The mate sprang on top of the cases stowed level with the lower edges of the hold with a cry for men to follow him. The interior was the fore-part of the ’tween decks, bulkheaded off some little distance before the mainmast, and filled with light, easily handled goods. The hatch conducting to the ship’s hold lay closed immediately under these few tons of freight in a line with the yawning square into which Mr. Prance had sprung. Where was the fire? If in the lower hold, then heaven help us! I glanced aft, and saw the captain hastily walking forward. The passengers had come together in a crowd, and were staring with pale faces from the head of the poop ladder. Old Keeling was perfectly cool. He asked no questions, made no fuss, simply came to the side of the hatch, saw Mr. Prance and a gang of men at work breaking out the cargo, and stood watching, never hindering the people’s labour by a question. His keen seawardly eye took in everything in a breath. One needed but to watch his face to see _that_. The placidity of the fine old fellow was a magnificent influence. In an incredibly short space of time, the captain meanwhile never once opening his lips, the head-pump was rigged, the hose trailed along and pointed ready, a number of seamen were standing in files with buckets ranged along all prepared for drawing water, and passing it to the hatchway with the swiftest expedition. I cannot express the wonderful encouragement the heart found in this silence alone. The captain trusted his chief mate, saw that he exactly knew what to do, and stood by as a spectator, with just one look of approval at his quiet, resolute, deep-breathing ranks of seamen awaiting orders. Once he turned his purple face, and observing Mr. Johnson and Mr. Emmett and one or two others nervously edging their way forwards, he beckoned with a long forefinger to a boatswain’s mate and said in a low voice: ‘Drive those gentlemen aft on to the poop, and see that none of the passengers leaves it.’ He glanced at me once, but said nothing, possibly because he had found me looking on when he arrived. All as tranquilly as though the job was no more than the mere breaking out of a few boxes of passengers’ luggage, the work of removing the cargo so as to get at the fire proceeded. The smoke continued to steal stealthily up. The contents of the cases I do not know, but they were light enough to be lifted easily. A number of them were got on deck. The mate and Mr. Cocker--who had arrived from his cabin shortly after the captain had come--headed the gang of workers, and rapidly disappeared in the lanes they opened. ‘Here it is!’ at last came a muffled shout. Mr. Cocker coming out of a dark hole like a rat, with the perspiration streaming from him as though a bucket of oil had been capsized over his head, sang out for the hose to be overhauled and the pump to be worked.