On reaching the deck they found the lanky cadet leaning against the conning tower and looking rather foolish. He evaded their gaze and pointed astern.
The action of the waves had brought the distant sail in that direction.
Clif gave an exclamation of keen disappointment.
“She’s passing!” he said. “She’s much further away. We must do something if we want to attract her attention.”
He paused only to see that the sailing launch was still in view, then he began to tug away at the iron hatch leading to the after fire-room. It required considerable effort to open it, but the iron hatch yielded at last, revealing a perpendicular ladder leading into a dark space below.
Clif’s anxiety to start a signal caused him to forget his previous fears. With a cheery “come on, fellows,” he dropped down the ladder.
It was the after of the two fire-rooms with which Le Destructeur was provided. The small furnace—small in comparison with the general run of men-of-war furnaces—occupied the greater part of the compartment.
The fire-box door swung open, clanging back and forth with each roll of the hull. Scattered about were heaps of coal and ashes. Over in one corner was a pile of oily waste.
Seizing an armful, Clif thrust it into the fire-box, then he began to search his pockets. He looked up with a laugh as Trolley and Joy descended the ladder.