“It was,” his cousin answered. “But we have put it out now. There is a good pump on board, and we pumped water on the blaze as soon as we saw it.”
From the hold, which was a place where canned food and other things could be stored, smoke was still pouring, and now and then little tongues of fire shot up. It was this fire which Mr. Bobbsey had seen through the open door of his stateroom.
“Oh, maybe it’s going to be an awful big fire!” said Freddie. “Maybe it’ll burn the whole boat up!”
“Freddie, Freddie! Don’t say such dreadful things!” broke in his mother. “We don’t want this boat to burn up.”
“I see where it is,” said Flossie. “It’s down in that great big cellar-like place where they keep all those things to eat—those boxes of corn and beans and salmon and sardines and tomatoes, and all the things like that.”
“Yes. And the ’densed milk!” put in Freddie. “And ’spargus. And the jam! And all those nice sweet things, too!” he added mournfully.
“What shall we do if all our food is burnt up?” went on Flossie.
“We can’t live on the boat if we haven’t anything to eat,” asserted Freddie. “We’ll have to go on shore and get something.”
“You might catch another big fish,” suggested his twin.
“Would you let me have your doll?”