“One Saturday evening, I being off duty, the men asked me to give them
an extra bucket of water or so--for washing clothes. As I did not wish
to screw on the fresh-water pump so late, I went forward whistling, and
with a key in my hand to unlock the forepeak scuttle, intending to serve
the water out of a spare tank we kept there.
“The smell down below was as unexpected as it was frightful. One would
have thought hundreds of paraffin-lamps had been flaring and smoking in
that hole for days. I was glad to get out. The man with me coughed and
said, ‘Funny smell, sir.’ I answered negligently, ‘It’s good for the
health, they say,’ and walked aft.
“The first thing I did was to put my head down the square of the midship
ventilator. As I lifted the lid a visible breath, something like a thin
fog, a puff of faint haze, rose from the opening. The ascending air was
hot, and had a heavy, sooty, paraffiny smell. I gave one sniff, and
put down the lid gently. It was no use choking myself. The cargo was on
fire.
“Next day she began to smoke in earnest. You see it was to be expected,
for though the coal was of a safe kind, that cargo had been so handled,
so broken up with handling, that it looked more like smithy coal than
anything else. Then it had been wetted--more than once. It rained all
the time we were taking it back from the hulk, and now with this
long passage it got heated, and there was another case of spontaneous
combustion.
“The captain called us into the cabin. He had a chart spread on the
table, and looked unhappy. He said, ‘The coast of West Australia is
near, but I mean to proceed to our destination. It is the hurricane
month too; but we will just keep her head for Bankok, and fight the
fire. No more putting back anywhere, if we all get roasted. We will try
first to stifle this ‘ere damned combustion by want of air.’
“We tried. We battened down everything, and still she smoked. The smoke
kept coming out through imperceptible crevices; it forced itself through
bulkheads and covers; it oozed here and there and everywhere in slender
threads, in an invisible film, in an incomprehensible manner. It made
its way into the cabin, into the forecastle; it poisoned the sheltered
places on the deck, it could be sniffed as high as the main-yard. It
was clear that if the smoke came out the air came in. This was
disheartening. This combustion refused to be stifled.
“We resolved to try water, and took the hatches off. Enormous volumes
of smoke, whitish, yellowish, thick, greasy, misty, choking, ascended as
high as the trucks. All hands cleared out aft. Then the poisonous cloud
blew away, and we went back to work in a smoke that was no thicker now
than that of an ordinary factory chimney.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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