There was a hatch in the main deck amidships. He called two of the men and had it raised. The passengers as yet had no idea that anything was wrong, for Jessie and Nell kept away from them.
But they watched what the skipper did. He had brought an electric pocket torch from below and he flashed this before him as he descended the iron ladder into the hold. Almost at once, however, a whiff of smoke rose through the open hatchway.
"Glory be, Tom!" said one sailor to his mate. "What do you make of that?"
"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, Darryl" gasped Jessie. "The yacht is on fire!"