"Jackson!" he shouted. "Turn out. There's fire aboard."
Mr. Jackson, awake in an instant, came on deck. He had drawn on his sea-boots, and had thoughtfully brought Mr. Armitage's with him.
"Shove these on," he said. "It's no joke standing on burning embers with bare feet."
The two Scoutmasters shouted down the hatchway, but there was no reply. The skipper and two hands of the drifter lying alongside, aroused by the commotion, came up and scrambled on the Rosalie's deck.
"Hang on to the slack!" exclaimed Mr. Armitage, bending a line round his waist and handing the coil to his companion.
Without hesitation he descended the fo'c'sle ladder. The air was thick with smoke, but, by keeping his mouth tightly shut, the Scoutmaster was able to make his way to the nearest bunk.
With a powerful heave he lifted the sleeper and brought him on deck. It was Hepburn, torpid and on the verge of unconsciousness.
Four times Mr. Armitage fought his way below, each time returning with one of his lads, until Mr. Jackson interposed.
"My turn," he said firmly. "You've had enough."
Flemming and Stratton were the last of the crew to be brought on deck. The Oxford Scoutmaster made another descent, to return with Bruin in his arms. Even as he did so the smouldering stuff, fanned by the draught, burst into flames.