But he did not feel the pain, and saw not the danger to which he was exposed as he gazed straight beyond him at the doomed ship, and exulted in the wild shriek of horror that he had heard as the noise of the explosion died away.
He heard no more, for an awful silence fell upon the ocean, now blacker than ever, and rising up in the boat he held out one hand, shaking his fist in the direction where a faint glow told him of burning fragments of the wreck, and then with a shriek of exultation he cried—
“Sink, sink, with your accursed freight. Who wins now?”
He tottered as he spoke, and though straining his voice to hurl out his curse at the schooner and those on board, it was but a feeble cry, and he fell back senseless over the thwarts to lie in the bottom of the boat, with the water that had been shipped washing over him.
Story 1--Chapter XXXIX.
The Catastrophe.
The occupants of the cabin had sat long that night, talking of poor John Studwick’s peaceful end, and then separated, feeling low-spirited and heavy, as if some fresh trouble were in store; but Bessy had said good-night to Meldon, with her hands resting lovingly in his, and she did not shrink away when he pressed his lips to her forehead.
It had been arranged that the remains of the dead should be committed to the deep next day, and at last all had retired, after the captain and Dutch had heard the doctor’s report of Lauré’s state, which caused them some uneasiness, for if he recovered they felt that much trouble was in store.