“He not in fire-room,” said Trolley.
“No. That voice——”
“De l’eau! de l’eau! de l’eau!”
The words floated up the opening as plainly as words can be spoken. But this time they seemed to come from the after end of the crew’s quarters.
Clif sprang down the ladder at great risk to his neck.
When the others followed they found him tumbling the hammocks about.
Trolley and Joy assisted him, but the three had only their labor for their pains. Not a sign of the mysterious stranger could they find.
“You fellows can do as you please,” suddenly announced Joy, “but this child is going on deck. Excuse me; I don’t want any French shades in mine. The old tank is—oh, lud!”
He broke for the ladder and scrambled from sight. From almost over his head had come a groan.
This time Clif was thoroughly startled. The place, the circumstances and the voice was too much for him, and he hastened after Joy with Trolley a close third.