Mrs. Merrill and Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins looked to where Mary Jane pointed and Mr. Wilkins got up quickly and stepped up onto the little half deck.
But before he had had time to ask a question, the woman who was trying to work the pump, turned and replied to Mary Jane’s questions.
“The boat’s a-fire!” she called, “that’s the matter! The boat’s a-fire and the pump’s broke!”
Mr. Wilkins spoke up in a loud, firm voice, “But I think we can fix it at once if every one will sit still. Will the Captain please put to shore at once?”
But that was just what the Captain would not do. His crew had been trying for some minutes to get him to turn in toward the nearest shore, but he obstinately refused to do so.
“The pump’s broke,” he admitted, “but the fire ain’t much and we’ll get to dock all right—now jes’ don’t get excited, folks!”
As he spoke, little puffs of smoke rose from the engine room and the big pile of dry wood which had carelessly been piled too close to the firebox showed signs of bursting out into great flames.
The passengers, remembering the crowded boat, tried to sit still and be quiet and calm. But when they saw the twinkling lights of the city, still so very far away; felt the fading light and the dampness of the evening chill, and saw how far even the nearest shore of the wide river seemed to be, they couldn’t help noticing that there wasn’t a life belt or boat to be had. Almost everybody began to feel panicky.
And at that very minute Mary Jane began to cry. Not a loud panicky cry, but a low, sobbing cry that sounded very heartbroken.
“Don’t be afraid, little girl,” said the man next to her; “we’ll get you home safe some way!”