“What were you doing there?”
“I—I had an errand,” responded Philip.
With this Gerald mercifully intermitted his catechism. He put himself back in his berth. Philip’s quick ear caught a new sound—the pumps were started. Surely that was a hint of very certain and evil omen.
“Wait! I’ll be back directly,” he said, hurrying into the passage-way. There was a great stir in the saloon. “Yes, it’s true!” he heard somebody exclaim. “Don’t you hear the pumps?” “Who says so?” called out another. A man hurrying past him was inquiring, “How big is it? Why don’t they tell us that?” There could be no mistake. Part of the trouble was a leak.
“Don’t be alarmed, ladies and gentlemen,” said the mate; he was coming quickly down from the group forward, followed by a dozen clamorous passengers. “We’ve found a leak in the hold. A barrel of explosive stuff went off, but they’re getting the best of it, all right. The engineers are working. The shock’s disabled the machinery a little. It’ll soon be fixed. Don’t be frightened.”
It was a comfort to get at some part of the mystery. But the faces around the cabin were as anxious as ever. The idea of mischief to the machinery was not a soothing addition. How inexplicable the whole accident was!
Philip hied him back to Gerald. Then for a time no more information could be got. There was a leak? Yes, there was a leak, but every body could be easy. They “were getting it under control all right.” The little groups at the staircases, still held in check by the captain’s orders, waited anxiously. The pumps kept up steadily their clanging sound that had not stopped once; and to Philip and Gerald the pumps seemed to be going faster than ever by the time half an hour had gone by. Once when Touchtone stepped out for any more news he overheard an officer running by say something about “below the water-line,” and add to the head steward, “Tell Peters to get out what I said—quick!”
As he sat in the state-room, glad that he had succeeded yet in keeping Gerald so unexcited, Belmont came to his mind. “Most likely he’s in that crowd forward,” he thought. “One comfort! However bad a scare it is, I fancy it’s upset him and his schemes in making us trouble.”
But just then began a rush in the cabin and loud words and outcries. People came running down the saloon, and there was trampling of feet up the brass steps of the staircases, and hasty orders. Gerald, terrified, leaped from his berth and ran trembling out into the passage. There the two lads stood together, wild-eyed. They heard the captain speaking and drawing nearer with each word: “Ladies and gentlemen, you are aware that an explosion down in the hold has broken a hole in the bow. We thought we could manage it; we cannot. The steamer must sink inside of an hour. Be quiet, I tell you—and keep calm! There is plenty of time. We must take to the boats in as good order and as quickly as possible. We cannot beach the ship, the engines are crippled. Please prepare yourselves and come aft.”
A great cry went up from those who heard. The worst was known! Arm tightly clasped in arm, the two lads tried to grasp this news that made their hearts leap to their throats. Could it be true? But following the captain’s words and the sounds of panic that rose with them came the boom—boom—of the signal-gun, the tolling of the bell, the louder scream of the whistle, and the flash of rockets and Bengal lights—not likely to be of much use in that dense fog.