I tried in vain to attract the attention of one of the men as he passed. Either he did not see me or else he did not dare to come near. If only some of them knew!
About four o'clock I fell asleep. I slept for some hours, and would have continued doing so had not a wild cry suddenly brought me to my feet.
"Fire! Fire!"
It was a fearful cry—doubly fearful on a ship hundreds of miles from land and my face blanched as I sprang to my feet.
Could it be possible—was the Spitfire in flames?
"Fire! fire!" came that dreadful cry once more.
Then came loud voices issuing orders and the rush of the sailors' feet.
In vain I tried to catch sight of some one. The men, in a perfect panic, rushed hither and thither, but no one paid any attention to me.
"On deck there!" I heard Lowell shout.
"Where is the fire?" burst from half a dozen throats in chorus.
"In the hold it is one mass of flames!"
"Can't we put it out?" questioned one of the sailors.
"No, the fire has gained too much headway for that."
"But we might try."
