“Oh, I’m all right,” returned Brook. “I don’t believe in being put out about any think; I’m ready to help anywheres; and I’d begin at once if I knowed where I could do any good. And if the ‘governor’ (referring presumably to Mr Dale) makes any fuss, I shall roll ’im up in a blanket like a parcel and take care of ’im myself.”
A thin vapour of smoke was by this time rising from the companion, accompanied by a strong and quite unmistakable smell of fire; and in a minute or two more Captain Staunton, in his shirt sleeves, appeared on deck and called forward for more water.
“There is rather more of it than we at first thought, lads,” he said; “but stick steadily to your work and we’ll conquer it yet.”
The gang at the fire-engine was rapidly relieved; a fresh shanty was struck up; the chain of men with buckets got to work; and the quickened clank clank of the engine handles showed that the crew were still confident and determined.
“Now is our time,” exclaimed Lance to Brook; “cut in here,” as a rather wide gap in the chain of bucket-men revealed itself just at the head of the saloon staircase; and in another moment both were hard at work, with their coats off, passing buckets.
Another twenty minutes might have elapsed when Captain Staunton and the carpenter staggered together up the saloon staircase to the deck, gasping for breath, their clothes and skin grimy with smoke, and the perspiration streaming down their faces.
“Send two fresh hands below, if you please, Mr Bowles,” shouted the skipper; “and you, lads, drop your buckets, and lend a hand here to cut some holes in the deck; the fire is spreading forward, and we must keep it to this end of the ship if possible.”
Two of the most determined of the crew at once stepped forward and volunteered to go below; Captain Staunton nodded his permission, and led them to the scene of their labours; while the chain of men who had been passing buckets along the deck dropped them, and, under the carpenter’s supervision, at once commenced the task of cutting through the deck. The smoke was by this time pouring in volumes up the companion and through the skylight. Lance had been too busy to take much notice of this whilst engaged in passing the buckets; but now that a respite came he had time to look about him. He saw the great dun cloud of smoke surging out of the companion and streaming away to leeward; and he saw indistinctly through it at intervals a small group gathered together aft by the weather taffrail. He thought he would join this group for a moment, if only to ascertain whether the girls had succeeded in securing such things as they were most anxious to save; and he sauntered toward them in his usual easy and deliberate manner. As he drew near Violet rose and said—
“Oh, Mr Evelin! I am so glad you are come; I was beginning to feel quite anxious about Blanche—but where is she; I do not see her with you?”
“She is not with me, Miss Dudley,” answered Lance; “what led you to suppose she would be?”