To let her sheer when she crossed a comber's top would break the rope.
The strain on the laboring engines indicated that the men held out and Lister fixed his thoughts on his machinery.

One could not see much, but while he turned the valve-wheel he listened.

If a bearing got hot or a brass shook loose, he would hear the jar.

An engine running as it ought to run was like a well-tuned instrument.
He heard no discord.

The heavy thud of the cross-heads, flashing between their guides, beat time to the clang of the valve-gear, a pump throbbed like a kettledrum, and something tinkled like a high-pitched triangle.
All went well, the engines were good and _Terrier_ stubbornly forged ahead.
By and by the strain was less marked.