“These dense black clouds might hide the flashes,” said Lane.
“No,” said Panton. “I should say that a flash of lightning would pass through any cloud. I don’t think it’s thunder.”
“What, then, a naval action going on?”
“No war,” said the mate, “it must be thunder.”
Another detonation, louder than any they had heard before, made the ship literally quiver, and the men pressed together and turned their startled faces towards the mate as if for help and protection.
“World’s coming to a hend,” muttered one of the men.
“If I was skipper here,” said another, “I’d just ’bout ship and run for it.”
“Where to?” said Wriggs.
“Can’t run your ship out o’ the world, matey,” grumbled the first sailor who had spoken, while the mate and the cabin passengers stood gazing in the direction from which the detonations seemed to come, and tried to pierce the dense blackness ahead. “Sims to me as there’s something wrong in the works somewhere. I never see anything like this afore.”
“Nor you can’t see nothing like it behind, matey,” said Wriggs. “It’s like playing at Blind Man’s Buff shut up in a water tank.”