Swarms of rats were skimming up the slippery planks.
They were invading the forecastle and the forecastle deck.

They came in an irresistible army, though, fortunately for Iris's continued sanity, the greater number scurried into the darkness of the men's quarters.
She was watching them with fascinated eyes, though not daring to withdraw her head from under the coat, when she heard a ghastly yell from beneath, and an erie face appeared above the stairway.

It was Watts, mad with fright and drink.
"Save me! save me!" he screamed, and the girl shuddered as she realized that the man did not fear death so much as he loathed the scampering rats.

He had no difficulty in climbing the steep companion, though, by reason of the present position of all that was left of the _Andromeda_, its pitch was thrown back to an unusual angle.

He scrambled up, a pitiable object.