Calling on the two millwrights to follow them, Phil and Serge made their way to the engine-room, where they found the engineer just rousing from a heavy sleep, which Phil strongly suspected had been aided by liquor.
“Mr. Sims,” said he, “what would be the effect if a cylinder-head should blow out under a full head of steam?”
“The effect?” replied the engineer, slowly, and evidently surprised at the question. “Why, any one who happened to be in range would be killed, all in this part of the boat would be more or less scalded, and the chances are that this expedition would come to a very sudden termination.”
“Of course yours is all right?”
“Certainly; I examined it only yesterday,” replied the engineer, testily. “Now, if you are through with your foolish questions, it seems to me you’d better notify the captain that everything is ready for a start. I don’t want to waste steam by blowing off, and there’s more on now than we ought to carry.”
“Would you mind stepping this way a moment?” asked Phil, taking the engine-room lantern and holding it back of the cylinder.
Moved by curiosity as to what the young seal-hunter could be up to, the engineer stepped forward, gave one look, and uttered a cry of horror. More than half the bolts holding the massive cylinder-head in place had been loosened.
“Upon my honor, I knew nothing of this thing, Mr. Ryder,” he gasped.
“Of course you didn’t,” answered Phil, grimly; “for it was done while you were sleeping off the effect of those brandied peaches. Where is Strengel?”
“He is aft somewhere. But surely, Mr. Ryder, you don’t suspect him of this dastardly act?”