The pier shed, as they swung in towards it, was fuming at every door with puffs of a heavy smoke from the burning grasses in which the fruit was packed; and Keighley saw that the fire was going to be--in department slang--a “worker.” He could see the “steamers” of two shore companies drawing water from the end of the slip. He understood that their crews were in the shed, trying to drive the fire forward; and he knew that it would be his duty to enter from the other end of the pier and catch the flames between the two attacks. He shouted to the pilot, “Hol’ us up to the door there!” He ran back to Lieutenant Moore. “Stay aboard here,” he ordered. “If the blaze shows in the roof, take the top off her with the monitor. Go slow, though. Don’t bring it down onto us.” He called to the men, “Throw out yer lines! Make fast, now! Hang on to that line aft! Hol’ it! Hol’ it.... All right. Stretch in. In through the door here! Come on!” He jumped up on the bulwarks as the engines reversed with a frantic churning astern. And then he saw a flicker of flame glimmer and grow between the timbers of the cribwork, just above the water line, half way up the dock. “Hol’ on!” he cried to the four men who had leaped to the pier. “Drop one o’ those lines. Take yer axes. Chop a hole in the floor planks inside. The fire’s ’n underneath.” The men who were aboard the _Hudson_ tossed the axes out to the others, and these rushed into the smoke, dragging the single line of hose. Keighley said to the Lieutenant, “Go in an’ take charge there. See ’at no one gets lost in that smoke.” Moore scrambled to the pier, and the captain ran forward along the bulwarks, peering down for an opening between the stringers of the cribbing. He knew that the crew on the pier would take at least ten minutes to cut a hole through the three-inch planks, in the blind suffocation of that shed; and meanwhile, the fire would travel from end to end of the pier. He could see no opening larger than an inch slit between the foot timbers beside the bow of the boat. He started aft again. “Shine,” behind him, said, “It’s covered at high water, cap.” Keighley spun around. “What is?” “The hole. I t’ought--” Keighley jumped down at him. “Where is it? Will it take a line o’ hose in?” “Sure,” “Shine” said. “It’ll take a bunch o’ bananas in.” “Where is it?” “It’s--it’s about there.” He pointed down the pier. “It’s ’n under water at high tide.” Keighley ran his fingers up the buttons of his rubber coat, and it fell off him like sleight-of-hand. His helmet dropped beside it. “Get me a heavin’-line,” he said. And “Shine” gasped excitedly, “Say, cap, _you_ can’t find it. Yuh have to dive. It’s where the ‘club’ ust to hide the stuff we swiped--till the cop got next t’ it. I c’u’d make it in the dark. We fixed up a reg’lar joint in there.” The captain said, “Peel off, then. Hi, there! Bring us a heavin’-line”--and ran back to get it.