“Then I am doing some good, sir?”
“Good? Yes; you are winning the fight. I must get back now, and relieve Mr Preddle. I left him and the doctor pumping.”
I did not hear him go, but when I spoke again there was no answer, and I devoted all my energy to my task, though it had become so monotonous that my thoughts began to stray, and I found myself wondering how matters were going in the cabin—whether they were very much alarmed by the noise of the steam, or whether they felt as confident as the mate did about our ultimate mastery of the fire, and how Walters and Mr Denning were.
Just then a gruff, familiar voice came out of the steam behind me.
“Mr Brymer’s orders, sir, as you’re to hand me the nozzle, and go aft and get a refresher. Says you must be choked enough.”
“Did he order me to go, Bob?” I said.
“That’s it, sir. Give’s hold.”
I handed the nozzle.
“Talk about a fog,” he cried; “this is a wunner. I say, Mr Dale.”
“Yes.”