One little matter which took place toward the next evening, when order was once more restored, the boats in their places, and everyone assured that there was no chance of a fresh outbreak, deserves recording.
It was close upon dusk when, as Jimpny came slouching along the deck, he encountered the first-mate, and was about to turn aside; but Mr Gregory, who had been chatting with Mark, and patting Bruff, who had won the distinction of giving first warning of the fire, stopped him.
“I’m rather rough sometimes with the men, Jimpny, and I have been particularly hard on you. I can’t say a good word for you as a sailor, but you have saved this ship by coming aboard, and if Captain Strong—”
“What about him?” said the captain. “Oh, I see; you were talking to Jimpny here. Ah! he has his strong points, you see, Gregory. I shall not forget what took place last night.”
“Don’t talk about it, sir,” said the stowaway in a shamefaced fashion. “Only too glad to have recollected about the matches.”
“Ah,” said the mate; “and if you could only recollect the scoundrel who sent them, he should pay for the damage, eh, Captain Strong?”
“Yes,” said the captain; “it was a cruel trick, for the sake of saving a few pounds. But, as I said before, Jimpny, I shall not forget last night’s work.”
“I thank you kindly, sir,” said the man, “but I don’t want nothing, only a chance to get on a bit.”
“And that,” said the captain, “you have found.”
The damaged cargo was thrown overboard, the hold pumped dry, and exposed to the air as much as possible, and the risk they had all run began to be looked upon as a thing of the past. But there was one personage, if he could be so styled, who did not recover quite so quickly from the troubles of that night, and that was Jacko, who suffered so severely from the overpowering nature of the smoke in the hold that he became quite an invalid, and had to be brought up on deck by Billy Widgeon, and laid upon a wool mat in the sun.