and Mr
Preddle rushed back into the shelter of the main-mast, from behind which
he had suddenly appeared.

"Oh, I say, Mr Dale," he shouted, "you shouldn't!"

The stream of water had come with a sudden rush, and struck him full in
his smooth, plump, round face.

I tried to say, "I beg your pardon," but I was choking with laughter and
could not speak. But I could act, for I rapidly changed the nozzle back
to my right hand, and directed it down at the spot I had selected for my
attack, and as the clear, bright jet of water struck the smouldering
cargo the effect was startling.

That fire might almost have been some fierce, dragon-like monster,
suddenly attacked by its most deadly foe, for in an instant there was a
savage hiss, followed by a series of crackling explosions, sputtering,
popping, and shrieking even. For the steam began to generate and rush
up from the hold, instantaneously changing from its natural invisibility
to dense white clouds of vapour, which rose and spread, and grew so
thick that I could not see where to direct the jet of water, but had to
trust to my ear for the spot to attack.

"Hurray! hurray!" came faintly from forward, where the pump clanked
steadily; and I responded to the cheer, but my voice was stilled by the
hissing and shrieking arising from the hold. But I cheered again, and
kept on, feeling quite excited, and more and more as if I were attacking
a den of dragons, or serpents, so strangely unusual were the noises
which followed every fresh direction of the stream.

"I say, Dale, you shouldn't, you know," came from close by me, in a tone
full of protest; and I quite started to see Mr Preddle's face looming
out of the mist in which I was closely enveloped, and which grew more
and more dense each minute.

"I didn't do it on purpose," I shouted.

"Oh, don't say that, Dale," he cried back, the voice sounding very
peculiar through the hissing and shrieking of the steam. "I am quite
ready to forgive you, my dear boy."

"But I didn't really," I yelled.

"Oh, Dale, don't--don't! Why, I saw you take aim at me with that thing
across this dreadful gap."

"I--can't talk--now," I shouted. Then, contradicting myself,--"Going to
help pump?"

"Yes; but what a fearful noise!--and you have made me so wet."

"How are you getting on?" shouted Mr Frewen. "That's right."

I could not see him for the steam; but his voice came from the other
side of the deck, and I must have altered the d