“You, there!” he shouted at Jerry James. “You with the fire extinguisher—over here! Now, then, through the smoke here onto that table!”
With his head picturesquely swathed in an undershirt which he kept removing to soak with water, Captain West was a romantic figure as he rushed up and down the passageway directing the fire fighting.
“Water!” he would thunder. “More water!” Or else: “You ax men, get busy in the mess hall! Chop up those tables and benches and get the wood abovedecks!”
Seeing him, hearing him, Sandy wished that Captain West was as loyal as he was commanding.
But there was little time for Sandy to waste in admiration of the skipper. All of these things that he witnessed passed through his mind in one swift, crowding instant—and then he too leaped into action.
The moment that Sandy rushed up there had been a loud explosion in the galley, and one of the ax men was thrown back against the bulkhead by the force of it. He slumped to the deck, unconscious, and his ax slipped from his hand.
Quick as a flash, Sandy seized the ax and joined the men at work in the mess hall, while two others quickly jumped to obey the skipper’s orders to remove the stricken man to a safe place. With a thrilling surge of confidence in the strength of his lean-muscled body, Sandy Steele began to swing his ax. His first stroke went whistling through the air and the ax blade bit deep into the thick wood of a bench. With a wrench requiring all of his power, Sandy yanked it free. Once again, he drove the blade downward.
Swish! Crack!
The bench split in two. Quickly, shortening his grip on the ax handle like a batter dragging a hit, Sandy stroked twice, backward and forward, and the bench had become a neatly stacked pile of kindling. With a glance of admiration, one of the crewmen scuttled forward, seized the bundle of sticks in his arms and carried them topside.
Meanwhile, as the men with the axes steadily demolished the mess-hall furniture, getting it safely out of harm’s way, the fire in the galley seemed to rage higher and higher. The heat in the passageway was now intense. The naked torsos of the fire fighters gleamed in the reflected light of the flames, and rivulets of sweat marked their course down flesh blackened by the greasy smoke. As the roar of the flames grew louder and louder, the expression of concern on Captain West’s face grew deeper.