The lieutenant's name was Raxtell, and Oscar did not at all like his looks. Yet he said nothing and treated the lieutenant to all the courtesy due his naval rank.
But that night Oscar could not sleep. Something worried him, he could not tell what.
"Something is wrong, and I know it," he muttered to himself, and, unknown to any of the others, began a tour of inspection.
All went well until he reached the magazine room in which the explosives were stored.
Then he heard a low chant, and looking in, saw a sight that caused his very heart to stop beating.
Lieutenant Raxtell was there, with the look of a madman upon his ghost-like face.
He had attached a long fuse to all of the dynamite bombs and was in the act of firing the explosives.
HE WAS IN THE ACT OF FIRING THE EXPLOSIVE.