Page:Cruise of the Dry Dock.djvu/170

 “'Ow could they drop a match, wearin' nothin' but undershirts?” flared back another navvy.

“We could do no good in a small boat!” cried Galton.

“'She's afire from stem to stern!”

“But smoke—w'ere's th' smoke?”

Then, quite surprisingly, the light wavered out, leaving the schooner in stony blackness. A vague blur of complementary color swam in Madden's eyes. A gasp went up from the watchers.

“Bhoys,” faltered Hogan in an awed tone, “th' banshees ar-re dancin' to-night!”

“Banshees!” sneered Mulcher. “Th' deck's caved in—it'll break out again!”

“Th' engines must be ruint complately.”

“Wot do ye make of it, Mister Madden?” asked Galton, bewildered. “Look—there it is again!”

Sure enough the mysterious light flamed up once more as suddenly as it disappeared. It flickered and wavered over hull and spars.

“It might possibly be a phosphorescent display,” hazarded Leonard, completely mystified.