Chapter Twelve.
The destruction of the Manilla.
“I will only detain you a moment, gentlemen,” said the medico, as he closed the cabin door behind us; “but I wanted to speak to you strictly in private; since, if overheard, what I have to say might possibly produce a panic. The fact is that I am afraid we are not yet aware of the full extent of the disaster that has happened to us. I have been down in the forecastle attending to the wounded men; and I had no sooner entered the place than I noticed a faint smell as of burning; but I attached no importance to it at the moment, believing that it arose from the fire on deck. But, instead of passing away, as it ought to have done, with the extinguishment of the fire, it has persistently continued; and I am almost inclined to believe that it is now, if anything, rather stronger than it was when I went below. Do you think it possible that the ship’s cargo is on fire?”
“By Jove!” exclaimed the skipper; “I never thought of that. It shall be looked to at once. I am much obliged to you, Doctor, for mentioning the matter; and should have been even more so if you had communicated with me rather earlier. Come along, Bowen; we must investigate without further delay.”
The doctor hurriedly entered into an explanation to the effect that he could not leave his patients until they had been properly attended to, and that there was no one by whom he could send a message; but we could just then ill spare the time to listen to him; so, with a hasty acceptance of his excuses, the skipper led the way out on deck, I following.
We made our way straight to the forecastle, into which we forthwith descended; and, sure enough, we were no sooner fairly below the coamings of the hatchway than we became aware of a distinct smell of fire, to which also one of the less seriously injured of the wounded men immediately directed our attention. We sniffed about, hither and thither, and soon found that the smell was stronger as we stooped nearer to the deck, or approached the bulkhead dividing the fore-hold from the forecastle. It was now almost certain that there was a smouldering of something somewhere below; and without more ado the skipper flung off his coat, lifted the hatch of the forepeak, and descended. He remained below about five minutes; and when he reappeared he composedly closed the hatch, resumed his coat, and beckoned me to follow him on deck. The crew were now busily engaged, under the direction of the chief and second mates, in clearing away the wreck of the foremast; we therefore walked aft until we were out of hearing of everybody; when the captain paused, and, turning to me, said:
“I am very much afraid that the ship is on fire, but I cannot be sure. The smell is distinctly stronger in the forepeak than it is in the forecastle, yet not strong enough to lead to the belief that it is anything serious. Still, it must be attended to at once. So I shall knock off the men, call them aft, and speak to them before doing anything, or we shall have a panic among them. Then I shall have the fore-hatch opened, and proceed to make a proper examination of the cargo. Mr Priest,” he continued, calling to the chief mate, “knock the men off for a minute or two, and send them aft, if you please.”
The mate, marvelling, no doubt, at this untimely interruption of an operation of great importance, did as he was bid, and in a few minutes all hands, except the injured men, were mustered in the waist, waiting to hear what the skipper had to say to them. As soon as silence had been secured, Captain Chesney advanced and said:
“My lads, I have sent for you to come aft in order that I may communicate to you a matter that may prove of very considerable consequence to us all, and to invite your best assistance and co-operation in an investigation that I am about to cause to be made. The matter in question may or may not prove to be of an alarming character; but, in case of its turning out to be the latter, I want to impress upon you all the paramount importance of order, method, and the most implicit obedience, without which nothing of real importance can ever be achieved. There is at critical moments an impulse in every man to think and act independently, under the conviction that no one is so capable as himself of dealing efficiently and effectually with the matter in hand, and when this impulse prevails confusion and disorder follow, and all useful effort is frustrated. Where a number of men are working jointly together there must be a leader—one who will think for and direct the efforts of the rest, and it is essential to success that the orders of that leader should be obeyed. Now, in the present case, my lads, I will do all the thinking and planning and arranging, and if you will do the work quietly, methodically, and steadily there is no reason why all should not be well.