The brothers were now at the gangway leading down to the float. Several men and boys who had been fishing off the end of the pier were gathered there, and it was they who had been shouting.
"Guess your boat's a goner," observed Captain Trent. "Bob has gone out to her."
There was now more smoke than fire aboard the Gull, but it seemed to the boys only a matter of a few seconds when the flames would again break out.
"Is there a pump? Has anyone a pump?" begged Frank.
"Here's a small one they use to get the bilge water out of their motor boats," said the dock master, for the pier was a station for a yacht club, and the dock-keeper lived in a small house on the pier. "It doesn't throw much of a stream, though."
"Better use pails," cried Captain Trent. "Here are a couple I use for clams. Take 'em along. The fire started sudden-like, when we were all standing here talking about the whale."
Andy and Frank did not stay to hear more. Quickly they shoved off in their skiff and were soon approaching the Gull, at the side of which Bob Trent now was.
"It's a lot of hay smoldering!" he shouted. "Maybe I can get it overboard with my boathook. Come on, fellows."
"Row! Row!" cried Frank, for Andy had the only available pair of oars.
"I am rowing as hard as I can. Hay on fire! We had no hay on our boat. Someone must have put it there and tried to burn it!"