Grand work at last! A number
of the SATURDAY REVIEW here; it reads so hot and feverish, so
tomblike and unhealthy, in the midst of dear Nature's hills and
sea, with good wholesome work to do. Pray that all go well to-
morrow.
'June 10.
'Thank heaven for a most fortunate day. At three o'clock this
morning in a damp, chill mist all hands were roused to work. With
a small delay, for one or two improvements I had seen to be
necessary last night, the engine started and since that time I do
not think there has been half an hour's stoppage. A rope to
splice, a block to change, a wheel to oil, an old rusted anchor to
disengage from the cable which brought it up, these have been our
only obstructions. Sixty, seventy, eighty, a hundred, a hundred
and twenty revolutions at last, my little engine tears away. The
even black rope comes straight out of the blue heaving water:
passes slowly round an open-hearted, good-tempered looking pulley,
five feet diameter; aft past a vicious nipper, to bring all up
should anything go wrong; through a gentle guide; on to a huge
bluff drum, who wraps him round his body and says "Come you must,"
as plain as drum can speak: the chattering pauls say "I've got
him, I've got him, he can't get back:" whilst black cable, much
slacker and easier in mind and body, is taken by a slim V-pulley
and passed down into the huge hold, where half a dozen men put him
comfortably to bed after his exertion in rising from his long bath.
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