[Dead Men Tell No Tales by E. W. Hornung]@TWC D-Link book
Dead 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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