“It’s about as bad a blow as we’ve been in since we were in the service,” agreed Ned; “but a ship like this is in no danger. It is just uncomfortable, that’s all, and we will have to put up with it like sailors till it decides to quit.”
“That’s so, I suppose,” said Herc, “but I’m getting sick of being wet through all the time.”
“You’re no worse off than any of the rest of us, Herc,” laughed Ned; “and say, by the way, have you noticed a peculiar odor about the ship for the last few hours?”
“A sort of rotten-eggy smell?” asked Herc.
“Well, I suppose that describes it as well as anything else. But, Herc,” and here Ned came close to his comrade, “I’m almost sure that the odor is that of coal gas.”
“Coal gas! Where from?”
“From the coal bunkers, of course.”
“What of it?”
“Just this, that I think we ought to investigate. I don’t want to cause an alarm without due cause, but if there is coal gas coming from the bunkers, it means only one thing.”
Herc was struck by the gravity of Ned’s voice. He faced around on him.