began to glow like the filament in an electric light bulb, and this made the crew's work harder despite the rubber gloves they were wearing.
Fortunately, the glow was soon extinguished by a downpour heavier than anyone on board, with the exception of Jim Ironside, had ever experienced.
There was no room for any air between the raindrops - they were too close together - so they all had to put on masks and breathing apparatus.
Flashes of lightning and peals of thunder followed one another in quick succession,
the wind howled, and mast-high breakers deluged everything with foam.
With all engines running full ahead, the Argo inched her way forward against the elemental might of the storm.
Down below in the boiler rooms, engineers and stokers made superhuman efforts.
They had lashed themselves in place with stout ropes so that the ship's violent pitching and tossing would not hurl them into the open furnaces.
But when, at long last, the Argo and her crew reached the innermost eye of the storm, what a sight confronted them!
Gyrating on the surface of the sea, which had been ironed flat as a pancake by the sheer force of the storm, was a huge figure.
Seemingly poised on one leg, it grew wider the higher one looked,
like a mountainous humming-top rotating too fast for the eye to make it out in any detail.
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