The cadets' task consisted in getting spare mizzen-topsails from the sail-room, sending them aloft and bending them to the yards. Hands were similarly employed in replacing the storm-rent canvas on the main-topsailyards.
It was owing to the fact that the Golden Vanity was wearing her old suit of canvas—the stronger and newer sails were being kept in reserve to be bent should the ship have to battle her way round the Horn—that she had survived the terrific ordeal. Had not the canvas carried away when the rudder went the ship would have been blown over on her beam-ends. As it was she had scudded before the wind, though fortunately the storm centre had passed in front of her.
The sea was now moderating rapidly so that it was possible to set to work to rig up a jury-rudder. This was constructed from a spare spar to which was lashed a couple of casks with a piece of sheet-iron to give the necessary resistance to the water.
It was not until the afternoon that the improvised steering-gear was in position and the new sails bent. Meanwhile temporary repairs had been effected to the bulwarks, fresh halliards and braces rove where necessary, and various renewals made where required.
By this time it was discovered that the ship had drifted nearly eighty miles north-west of her course, so that she was well away from the Haitian coast.
The work accomplished, Captain Corbold "turned over" to the Chief Officer. For nearly twenty-four hours the Old Man had not left the deck, for even when the weather moderated he insisted on having his meals brought to him.
In view of the disabled state of the ship the Chief suggested making for the nearest port to effect repairs to the rudder.
"Mister," replied the Old Man. "My orders are to make Nassau, and Nassau I'll make."
CHAPTER XXII. Fire on Board
No more was heard of the affair of Fairclough's sea-chest. The Senior Cadet never mentioned the matter, and his chums wisely refrained from asking him. As a matter of fact, Fairclough had to admit to himself that it was his fault entirely. He remembered being interrupted whilst he was searching for something in his chest, and going on deck. He had left the lid open and the tray out. Although he was away less than five minutes the rat had evidently found ample opportunity of investigating. That was three days ago. The rodent, trapped in the sea-chest, had tried to satisfy its hunger by gnawing the Senior Cadet's clothes.
One result of the hurricane was a perfect pest of cockroaches. Driven from the holds by the swishing bilgewater, they had swarmed into the officers' cabins, the cadets' quarters and the fo'c'sle. They were found in bedding, in clothes, and not infrequently in the food.
At first the older hands were inclined to treat the invasion lightly.
"You'll get used to the brutes in time," declared Davis, when Geoff expressed his disgust.
But "in time", whatever that might mean, the cockroaches increased and multiplied to such an extent that conditions became unbearable. Orders were given to fumigate the ship by means of sulphur candles.
The cadets thought this to be rather good fun—something out of the ordinary routine. The act of fumigating their quarters developed into a sort of competition to see who could remain longest in the sulphurous atmosphere; until, the last man out, the cuddy door was shut, and the place hermetically sealed.
Simultaneously the fo'c'sle and cabins underneath the poop were similarly treated, all hands being obliged to remain on deck for the necessary three hours.
But before that period had elapsed the bo'sun reported to the Old Man that he fancied he smelt burning wood.
"I can smell something besides sulphur fumes," remarked Captain Corbold. "You took every precaution against the candles being capsized?"
"Sure, sir," replied the bo'sun. "Every one was set up tight in a pannikin with plenty of water in it."
"In that case there's nothing to worry about," rejoined the skipper.
The bo'sun, far from being satisfied, expressed his belief to Second Officer Strachan. At the risk of nullifying all the good effect of the fumigatory method, Strachan removed the awning over the poop skylight, and pulled out the caulking that had been "paid" to keep the skylight airtight.
As he did so a thin column of smoke rose in the air.
"It's fire on board right enough," declared the Second Officer. "Get the hoses rigged and the fire-buckets filled. Don't alarm the hands. We'll soon get it under."
The Old Man received Strachan's report very differently from that of the bo'sun.
"All our trouble's aft this voyage," he exclaimed. "You've ordered up the fire-hoses, Strachan? Good. Hands to the pumps! Hands to furl fore and main-course and cro'jack!"
While the latter order was being carried out—its object being that in the event of flames bursting out the lower sails would not be ignited—a consultation was held by the officers as to the best way of locating the seat of the outbreak.
To open the door of the main cabin under the poop, out of which were the officers' cabins, was a dubious procedure, as the rush of air would fan the flames. On the other hand, the still burning sulphur candles were a source of danger, for until they were extinguished, and the sulphurous fumes dissipated, no one, unless wearing a smoke-helmet, could get a hose to play in the confined space.
There was one smoke-helmet on board. Kelso volunteered to don it and make the initial attempt.
The door was opened. A waft of suffocating fumes burst out, but very little smoke. It was reasonable to conclude that there was a fire on board, but it had not yet attained serious dimensions.
Wearing leather sea-boots and a heavy pilot coat, and protected by the smoke-helmet, the Third Officer made his way under the poop, dragging a hose after him. Before he was in the place half a minute the truth dawned upon him. The helmet was defective. The sulphur fumes brought tears to his eyes and gripped him by the throat.
Dropping the nozzle of the hose, Kelso rushed into the first cabin—his own—opened the scuttle, and hurled the sulphur candle overboard. For a few moments he held his face to the opening to recover his breath; then, discarding the useless smoke-helmet, he pursued his round. Not until he had disposed of the candles in the four sleeping-cabins did he return, half suffocated, to the quarter-deck.
"No fire to be seen, sir," he reported chokingly. "I've ditched the sulphur in every cabin but yours and that's locked."
"There's fire somewhere," persisted the Old Man.
"Yes, sir," replied Kelso. "In the steerage flat, I think. The deck's hot and there's smoke from under the hatch cover."
If the Third's report were correct, the situation was serious indeed. Apparently the sulphur candles had not been the cause of the outbreak which had occurred in the triangular space formed by the transverse bulkhead of the after-hold and the "run aft"—a sort of store place for ship's gear to which access was gained by means of a small hatch just for'ard of the rudder trunk.
The fire might well have been smouldering for days, and steadily eating its way into the timbers and planking. At any moment, the deck-beams might collapse and allow the air to get to the steerage flat. If that occurred the inevitable result would be a mass of flames that would speedily obtain a firm hold on the whole of the after part of the ship.
Meanwhile the task of furling lower sails had been carried out. At the same time the cadets' and hands' quarters had been opened and the fumigating materials removed and ditched.
The situation was a grave one. The ship was miles from land. No sail was in sight. Notwithstanding the recent hurricane the woodwork on board was bone dry in the terrific heat of the tropical sun. One of the quarter-boats had been carried away. The starboard one and the motor-launch lying in chocks on the main-hatch were insufficient to take all hands should it become necessary to abandon ship.