There were now three lines of hose pouring water on the flames, which the boys could not see. That the blaze was not succumbing so quickly as had been hoped for, was evident by the shouts and excitement that came from the depths of the ship.
“Tell ’em to give us more water!” yelled the captain to the boys waiting above.
Frank rushed with the order, glad to escape the smoke, which was momentarily growing thicker.
“Tell him he’s got all the water I can give him!” shouted the engineer, above the noise of the clanking machinery. “One of the pumps has gone out of commission!”
Frank shouted what the engineer had said to Captain Wiggs, below in the darkness.
“Then we’ve got to batten down the hatches and turn live steam into this hold!” was what the commander called back. “Tell him to get up a good head!”
Frank did so. When he returned Captain Wiggs was just making his way out of the hold. He was black, and smoke-begrimed, while he dripped water from every point of his yellow garments.
“Is there any danger?” asked Ned.
“There always is with a fire aboard a ship,” answered the commander. “But I think we’ll be able to hold her down if we get plenty of steam. Come on up, men,” he added, and the sailors scrambled up. They looked more like colored, than white men.
Captain Wiggs acted quickly. When the last man was up, the hatches, or coverings to the hold, were fastened down, and tarpaulins, wet with water, to make them air tight, were spread over the top. Then, from pipes which ran into the hold from below, and which were for use in emergency, jets of live steam were blown into the compartment.