Quickly the chief went to his assistant, who was puttering around the recently raked fire box, and delivered the order.
In evident reluctance to leave before the cause of the lack of water had been discovered, the man obeyed.
“Mate, tell the coal passers and firemen to go on deck and cool off,” continued the captain, “and you, chief, go above and bring down some extension lights, wrenches, and whatever else you think we may need.”
Now that the danger of the boiler exploding was over, the firemen and coal passers were loath to go above, all being eager to learn the cause of the difficulty. Captain Perkins, however, was determined that only his highest officers should share the knowledge when it was ascertained, and he hastened the ascent of the lagging passers with a few curt orders.
“How about this boy, sir?” inquired the second mate, nodding at Ted.
Ere the skipper could reply, the first mate slid down the ladder, and after a hasty glance at the raked fire asked:
“What’s wrong, skipper?”
“I don’t know. Water got low in No. 3 boiler. Ah, here’s Morris. Help him adjust his extension lights and then we’ll find out.” Springing forward, the two mates took the coils of insulated cable, with wire-encased bulbs on one end, and quickly adjusted the other end to the sockets of the stationary electric lights and turned on the current.
“You take one lamp, Morris, and I’ll take the other,” said the skipper. “Adams, you and Hansen make ready to examine the flues in case we don’t find any—”
“Wait a minute, Captain Perkins, wait a minute,” called a voice from the hatchway, and looking up, those below beheld Phil, a paper fluttering in his hand.