It stood very low — incredibly low, so low that Captain MacWhirr grunted. The match went out, and hurriedly he extracted another, with thick, stiff fingers. There was no mistake. It was the lowest reading he had ever seen in his life. Perhaps something had gone wrong with the thing! There was an aneroid glass screwed above the couch. He turned that way, struck another match and discovered the white face of the other instrument looking at him from the bulkhead, meaningly, not to be gainsaid, as though the wisdom of men were made unerring by the indifference of matter. There was no room for doubt now. The worst was to come, then — and if the books were right this worst would be very bad.