Will had noticed the problem as soon as something went wrong with the ship.
The boiler room on this kind of steamship was on the lowest deck. The boiler was made of riveted iron plates, with poor seals and an imprecise pressure gauge. Most of the sailors operating it were temporary recruits with little experience.
Coal dust had accumulated in the corners of the boiler room, mixing with spilled fuel oil to form a highly flammable mixture. A single spark, a little overheating, or a faulty pressure gauge was enough to send the entire ship to the bottom of the sea.
Such incidents were actually quite common. Although steamships had gradually become more reliable in recent years, mechanical failures still occurred endlessly.
A baby lay on the bed, wrapped in a gray blanket. He was crying loudly, his breathing already growing rapid from the crying and the smoke.
Will walked to the bedside. The baby stared at the wooden board overhead, yellowed by thick smoke. His hand slipped through a gap in the blanket and grasped at the air a few times, catching nothing.
Will bent down and picked him up, tucked the blanket snugly around him, and carried him out of the cabin.
The passageway was already full of smoke, making it almost impossible to see the floor. The fire was spreading quickly, flames licking at some of the wooden cabins with sharp crackling sounds. Waves of heat surged in from every direction.
Will waved his wand. The thick smoke and waves of heat parted around him as though they had minds of their own. The baby lay quietly in his arms, his cries fading.
By the time he reached the deck, the ship had begun to list.
People were running toward the lifeboats. Some shouted, some cried, and