A stream of
water sought the outlet and the flame came no more then.
Suddenly a cry came from one of the men, and all eyes turned to a point
in the bulkhead where a hectic flush glowed like a death's head. Four
streams struck it simultaneously. It went out, but reappeared in
another place. The water quenched this also, but it came back again
and widened, and the plunging water was dried to mist at the instant of
contact. The glow grew brighter, then dim, and then brighter, rising
and falling as life pulses in a fevered body. A flood of smoke choked
in from a viewless breach. Two of the men cried out, gurgled, fell on
their faces, and turned over on their backs, struggling; then they lay
still. Dan carried them to the deck, and returned with a sailor. The
two had just gained the sugar sacks when the centre bulkhead quivered.
A cross section collapsed into a V. A score of rivet holes yawned wide
and red-hot bolts fell on the sacks and set them on fire. A line of
plating, separating from its fellows, sagged open in a red grin and
gave view of the raging hell within.
"Now, into it, boys!" yelled Dan, and the men, bowing their heads,
advanced five feet, directing the streams into the fiery pit. For a
minute the flames were driven back by the concentrated rush of water;
two minutes, and then a gush of fire flared through the break.
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