[Dead Men Tell No Tales by E. W. Hornung]@TWC D-Link bookDead Men Tell No Tales CHAPTER II 8/19
The cigarette was snatched from his lips.
There was a commotion forward, and a cry came aft, from mouth to mouth: "The flames! The flames!" I turned, and caught their reflection on the white column of smoke and steam.
I ran forward, and saw them curling and leaping in the hell-mouth of the hold. The quarter-deck now staged a lurid scene: that blazing trap-door in its midst; and each man there a naked demon madly working to save his roasting skin.
Abaft the mainmast the deck-pump was being ceaselessly worked by relays of the passengers; dry blankets were passed forward, soaking blankets were passed aft, and flung flat into the furnace one after another.
These did more good than the pure water: the pillar of smoke became blacker, denser: we were at a crisis; a sudden hush denoted it; even our hoarse skipper stood dumb. I had rushed down into the waist of the ship--blushing for my delay--and already I was tossing blankets with the rest.
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