"Come on, lads!" Sullivan shouted above the infernal din. "We'll be drowned in this hell-hole!"
In the next second he was half-way up the ladder, below him, clinging to the rungs like frightened apes, hung other stokers.
"Come back, you fool!" Neville shouted. "Open that deck-door, and you'll swamp the ship!"
Dan continued to climb.
"Come down or I'll fire!"
"Shoot an' be damned to you!" Dan called back.
The report of Neville's revolver was lost in the noise; but the bullet, purposely sent high, spattered against the steel plate above Dan's head. He looked down. Neville, swaying with the pitching floor, was aiming true for his second shot. Cursing at the top of his voice, Dan scrambled down the ladder, pushing the men below him to the floor.
"Back to your boilers!" Neville ordered; but the stokers, huddled in a frightened group, refused to leave the ladder.
It was only a matter of seconds now before the fires would be drenched. Bilge-water was splashing against the under boiler-plates, filling the room with dense steam. Neville left the men and raced for the engine-room. He found Larry and the oiler working desperately at the valve-wheel of the circulating pump. Neville grasped the wheel, and gave the best he had to open the valve. This manifold, connecting the pump with the bilges, was intended only for emergency use. It had not been opened for months, and was now rusted tight. The three men, straining every muscle, failed to budge the wheel. After the third hopeless attempt, Larry let go, and without a word bolted through the passage to the fire-room.
"You miserable quitter!" Neville screamed after him, and bent again to the wheel.