the deck. Geoff yelled to the cook, sprang up and seized the bucket he had filled and took it and flung it on the fire.
Big, heavy men blundered by him, choking or calling direction and encouragement to each other. McNeal was there in the thick of it—big, hoarse-voiced McNeal, steady and swift with his strong arms. Michaelis, the Danish mate, fought beside him. Geoff made out Brunton and Koehler; then no more. The fifth man was not there now—Latham. Geoff could not see; he could not be sure; any one might be lost in the smoke. What had happened to Latham?
McNeal, as he passed now, missed him too and called for him.
"Latham!" his voice shouted. "Latham! Where are you? Are you all right? Latham, answer!"
He listened while he seized another pail of water and threw it, but no shout came back in return. McNeal shouted again; and after him Koehler.
"I saw him going down the last time I passed him," Koehler called.
