He was grateful for this light respite from the heat of the hole, but his joy faded when the man opened a door and he stood at last before the chief, Douglas Campbell, who looked up at the burly Irishman in a long silence.
The scion of the ancient and glorious clan of the Campbells had fallen far indeed.

His face was a brilliant red, and the nose, comically swollen at the end, was crossed with many blue veins.

Like Milton's _Satan_, however, he retained some traces of his original brightness.
Harrigan knew at once that the chief engineer was fully worthy of joining those rulers of the south seas and harriers of weaker men, McTee and White Henshaw.
"Stand straight and look me in the eye," said Campbell, and in his voice was a slight "bur-r-r" of the Scotch accent.
Harrigan jerked back his shoulders and stood like a soldier at attention.
"A drinkin' man," he was saying to himself, "may be hard an' fallen low, but he's sure to have a heart." "So you're the mutineer, my fine buck ?" Harrigan hesitated, and this seemed to infuriate Campbell, who banged a brawny fist on a table and thundered: "Answer me, or I'll skin your worthless carcass!" The cold, blue eyes of Harrigan did not falter.

They studied the face of the Campbell as a fighter gauges his opponent.
"If I say 'yes,'" he responded at length, "it's as good as puttin' myself in chains; if I say 'no,' you'll be thinkin' I'm givin' in, you an' McTee, damn his eyes!" Campbell grew still redder.
"You damn him, do you?
McTee is Scotch; he's a gentleman too good to be named by swine!" The irrepressible Harrigan replied: "He's enough to make swine speak!" Amazement and then a gleam of laughter shone in the eyes of the chief engineer.

He was seized, apparently, by a fit of violent coughing and had to turn away, hiding his face with his hand.