“Where are Jarette and the men?”
“They rowed away to the east,” replied Mr Brymer, “and are quite out of sight.”
“Then we can talk aloud,” I cried.
“Ay, and shout if you like.”
It was morning, and there were signs of the sun being just about to roll up above the smooth sea, as the men gently dipped their oars so as not: to waken the sleepers, and the boat began to move softly toward the ship.
“It is a puzzle to me that she has not gone down, Dale,” said Mr Brymer, in a low voice. “That explosion was enough to drive out her sides, as well as rip up her deck; and I am beginning to think that after all she may float.”
“But she is on fire still,” I said; “and though burning slowly, the fire must be eating its way through the bottom.”
“Perhaps not, my lad,” he replied. “There was an immense amount of cargo solidly stowed below, and it may be only that which is burning.”
“But you will not venture to go on board?” I said.
“Why not, my lad?”