CHAPTER XXI--WORK FOR ALL

The skipper looked rather queerly at the two excited girls, but he went below with them without further objection. In fact, Skipper Pandrick was a man of very few words; he proved this when Nell opened the stateroom door and he saw the smoke swirling about the apartment.

"I reckon you girls ain't been smoking in here," he said grimly. "Then I reckon that smoke comes from below."

"Is the ship really on fire?" gasped Jessie.

"Something's afire, sure as you're a foot high," said the skipper vigorously, and stormed out of the stateroom and out of the cabin.

There was a hatch in the main deck amidships. He called two of the men and had it raised. The passengers as yet had no idea that anything was wrong, for Jessie and Nell kept away from them.

But they watched what the skipper did. He had brought an electric pocket torch from below and he flashed this before him as he descended the iron ladder into the hold. Almost at once, however, a whiff of smoke rose through the open hatchway.

"Glory be, Tom!" said one sailor to his mate. "What do you make of that?"

"You can't make nothing of smoke, _but_ smoke," returned the other man. "It's just as useless as a pig's squeal is to the butcher."

But Jessie believed that the incident called for no humor. If there was a fire below----

"Hi, you boys!" came the muffled voice of Skipper Pandrick from below, "couple on the pump-line and send the nozzle end below. There's something here, sure enough."

As he said this another balloon of smoke floated up through the open hatch. It was seen from the station of the passengers. Darry jumped up and ran to the hatchway.

"What's he doing? Smoking down there?" he demanded.

"It's sure a bad cigar, boss, if he's smoking it," said one of the men, grinning.

"Oh, Darry!" gasped Jessie. "The yacht is on fire!"

"Nonsense!" exclaimed the young man, rather impolitely it must be confessed.

He started to descend into the hold. The skipper's voice rose out of it:

"Get away from there! This ain't any place for you, Mr. Darry. Hustle that pipe-line."

"Is it serious, Skipper?" demanded the young collegian, anxiously.

"I don't know how bad it is yet. Tell the helmsman to head nor'east. Maybe we'd better make for some anchorage, after all."

Darry ran to the wheelhouse. The other passengers began to get excited. Nell ran to her father and told him what she had first discovered.

"Well, having discovered the fire in time, undoubtedly they will be able to put it out," said Dr. Stanley, comfortingly.

But this did not prove to be easy. Skipper Pandrick had to come up after a while for a breath of cool air and to remove his oilskins. Darry and Burd got into overalls and helped in handling the hose. The steam needed to work the pump, however, brought the engines down to a very slow movement. The _Marigold_ scarcely kept her headway.

The fire, which had undoubtedly been smouldering a long time, was obstinate. The water the skipper and his helpers poured upon it raised the level of water in the bilge until Darry declared he feared the yacht would be water-logged.

Meanwhile the wind grew in savageness. Instead of being gusty, it blew more and more violently out of the northeast. When the helmsman tried to head into it, under the skipper's relayed instructions by Darry, the lack of steam kept the old _Marigold_ marking time instead of forging ahead.

"If we have to put the steam to the pump to clear the bilge after this," grumbled the pessimistic Burd, "we'll never reach any shelter. Might as well run for the Bermudas."

"Won't that be fine!" cried Amy. "I have always wanted to go to the Bermudas, and we've never gone."

"Fine girl, you," retorted Burd. "You don't know when you are in danger."

"Fire's out!" announced Amy. "The skipper says so. And I am not afraid of a capful of wind."

There was more danger, however, than the girls imagined. The water that had been poured into the yacht's hold did not make her any more seaworthy. It was necessary to start the pump to try to clear the hold.

The clapperty-clap; clapperty-clap! of the pump and the water swishing across the deck to be vomited out of the hawse holes was nothing to add to the passengers' feelings of confidence. Besides, the water came very clear, and at its appearance the skipper looked doleful.

"What's the matter, Skipper?" asked Darry, seeing quickly that something was still troubling the old man.

"Why, Mr. Darry, that don't look good to me, and that's a fact," the sailing master said.

"Why not? The pump is clearing her fast."

"Is it?" grumbled Pandrick, shaking his head.

"Of course it is!" exclaimed Darry, with some exasperation. "Don't be an Old Man of the Sea."

"That's exactly what I am, Mr. Darry," said the skipper. "I'm so old a hand at sea that I'm always looking for trouble. I confess it. And I see trouble--and work for all hands--right here."

"What do you mean?" asked Jessie, who chanced to be by. "The pump works all right just as Darry says, doesn't it?"

"But, by gorry!" ejaculated the skipper, "it looks as though we were just pumping the whole Atlantic through her seams."

"Goodness! What do you mean?" Jessie demanded.

"You think she is leaking?" asked Darry, in some trouble.

"Bilge ain't clean water like that," answered Pandrick. "That's as clear as the sea itself. Mind you! I don't say she leaks more'n enough to keep her sweet. But if those pumps don't suck purt' soon, I shall have my suspicions."

"Darry!" ejaculated Jessie, "your yacht is falling apart. What are we going to do?"

"I don't believe it," muttered Darry.

He had, however, to admit it after a time. It seemed as though the _Marigold_ were suffering one misfortune after another. The fire, which might have been very serious, was extinguished; but the yacht lay deep in the troubled sea, rolling heavily, and the water pumped through the pipe was plainly seeping in through the seams of her hull.

"Goodness me! shall we have to take to the boat and the life raft?" demanded Amy.

It was scarcely possible to joke much about the situation. Even Amy Drew's "famous line of light conversation" could not keep up their spirits.

The wind continued to blow harder and harder. The yacht could no longer head into it. Dr. Stanley looked grave. Nell, first frightened by her discovery of the fire in the hold, was now in tears.

To add to the seriousness of the situation, there was not another vessel in sight.