"No, your plan. If you see he is going to shoot you before you get
inside, jump backwards and dive."
"And remember to go far enough out not to hit the dinghy."
"Good."
Madden stared up into the mysterious vessel, caught the ladder and swung
himself silently onto the rungs. Caradoc mounted close behind him. They
had mounted only two or three steps, when a sudden terrific report
thundered above their heads.
It was so unexpected, so violent, that the two boys almost tumbled into
the sea. The next instant they found themselves wrapped in an atmosphere
of hot, stifling steam. They clung to the rungs in a veritable
steam-bath that roared and plunged around them. When Madden collected
his senses, he realized that it was merely a safety discharge from the
boilers. The main steam pressure did not strike them, but they swung in
the hot wet fringe of the exhaust. Had they been ten feet farther aft,
they would surely have been boiled to death. As it was they were
immersed in uncomfortably hot vapor.
They clung, rather unnerved by the uproar, enduring the heat for four or
five minutes, when suddenly an idea occurred to Madden. He leaned down
to Caradoc and shouted in his ear.
"How about going up now? Couldn't see us in this steam."
For reply, Caradoc shoved his friend upward, and so they scrambled aloft
like two monkeys.
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