“The gas!” yelled Nicky. “Get away! The gas!”
Senor Ortiga sensed the danger, and so did his brother. Both acted; the Don leaped back to the cockpit and began to scramble to its side, his brother trying to crawl out of the window.
It all happened in a fraction of a second—the match was in the air, the men were escaping, Nicky was leaping back toward Tew for he saw what was coming.
Tew, as the match landed, yelled in terror and began to climb from the cabin to the forward deck and there leaped into the water.
As he did so there was a flash, a roar and a seething, boiling pool of flaming gasoline covered the cabin floor around the engine!
Nicky, whose first instinctive impulse had been self-preservation, instantly thought of his chums in the cockpit—of Tom, bound—of Cliff, perhaps still insensible.
The men were being rounded up, by shouting navy men and those who helped. But of this, of the effort of Mr. Coleson to escape, of his capture, of the capture of the Don and of his brother, Nicky knew nothing.
His whole mind was fixed on one purpose.
He must get through a lake of seething flame to his chums!
The cockpit was a bare few inches above the floor level of the engine compartment, and so the gasoline had not spread; but the flame was licking the sides of the cabin, flaring through the windows, and, fanned by the speed of the vessel’s movement, bellied out aft over the boys.