CHAPTER IX.
FIGHTING THE FLAMES.
Old Jacob's loud cries soon aroused everybody. The first person to come up from below was Don, who looked as pale as a sheet.
"Is the yacht afire?" he gasped.
"The galley is," returned the old tar. "We've got to work lively if we want to save the Dashaway. Come; man the hose pump, while I get some buckets. And some of ye lower the sails. To run into this wind will only feed the flames."
By this time all the others were on deck, even Danny coming up, his head bound around with a towel.
"It's in de galley!" he groaned. "I fought dat fire was most out!"
He, too, ran for water, and so did Dick, while Leander and Bob began to work, first on the mainsail and then the jib, which, in less than two minutes were safely stowed away, although in a hasty, clumsy fashion.
Luckily the hose pump was handy, and soon a small stream was pouring into the galley from the window, the door having in the meantime been tightly closed, so that the fire might obtain no draught to feed upon. Then came old Jacob with some extra buckets, and a bucket brigade was formed by the old tar and Robert Menden.
It was hot work, and it must be confessed that everybody was thoroughly scared, feeling that if the fire once got beyond the galley, the yacht would be doomed.
"And what will become of us, then?" whispered Dick to Don. "We're completely out of sight of land."
"If the wust comes to the wust, we'll fill the small boat with provisions and take to that," said old Jacob. "But I think we can master these flames yet."
The sparks were now pouring from the windows of the galley at a lively rate, and soon a bright column of flame shot up.
"Dat's de pot uf grease!" groaned Danny. "I was so sick I didn't t'ink to put it away."
He was laboring as hard as any of them, working the hose pump with Don, who felt ready to drop with exhaustion.
"I'll go down in the hold and see if it's eating through the floor," said old Jacob, and disappeared through the hatchway.
All waited anxiously for what he might have to say. They heard him crawling about with care.
"No fire yet," he yelled. "But plenty of smoke. Work lively, an' keep it up, lads!" And then all hands went at it with renewed vigor.
Inside of five minutes their labors began to show some effect. The flames died away and only the thick smoke continued to pour from the galley.
"All of you fill your buckets, and then I'll open the door," said Dick, and his instructions were followed. At the draught a slight flame went up, but a single douse of water put it out; and then the conflagration was practically over.
But neither old Jacob nor any of the others were satisfied, and procuring a patch of old canvas, the Yankee tar soaked it thoroughly and then went into the galley alone and beat out all of the remaining sparks. Then lanterns were lit, and all hands took turns at inspecting the damage which had been done.
"It's not so great as I thought," said Dick. "The stove is all right, and all we'll have to do is to put up some new boarding on the sides and ceiling. But wasn't it a narrow shave!"
"That's what it was," answered Don, soberly. "I don't want another like it."
"Nor I," added Bob, and Leander shook his head doubtfully.
"I wonder how it started," was Robert Menden's question. "Danny, can you explain it?"
"Sure an' I can't, sur, savin' to say that I was sick, an' maybe I didn't put the fire out very good, sur;" and Danny looked as if he had committed the greatest, crime on earth. The origin of the fire was never fully explained, but probably Danny's view of it was correct.
The fire brought forth another lecture from old Jacob. "Ye can't be too careful, nohow," he said. "Ye want to see to it thet not a spark is allowed around. If the Dashaway had been burnt up, like as not most of us would have lost our lives."
"I am sure we'll all be careful in the future," said Dick.
"You kin bet I'll be on me guard, so I will," broke in Danny. "Dat fire most scared me into a fit, dat's wot it did."
The nights were now beautiful ones. A cloudless sky and millions of stars twinkled down upon the polished deck of the Dashaway as she bowled along before a steady breeze, which old Jacob declared was "jest about right, any way o' lookin' at it." It was cool, too, for that locality, and the balance of the trip promised to prove a most delightful one.
Passing along the Great Bahama Bank to the south of the Andros Islands, the course had been toward Acklin Island, on the southeast, and then past Providence Island, straight onward to a course five or six miles north of the upper coast of Hayti and Dominica.
"We might stop along the coast o' Dominica," observed old Jacob, one day, as he surveyed the distant coast line with his long telescope.
"I wouldn't stop unless it is necessary for stores," returned Robert Menden. "Remember, we want to get to Porto Rico just as quickly as possible."
"We have stores enough to last us to San Juan. I saw to thet afore we pulled up anchor at St. Augustine."
"Then we'll go right straight through," decided Dick; and as he was the owner of the Dashaway, that settled the matter.
But going right straight through was not such an easy matter as anticipated. Early on the following day a heavy fog set in, and by noon it was so thick that one could not see twenty feet ahead. At once old Jacob ordered the jib taken in, also the topsail, while the mainsail was closely reefed.
"This is one o' the wust places in the world fer a fog," was the Yankee tar's comment. "Afore ye know it if we ain't careful we'll run on a hidden bank. We must keep a strict watch, and keep the fog horn blowing until the fog lifts." And this was done, one and another taking his turn at the big horn until he was tired. Once, about seven o'clock, they heard an answering horn, which seemed to come closer and closer, but just as they felt they had good cause for alarm, the sound began to recede, until it was lost in the distance.
"This is reg'lar smugglers' weather," said old 'Jacob. "They love it, for they can land goods 'most anywhere, without the custom house officials being the wiser."
"Did you ever run across any smugglers?" questioned Don, who stood by.
"I did once—down on the coast o' Maine. They were bringin' in silk from Chiny, and I helped the revenue officers collar six o' 'em—strappin' big fellers, too. Three o' the crowd were shot in the mix-up and one o' 'em died in the hospital from his wounds. It was in that muss that I got that," and the old sailor pointed to a long scar along his neck.
"Excuse me, but I want nothing to do with smugglers," shuddered Don. "They must be a bloodthirsty set."
"Some o' 'em are, lad—yet they ain't half so bad as the wreckers—the chaps as sets up false lights along shore to lure a vessel to her doom, so as they kin loot her. Those are the chaps as ought to be hung, every mother's son on 'em!" and old Jacob shook his head decidedly.
It was not until thirty hours had gone by that the fog began to lift, raised by a gentle breeze which sent the Dashaway on her course as lively as ever before.
"Off once more!" shouted Bob. "Hurrah!" and the others joined in the cheer. It was calculated that two days more would bring them within eight of Porto Eico, at a point near Manati, a city located directly in the center of the northern coast, and but a few miles to the westward of San Juan.
But once again their hopes were doomed to disappointment. The wind lasted only until sunrise the next morning, then died out utterly, leaving the sun to boil down on the deck with more fierceness than it had shown for some time.
"Confound the luck!" growled Dick, as he gazed at the idle sails of his craft. "I wonder how long this is going to last.
"Why not whistle for a breeze," suggested Bob, slyly. "I've heard that will fetch it."
"All right, Bob, you whistle," replied Dick.
"I'll tell you what I'd like to do," said Don. "I'd like to take a swim before we go ashore at San Juan."
"Hurrah! just the thing!" cried Leander, throwing up his cap. "We'll all go in together!" And he rushed down to the cabin, to don his bathing trunks. All of the other boys followed, even Danny taking part.