There, beyond the flickering pool of blue and yellow flame, which was rapidly spreading in every direction, he could dimly see quite a wall of piled-up kegs, one of which lay right in the edge of the pool of fire, and suddenly exploded with a dull report, which blew the tongues of fire in all directions, half extinguishing them for the moment, but instantaneously flashing out again in a volume of fire, which quadrupled the size of the pool, and began to lick the sides of the kegs.
“The wretches! They fired the spirits before they escaped,” cried Archy, who realised to the full what had been done; and, for the sake of our common humanity, let us say it must have been an act of vindictive spite, aimed only at the destruction of the proof spirit, so that it might not fall into the sailors’ hands—not intended to condemn them to a hideous death.
“Back quick to the entrance! We must hack down that door,” roared Archy.
“Ay, ay,” shouted the men, who the moment before were mad with terror, but who leaped at the command as if their safety were assured.
“No, no!” shouted the midshipman, as a fresh keg exploded; and in the flash of flame which followed, the place glowed with a ghastly light.
“Yes, sir, yes!” shouted the men.
“I tell you no,” cried Archy; “we should be burned or suffocated long before we could get that open.”
And, as in imagination he saw the men fighting and striving with one another to get to the trap-door, which remained obstinately closed, he clapped his hand on Mr Gurr’s shoulder.
“I know another way,” he cried. “Follow me.”
“Hurrah!” yelled the men, and the lad had taken a dozen steps toward the pool of fire, when a wild shout came from near the entrance.