But it was not for that that Rex had given alarm.
The violent motion had unshipped the Primus stove from its gimbals and the fierce blue flame had burnt a considerable part of the fo'c'sle floor, notwithstanding the wet state of the boards. It was owing to the latter circumstance that the fire was not more serious. As it was, Peter replaced the stove, taking care to release the air and quickly beat out the flames with a damp towel.
CHAPTER XXIV
OVERBOARD
The Thetis, although out of immediate danger, was in a pitiable plight. The wind was still fresh and the sea had worked up into quite a nasty turmoil. The damaged jib had already been lowered and unshackled from the traveller, but the jackyard topsail still fluttered bannerwise from the mainmast head. The torn mainsail, too, was shaking violently as the wind whistled through the long rent in the centre cloth.
"We'll have to get that topsail down," declared Mr. Clifton. "I'll go aloft. Stand from under, Peter."
If the truth be told, Mr. Clifton did not feel any too confident over the job. Active enough in most respects, he did not relish work aloft. On previous occasions his paid hand undertook tasks of that description. Yet he was quite ready to essay the work of sending the obstinate topsail down on deck.
"I'll go, sir," volunteered Peter.
Mr. Clifton looked very pleased, but the next moment he realised that the job was a dangerous one.