“Back to your work!” cried one of the men, but the captain stopped him.
“Yes, matches, my man,” he said, for there was a faint hope that Jimpny might know something.
“There were chests of ’em down below where I lay,” said Jimpny eagerly. “I could smell ’em strong all the time.”
“Smell them?” cried Mr Gregory.
“Yes, sir, onion phosphory smell, you know.”
“Hurrah!” cried the first-mate excitedly. “Axes, my lad, and lanterns. We know now.”
Three men started forward, but the captain caught the axe from one and a lantern from another, and was about to follow the first-mate when an uneasy movement among the crew arrested him, and he handed the axe and light to Mr Morgan.
“You go down,” he said. “I may be wanted here.”
It was a wise resolve, for it stayed a rush to the boats just at the moment when a chance was left of saving the vessel.
The captain’s stern presence was, however, sufficient to keep the men back; and as the pumping and carrying of water ceased, all stood irresolute, listening to the blows of hatchets and the breaking of wood below.