Flinging his bucket away, Hal now made a tour of that part of the ship which was not in flames. Then, having helped to lift three injured men into the boat, he descended himself, and at the quartermaster's order they returned to their own ship. A few minutes later, Captain Sigsbee, the commander of the Maine, stepped sadly from her deck, and was rowed away, the last living man to leave the terrible scene.
As for Hal, he slipped into a fresh suit of clothes, and for hours worked with the other passengers endeavoring to alleviate the sufferings of the poor fellows brought aboard the ship. Then, tired out with his labors, for he had taken a prominent and a large share in the work of rescue, he retired to the upper deck, with Mr. Brindle, Gerald, and Dora, and flung himself into a chair. But though utterly fatigued, he was too horrified by the ghastly tragedy he had witnessed, and too shaken by all that had happened in the past few hours, to be able to get to sleep. It was out of the question, so that instead of going straight to his bunk, he felt that he must stay in the open air, where he could rest, and at the same time talk over the occurrence with his friends.
"I've a weight here," he cried peevishly, striking himself on the chest. "The horror of it all distresses me. What a terrible calamity!"
"Aye, what a misfortune! What an inhuman deed!" replied Mr. Brindle, in a voice which faltered in spite of himself. "Think of it; try to realize the cruelty of it all. In the times of peace, in the cause of good-will, and in the earnest attempt to bring alleviation of suffering to a long-stricken people, the poor lads of my adopted country are cruelly blown to pieces, sent into eternity at the very door of those who have invited them. They came with nothing but friendship in their hearts, expecting to meet with the same. The shock of the news will be felt from east to west, and from north to south, and everywhere will be received at first with incredulity, and later with loathing and scorn, for never was such a dastardly deed committed."
"Committed by whom? What do you mean?" asked Hal, in astonishment. "Do you really think that the explosion was arranged—that it was not a pure accident?"
"I do; unhappily, I do," answered Mr. Brindle sternly. "How could it have been otherwise? It is sad, far too sad for words, and I shall be mistaken if to-night's work does not prove the cause of a war between Spain and America."
"But why war, Mr. Brindle? Had matters come to such a pass that the destruction of the Maine would set the countries at each other's throats?"
"Perhaps not that, Hal, for the aspect of affairs of late was distinctly brighter. Still, I think I am right in saying that the wrath of the American people will be so great when the news is known, that serious trouble will be inevitable. But come, let us to our bunks. To-morrow we will talk the matter over."
"To our bunks, dad! I could not possibly sleep!" exclaimed Dora.
"Nor I," chimed in Gerald.