We sat rather silent through the meal--Mahon, the old
couple, and I. I finished first, and slipped away for a smoke, my cabin
being in a deck-house just against the poop. It was high water, blowing
fresh with a drizzle; the double dock-gates were opened, and the steam
colliers were going in and out in the darkness with their lights burning
bright, a great plashing of propellers, rattling of winches, and a lot
of hailing on the pier-heads. I watched the procession of head-lights
gliding high and of green lights gliding low in the night, when suddenly
a red gleam flashed at me, vanished, came into view again, and remained.
The fore-end of a steamer loomed up close. I shouted down the cabin,
'Come up, quick!' and then heard a startled voice saying afar in the
dark, 'Stop her, sir.' A bell jingled. Another voice cried warningly,
'We are going right into that barque, sir.' The answer to this was a
gruff 'All right,' and the next thing was a heavy crash as the steamer
struck a glancing blow with the bluff of her bow about our fore-rigging.
There was a moment of confusion, yelling, and running about. Steam
roared. Then somebody was heard saying, 'All clear, sir.' . . . 'Are
you all right?' asked the gruff voice. I had jumped forward to see the
damage, and hailed back, 'I think so.' 'Easy astern,' said the gruff
voice. A bell jingled. 'What steamer is that?' screamed Mahon. By that
time she was no more to us than a bulky shadow maneuvering a little
way off.
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