The inrush of a fresh atmosphere completed the work the water cask had begun. The poisonous fumes were dispersed, and, with their disappearance, the others regained their senses. Mr. De Vere was the next to arouse.
“What—what happened?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Jerry, “unless Blowitz came aboard and chloroformed us.”
“He couldn’t do that—yet—the safe is not tampered with—but this drowsy feeling—”
Mr. De Vere stopped suddenly. His eyes were fixed on the closet or locker, whence the safe had been wheeled, and where the little boxes were. From the locker a thin, bluish smoke arose.
“Quick!” he cried. “I understand it all now! We must get them overboard or we’ll all be killed!”
Ned and Bob had been aroused by this time, and were sitting staring stupidly around them. They did not realize what had happened.
“I’ll throw ’em overboard,” volunteered Jerry.
“Don’t go near them,” cautioned Mr. De Vere. “If you breathe too deeply of those fumes, you’ll be killed. Get a boat hook, poke them out of the locker, spear them with the sharp point, and thrust them up through the broken cabin window.”
Jerry hurried to the Ripper, which safely rode alongside the brig. He got a sharp boat hook, and, with the aid of Bob and Ned, the boxes, with their deadly contents were soon out on deck, whence they were knocked into the sea. Then a hunt was made in other parts of the brig and more boxes were found and cast into the ocean.