“You can’t make nothing of smoke, but smoke,” returned the other man. “It’s just as useless as a pig’s squeal is to the butcher.”
But Jessie believed that the incident called for no humor. If there was a fire below——
“Hi, you boys!” came the muffled voice of Skipper Pandrick from below, “couple on the pump-line and send the nozzle end below. There’s something here, sure enough.”
As he said this another balloon of smoke floated up through the open hatch. It was seen from the station of the passengers. Darry jumped up and ran to the hatchway.
“What’s he doing? Smoking down there?” he demanded.
“It’s sure a bad cigar, boss, if he’s smoking it,” said one of the men, grinning.
“Oh, Darry!” gasped Jessie. “The yacht is on fire!”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed the young man, rather impolitely it must be confessed.
He started to descend into the hold. The skipper’s voice rose out of it:
“Get away from there! This ain’t any place for you, Mr. Darry. Hustle that pipe-line.”