His voice, strongly resembling a foghorn, arose in threat and expostulation unceasingly, and the miners, who evidently knew him well, and perhaps had previously tested the weight of his fist, were lamb-like and obedient to his control.
"They'll be quiet enough fer a while, leftenant," he managed to whisper hoarsely to me.

"But they is jest boys growed up, an' if eny one o' them should really take a notion ter raise hell, all the cussin' I might do wouldn't make no diffrance.

Whatever yer aim at, better be done right off, while I kin sorter keep 'em busy down yere; onct they git loose on the deck the devil himself couldn't stop 'em frum startin' a row." This advice was so good that I slipped instantly away, silently gained the door, and, unobserved, emerged on to the deserted deck without.
The sudden change in environment sobered me, and caused me to pause and seriously consider the importance of my mission.

Through the thin walls of the cabin the murmuring voices of those within became indistinct, except as an occasional loudly spoken oath, or call, might be distinguished.

The struggling _Warrior_ was close within the looming shadows of the western shore, and seemed to be moving downward more swiftly with the current, as though the controlling mind in the darkened wheelhouse felt confident of clear water ahead.