It was rather appalling, but somehow or other the sight of the brave boy, equipped for mastering the mounting flames, caused a little cheer to arise from the excited passengers.
As soon as the prepared liquid from the little apparatus began to spread over the fire, its ardor was immediately checked. By the time Jerry rushed alongside, similarly equipped, Frank was getting the better of the conflagration.
“Don’t stop with the water, Captain Amos!” shouted Frank, knowing that if their extinguishers gave out before the fire was fully under control it might spring up again into new life.
“Away, boys! Hand up the buckets!” cried the captain.
Several of the male passengers, having by now partly recovered from their panic, started in to assist. Between the whole lot the water came faster, and in less than ten minutes the fire was practically out.
There had been some damage done, but nothing to seriously injure the steamboat; and a carpenter could make repairs while the vessel was covering a few daily runs in this balmy April weather.
Captain Amos now found a chance to rush up to Frank, and shake his hand vigorously.
He was a bluff chap, not much older than Frank, a very good steamboatman, only that he seemed apt to lose his head in a crisis, which after all, must be a grave fault.
“Bully for you, Frank! Your coming saved the boat, I believe. I’ll never forget it, I tell you. Was just about to lay hold of those fire extinguishers when your crowd forestalled me. It was a rough deal all around. With those women shrieking, and holding on to me, begging me to save them, a fellow might be excused for being a little slow to do the right thing. And you, too, Jerry and Bluff—shake hands!”
“What set the boat afire?” asked the curious Bluff, immediately.