“Surely. But, Ned, great Scott, this is a mighty serious thing if you’re right!”
“Serious! That’s no name for it. That is why I want to make dead sure before I report my suspicions.”
The two boys made their way, not without difficulty, to the port ventilating pipes mentioned by Ned. These pipes are especially designed to ventilate the coal carried in necessarily large quantities by cruising battleships.
As almost everyone is aware, there is no more dangerous cargo than coal, especially if it has been loaded while damp. Spontaneous combustion is the dreaded foe of all colliers, and a modern battleship carries to the full as much coal as the ordinary collier. No wonder, then, that every precaution is taken to guard against the combustion of the dangerous cargo.
“Now,” said Ned, as they approached the ventilators, “do you notice how much stronger the odor is here?”
“I should say I did. It smells like the old furnace did at home when something went wrong with it.”
Ned went up to one of the ventilators and poked his face against the opening. He staggered back coughing and choking. As he did so, from the ventilator’s mouth came a tiny wisp of yellowish-green smoke. It was instantly whipped away by the wind. But both boys had seen it. There was no longer room for any doubt.
The constant rolling and plunging of the ship combined with the dampness of the coal taken on at San Francisco, had caused spontaneous combustion to be set up, and the port bunkers of the Manhattan were on fire!
“There’s no doubt about it now,” breathed Ned to Herc, in what was almost a whisper.
He knew to the full what a grave situation faced them. Of course, the lucky fact that he had discovered the fire before it had, presumably, made much headway, was in favor of its quick suppression. But it was not a thing to be faced lightly.