Chapter III

So quiet was the night, that Freeman’s measured footsteps, as he trod the quarter-deck, sounded with strange distinctness to the guilty occupant of the space beneath. No other sound disturbed the silence but the gentle swish and gurgle of the water alongside, and an occasional creak from some block or pulley.

The piles of swelling canvas; the mast-heads nodding against the stars; the white paint-work of the poop; the delicate shadows cast upon the deck by the ropes and shrouds; the motionless figure of the man at the wheel;—all were beautified and softened by the white flood of moonlight. Drops of dew glittered everywhere, and when Freeman laid his hand upon the main brace, it was wet as though from rain.

He had been reading odd items in an old copy of the Sydney Herald, and put it down just as two great rats that had come up from the hold scampered across the deck. This was nothing unusual, and after stamping with his foot to scare the bold creatures, he glanced at the binnacle.

“Keep her at N. N. E., Matt; you’ve let her go off a point. Watch the card, man.”

“Keep her at N. N. E., sir,” the fellow repeated, shifting his quid to starboard as Freeman walked away.

“I’ll see how the lookout does,” the officer thought, “though if every night was like this, there’d be little need of any.”

He went forward along the port side. Happening to cast a glance through the open forecastle door, he noticed that the light was out.

“That’s queer,” he soliloquized; “it burned brightly enough when I passed by a couple of hours ago.”

He entered the door to see if the wick was out of order, or whether all the oil had been consumed. Neither—the lantern was gone!

He had just made this discovery, and was leaving the building to ask his men whether any of them had removed the light, when a curious jarring sensation rooted him to the deck. The idea of a submarine earthquake flashed through his brain, but within a second’s time there was a deafening report,—a blinding flash,—a staggering of the bark,—and then flying timbers and bales of merchandise were hurled skyward with awful power. The whole after part of the vessel seemed going up in the air piecemeal!

“Great God!” breathed Freeman, grasping the ladder on the forward house.

His self-possession soon returned. Already some of the crew had begun to act like lunatics.

“Call all hands, and behave like men. The bark’s still afloat, and now three of you come aft with me.”

His cool decision inspired confidence, and half a dozen of the crew followed.

The canvas began to flap—the bark was badly off her course. Freeman bounded on as he noticed this fact.

“That cowardly Matt’s deserted the wheel,” he thought—“or else the poor devil’s been killed.”

But the officer stood motionless when he reached the place where the quarter-deck had been—the spot where he had been standing not five minutes since. The whole deck was gone, and in its place was a great cavity that reached from one side of the vessel to the other, and seemed to go down to the very keelson.

It was a time for action, and he crept along on the starboard side, walking on a few jagged splinters, and holding to the main brace with his hands. The wheel had been shattered and was useless, while Matt lay against the rail where the force of the explosion had hurled him.

“Men, sheet everything home, and move d—d quick! The wheel’s smashed and we can’t steer the bark. Let go all the halyards and sheets, and get her stripped. Work for your lives!”

Had the wind been stronger, a serious accident would probably have resulted before the unmanageable vessel could have been relieved of her canvas, but although she careened badly, it was but a few minutes before enough sails had been taken in to avert the threatened danger.

The unaccountable disaster that had befallen was sufficiently appalling to those who were on deck at the time it occurred; but imagine the feelings of the others—roused from a sound sleep at three in the morning by a shock as of an earthquake. The mate’s watch were asleep in the forecastle, a considerable distance from the lazarette, but to the captain, passengers, mate and steward, who occupied the after house, the sensation was indeed awful. What wonder that the screams of Mrs. Evans and Miss Blake rent the air? Or that Captain Maxwell, experienced seaman that he was, found himself utterly stunned and bewildered? But he was on deck in no time, issuing orders with the confidence of one who has long been accustomed to command.

Nothing so quickly restores our presence of mind in great crises as the knowledge that others look to us for advice and help. When the terrified Miss Blake rushed into her aunt’s cabin, it must be said to the widow’s credit that she left off screaming, and endeavored to pacify her niece. She tried to think what Captain Evans would have done in such an emergency, although having no clear idea as to what manner of evil had befallen the vessel; and after hastily assuming her dressing gown and slippers she issued forth with a boldness that surprised even herself.

The sight that presented itself utterly confounded the good woman, and it was only after passing her hand across her eyes several times, that she could believe the evidence of her senses. The cabin partition towards the stern was blown entirely out, together with the companion-way, and skylight above. The roof of the cabin had been splintered in places and lifted up, until Mrs. Evans could see a patch of sky here and there, while the floor under her feet was so uneven she could hardly walk upon it. She stood holding to the center table, blankly wondering what could have happened, when the steward came from Captain Maxwell’s room.

“Oh, steward, in the name of heaven, what has happened? Are we sinking? Have we been pooped? Is the bark stove to pieces on a rock?”

“It’s not that bad, Madam Evans. There’s no rock in this part of the ocean, and if we’re sinking it’s very slowly. Are you hurt?”

“No; only badly frightened. I cannot realize yet what is the matter. Is anyone killed?”

“We can’t tell yet, ma’am. But I must not stop here talking. The after wall of the captain’s room is blown out and the head of his bed torn off. The room was set afire, too, and in putting it out he burned his hands badly. Will you hold this lamp while I get some linseed oil and batting?”

Captain Maxwell’s injuries were more painful than dangerous, and considerable relief was afforded as soon as Mrs. Evans’ deft fingers had applied the dressing. He then returned to the deck. It still lacked over two hours of dawn, and the moon was low in the west. Total darkness would soon descend, and there was much to be done. Already the carpenter was at work on a new wheel, and the moment it was in position the captain resolved to steer for Rio de Janeiro, where repairs could be made.

The strong smell of powder, and the shattered timbers, left no doubt in the captain’s mind that an explosion of some sort had caused the catastrophe. Fortunately, its greatest force had been upward; otherwise the vessel’s bottom might have been blown out, thus ending her career and those of all on board in short order. The signals in the lazarette were the only explosives on board the bark, but how they could have become ignited was not easily seen, unless a fire had started. Everyone was on deck but the ladies; there was no more sleep that night.

“Mr. Bohlman, you will muster all hands amidships, and you and Mr. Freeman will then call the names of those in your respective watches. Some one may have been killed. Whose wheel was it at the time of the accident?”

“Matt’s, sir,” answered Freeman. “He was badly hurt by being blown against the bulwarks. We’ve put him in his bunk, and two hands are rubbing him.”

While the crew were assembling, the captain questioned his second mate closely as to whether he had noticed any signs of fire about the after part of the vessel, or seen any person enter the lazarette. Freeman was certain, however, that he should have smelled smoke had there been any fire, while as for anyone entering the place without being seen by himself or the man at the wheel,—it was impossible. It will be remembered that he had gone below just before Captain Maxwell discovered the lighted lantern, and therefore knew nothing of that circumstance.

“About how long was it after you left the quarter-deck until the explosion took place?”

“It wasn’t five minutes, sir. I was going forward to the fo’k’sl deck to see that everything was all right, when, happening to look in the port door of the fo’k’sl, I noticed the light was out. I stepped in to see whether the lantern was empty or not, but found it gone. Then—”

“You found the lantern gone!” exclaimed the captain, an idea striking him. “Did you notice whether Dick Lewis was gone, too?”

“Dick Lewis? No, sir; why should I? It was his watch below, and he was probably in his bunk.”

“We shall see. Come with me to the main deck.”

All hands were assembled around the capstan in various degrees of astonishment. Several of that motley crew had probably been shipwrecked during various stages of their careers, but it may be doubted whether any had ever witnessed an accident similar to that which had just taken place.

“Dick Lewis, step forward!”

The captain’s stern command produced a sensation, and all hands wondered what was coming next.

“Dick Lewis, step forward!”

The words were repeated, but no response came from among the crowd of men standing about in the raw morning air.

“That settles it,” said the captain, decisively. “Let the fo’k’sl be searched, and every other part of the bark. If that boy is not to be found, he has paid the penalty of his rashness. He may be dead in the hold, or he may have been blown through the quarter-deck and into the ocean.”

Freeman remembered the conversation of the previous afternoon, when Dick had betrayed his curiosity regarding the signals. Yes, the captain’s theory must be correct, and he shuddered to think how long the boy might have been at work in the lazarette while he walked the deck above. But how had he entered the place? Matt was not so badly hurt but that he was able to swear no one had passed through the hatch, and he, Freeman, had left the quarter-deck but twice during the watch, and then only for a few minutes. The true solution of the problem passed through the minds of Captain Maxwell, his mate and second mate, at almost the same moment, but the two former at first dismissed it as too improbable. Freeman, however, insisted that Dick must have gotten into the lazarette, if at all, by crawling all the way aft through the hold; and as Matt insisted that no one had gone below by the usual way, this view of the matter was the only possible one left.

“God only knows what ailed that boy,” Captain Maxwell said, as Dick’s devilish ingenuity became apparent, “but he’s found out by this time how those signals work, and what twenty-five pounds of powder can do.”