“You know best how you fixed things down below. The fire may have burned the straw all up without lighting the ceiling of the vessel.”
At least ten minutes had elapsed since the match had been applied to the combustibles, and it was certainly time that the fire should begin to appear in the steerage. But there was no fire, and not even the smell of fire, to be perceived. The conspirators were astonished at the non-appearance of the blaze; and after waiting ten minutes more they were satisfied that the fire was not making any progress.
“It is a failure again,” said Bark Lingall. “There will be no conflagration to-day.”
“Yes, there will, if I have to set it a dozen times,” replied Bill Stout, setting his teeth firmly together. “I don’t understand it. I certainly saw the blaze before I left the hold; and I couldn’t have done the job any better if I had tried for a week.”
“You did it all right, without a doubt; but a fire will not always burn after you touch it off,” answered Bark, willing to console his companion in his failure.
“I will go down again, and see what the matter is, at any rate. If I can’t get up a blaze in the hold, I will see what I can do in one of the mess-rooms,” added Bill stoutly.
“How can you get into one of the mess-rooms?” asked Bark. “You forget that we are locked into the brig.”
“No, I don’t forget it; but you seem to forget that we can go down into the hold, and go up by the forward scuttle into the steerage.”
“You are right, Bill. I did not think of that,” said Bark. “And you can also go aft, and up by the after scuttle into the cabin. I remember now that there are three ways to get into the hold.”