The Captain made a sign of impatience, straightened up and shaded his eyes with one hand to shut off the light from the steamer; then gave a shout, and pointing toward the end of the peninsula, he plunged into the wheel-house and pulled the whistle-cord. MacGregor disappeared in the engine-room.
At the moment Du Bois was midway between the two steamers running along the wharf. He stopped now and retraced a few steps. “Hi, there!” he called to the men who were at work on the Number Two, “uncouple that hose and bring 'er up to the Number One.”
“What for?” asked some one.
“What for? You—you——— Hi, Cap'n Craig! I'm a-bringin' up the Number Two's line—— Will you have yours uncoupled for us? Now, you louts, gimme a hold o' the line. All together, now! Heave f'r it! Over the rail with 'er! Lay hold now, lively! Did you think you was a-sprinklin' the front yard an the tulip-bed? Ryan, if you fall over them feet of yourn again I'll be darned if I don't soak you. All together, now!— right in the solar plexus, b' th' divvel. Now heave! HEAVE! What's the trouble, there. Damn that Ryan! Say, you've got more feet to the square inch than any man a-walkin'. Here she is, Cap'n. Take off that nozzle, one o' you, while I couple 'er. Hold on, Robbie, we'll holler when we want water. Jest heave that Ryan overboard, a couple o' you. All right, Cap'n. Will we take the nozzle? Here we go, now! Run 'er out! Quick, there———You're the craziest lot o' hare-lipped bungholes I ever see!”
They were stretching out the hose to its fullest extent, but they were still some distance from the fire that now was roaring and crackling before them. Already they could hear the wind, swelling from a night breeze; it was whipping the flames into madness.
“Hi! Robbie! Let 'er go! Pass the word there Let 'er go!”
The men shouted; MacGregor responded; the flat line of hose swelled and writhed as the water was forced through. “Hold hard, Cap'n!” The nozzle was almost wrenched from their hands; the stream rushed out and curved high over the lumber.
“Are we a-gettin' at it?”
“I don't think so. I can't see. Here, work out into the roadway.”
“Lord, no, we ain't reachin' 'er by three rods. An' she's a-burnin' to beat the yellow devils. What's the matter with the boys? Damn it, they must think we're a-doin' it f'r fun! This ain't no Fourth o' July pyrotechnics.”