I can give no account of the time occupied by the various events of that night, for some things are strangely jumbled up in my mind consequent upon my excited state; but, oddly enough, others stand out bright and clear as if lit-up by the blaze, and there were moments when the silent burning and the floating away of those waves of light beyond the busy black and gold figures at the cabin-window seemed to be part of some strange dream.
All at once, as the men were hurrying to and fro, one of the spirit-casks exploded so loudly that I saw them all dash for the windows. Then came another and another report in such quick succession, that it was almost like one. There was a tremendous burst of flame, which floated high up, and I felt that the masts must catch now, and then the cabin-lights stood cut clear without a figure visible; a burst of talking, and then a roar of laughter telling that all had safely reached the boats.
The next minute the Frenchman’s voice came clearly to us as he ordered the men to mount again, and this was answered by a confused clamour.
“You miserable gang of cowards!” shouted Jarette, sharply; and his words were so clear coming across the water that they might have been spoken a dozen yards away.
“Why don’t you go up yourself?” cried one of the men, evidently from the next boat.
“Because I order you,” he shouted.
“And because you are afraid.”
I did not catch what he said, but there was a little stir in one of the boats, and directly after I saw a figure appear at the window of Captain Berriman’s cabin and begin to climb in.
“There he is,” whispered Bob Hampton. “Sarve him right if the boys rowed away and left him.”
I was too much interested in the scene before me to pay much heed to Bob Hampton’s words, and sat watching Jarette, as he turned from the window and disappeared. Then, directly after, I heard him shout and shout again, something which sounded familiar, but I could not quite make it out even when I heard him calling again, but nobody in the boats seemed to stir.