Page:Century Magazine v069 (centuryillustrat69holl).pdf/391
The sound of the flames rose suddenly to a muffled grumble. Captain Keighley said: "Here 's some cotton waste I hunted up. Pull a wad off to plug yer noses, an' put some in yer mouths. We 'll be breathin' scorch in a minute."
He tore off a greasy ball and passed the roll to Moore. It traveled down the line from hand to hand, as if for a sign of union and peace among them, like a pax.
"Now," he ordered, "get away from the sides of that cargo-room. Lay yerselves out flat 's yuh can."
They obeyed him meekly.
"That 's right," he said. "Stay there now. It 's goin' to be so hot in here, some of yuh 'll be goin' off yer heads. Yuh don't want to do that. Yuh want to hang on, understand? Keep still an' hang on. And if yuh feel yerself goin' looney, get a hold of the floor, anyway, an' don't let go. See?"
He took u]) the engineer's hammer, stepped down to the door, and put his back against it. "I 'll brain any man that tries to open this before I give the word," he said.
The men lay quiet, some flat on their backs, staring glassily at the steel beams overhead, panting with convulsive chests; some on their faces, with their heads on