“Hasn’t he, though? My head tells me a different story. He knocked me away from the wheel because I wouldn’t give it up to him, and tried to run the boat on the snag that sunk the Barleycorn.”
Mr. Black was profoundly astonished. He looked toward Bob, who nodded his head significantly, and then began to inquire into the particulars of the case. By dint of much questioning (the boys could not tell their story connectedly, one being somewhat muddled and the other greatly excited and alarmed), he finally gained a pretty good idea of what had happened in the pilot-house during his absence. He made no comments, but, having learned all he wanted to know, devoted himself entirely to the work of steering the vessel, and at the same time he seemed to be thinking busily. George sat by Bob’s side on the bench, gradually recovering from the effects of his struggle with the captain, and at the end of half an hour declared that he was all right, with the exception of a slight headache.
“Well, you had better go down and sleep it off,” said the pilot.
“O, no!” replied George; “I want to steer. You must remember, Mr. Black, that I shall not have many more opportunities to handle the wheel. As soon as we reach St. Louis, I shall——What’s that?”
The pilot and the two boys held their breath and listened.
“That’s so; what is it?” exclaimed Mr. Black; and had there been light enough in the pilot-house to enable the boys to distinguish his features, they would have seen that his face was as pale as death. There was the sound of a terrible commotion below, which was plainly heard above the puffing of the exhaust pipes, and the pounding of the paddle-wheels. Hoarse voices shouted out hurried commands, and uttered cries of alarm; heavy feet ran to and fro; and then suddenly a greater uproar arose in the cabin, as if the passengers had been aroused from their sleep to find themselves confronted by some terrible danger. A moment afterward one of the engineers on watch shouted one word through the trumpet leading from the lower deck to the pilot-house, which almost paralyzed two of those who heard it, and explained it all.
“Fire!” shouted the engineer.
The two boys sprang to their feet in great dismay, and, for a few seconds, stood looking at each other, without possessing the power to move or speak. Bob knew, instinctively, that something dreadful had happened, but he did not fully realize the danger of their situation.
“He don’t—he can’t mean to say that the boat is on fire!” he managed to gasp, at last.
“That’s just the trouble,” answered Mr. Black.