whistled about
five minutes, but never the sound of a ship could we hear. The ship's
boy came forward with some biscuit for me. As he put it into my hand,
I heard the voice in the fog, crying out about throwing us a rope.
This time it was the boy that yelled, 'Ship on us!' and off went the
whistle again, while the men in the engine-room--it generally took the
ship's crew to repair the _Hespa's_ engines--tumbled upon deck to
know what we were doing.
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