The engineer seized Walter by the waist and leaped overboard.—[See page 234.]
CHAPTER XXVIII.
SHORE LIFE.
The little party on the beach remained as if spell-bound while the fire destroyed what seemed like the last link which bound them to home. The only sounds to be heard, save the roaring of the flames, were when a deep, quivering sigh came from Walter's lips, or Joe gave vent to a suppressed groan.
The fire leaped and danced as if in fiendish glee, devouring the wood-work of the Sea Bird, and warping the machinery beyond all further usefulness, until there was no longer anything above water for it to feed upon. Then slowly, with many a protesting hiss and puff of steam, it gradually died away, the last smouldering ember expiring in less than two hours from the discovery of the danger.
Nothing was left of what had been a jaunty little craft save the blackened lines which marked the position of the hull lying in six feet of water.
When all was over and the smoke no longer arose, Bob said with an evident effort:
"Well, lads, we're what you might call shipwrecked at last, though it jes' the same as took two good vessels an' a tug to finish us up. Whinin' won't do any good, an' we've got to make some kind of a start at buildin' a hut, for we're here till a craft puts in by mistake an' takes us off."
"I'm the one to blame for this last disaster," Joe said moodily. "Nobody but a fool would have left a roaring fire in the galley without so much as looking at it now and then!"