"No—no—I don't know as I would," answered the mate. "Of course not. More likely the lurch of the vessel did it."
"Well, it was lucky it was no worse," spoke the captain. "If that lantern had exploded, and the blazing oil had been scattered about, there would have been a different ending to this. Nat would probably be dead, and the ship a wreck. After this no lanterns are to be carried into the hold. Have some electric lights rigged up on long wires, so they can be taken in," he added to the mate, who promised to see that it was done.
"Hum," remarked Mr. Weatherby, as he and Nat walked toward the pilot-house. "You can't make me believe a lurch of the ship loosened that bale so it fell. Bumstead doesn't stow his cargo in such a careless fashion. He's too good a sailor."
"What do you think then?" asked Nat.
"I think some one pushed that bale down."
"Do you think the person wanted to hurt me?"
"I can't say as to that. It may have been done by accident, by a sailor asleep in the hold. Certainly no rat did it," and the pilot smiled. But he was more worried than he would admit to Nat.
"I am glad I got out."
"I don't suppose you feel much like taking a lesson in navigation?"
"Oh, I'm always ready for that," was the answer. "I'm all right now. My head has stopped aching."