Living Silver 



tipped with a hiss on the plates of the range. And yet it could be 

 done. Generations of cooks had done it. It was this thought alone 

 that made Jan persevere until, after only slight scalding, he 

 had almost a pint of the stuff in the mug in his hand. But, by that 

 time the telegraph was sounding. They were getting ready to 

 haul. 



Finch was just outside the galley preparing to knock the warps 

 out of the towing block. From in front of the wheelhouse came 

 the nois*^. of the winch turning slowly but not in gear. 'They do 

 that to clear the pistons of water. That way we're able to keep 

 them. Otherwise they might crack.' The wind was increasing. 

 They were veering slowly around athwart it. Clangs of the engine 

 telegraph, and again they shipped a big wave over most of the port 

 rail, but this time Jan was prepared for it and it swirled away 

 harmlessly into the scuppers from the level of his knees. The 

 wheelhouse had cleared his head. The galley had steamed his 

 clothes. They were now saturated in warm moisture. He was 

 reasonably comfortable and ready to do whatever was asked of 

 him. The wind, tangled as it was with threads of spray that seem- 

 ed more salt than wet, pushed him erect, exhilarated him. 



A few strokes of Finch's hammer and they had knocked out. 

 The fore warp jumped suddenly away then caught itself up, trem- 

 bling and tingling under the violence of its release, about ten feet 

 off from the port bulwark. And then the winch started in earnest, 

 a gruff mumble to begin with, than a hollow laboured panting that 

 finally gave way to a shrill cacophony of climbing and revolving 

 iron and steel. The scared snake in the after warp whipped past 

 Jan's feet, not more than a yard away, round the glistening groove 

 of the sheave, and off to the forward port bollard. 



He wanted to see the winches in action, so he slipped round to 

 starboard and ran forward over the plunging deck. But he had 

 barely time to catch more than a glimpse of the two fountains of 

 fine spray thrown up by the wetness of the hurrying warps when 

 Goldie yelled down at him through the absent window: 'What 

 the hell are you doing here? The after board will take care of 



38 



