Before anyone could offer any remark, the tank overflowed. Roche, attempting to point the hose overboard, slipped on the streaming deck. Still grasping the nozzle, he sprawled at full length, while a high-pressure jet caught the Tenderfoot full in the face, hurling him backwards into Flemming's arms, and simply soaked every Scout in the well.
Before anyone could go to Roche's assistance, gallons of water had flowed into the boat. The Italian seamen, who were leaning over the bulwarks, screamed with amusement, until Woodleigh, grasping the nozzle, directed the jet upwards into their faces. Then their laughter gave place to furious gesticulations.
"Turn off!" shouted Stratton to the invisible attendant at the hydrant.
There was no response. It was not until the Patrol Leader hoisted himself on to the Giuseppe Emilio's chain-plates and crossed her deck and sprang ashore that the flow of water ceased.
"You said two hundred gallons," said the man, pointing to the meter attached to the hydrant, "and you've had less than eighty."
"And at least half of that wasted," added Stratton. "Something's wrong somewhere."
There was. Subsequent examination of the tank, which was possible by removing a watertight cover-plate, resulted in the discovery of Flemming's eel with its head wedged firmly in the outlet pipe. Although its head had been half severed, the eel had contrived to insert his tail under the deck-plate, and had prised open the metal cover sufficiently to enable it to wriggle down the feed-pipe into the tank. Then in a futile attempt to escape, the eel had jammed its head into the outlet, thus preventing the water to flow.
"There's some satisfaction in finding out why the water failed," remarked Mr. Armitage as he retired to his cabin to change his saturated garments.