It was—and more. It was a merciful interposition of Providence!
There were three flag-officers, four post-captains, and several others of lesser rank, in addition to a number of blue-jackets in the immediate neighbourhood of the exploded gun when it burst; but, strange to say, although the muzzle of
the weapon had been blown off completely from the chase at the trunnions, and some hundred-weight of the fragments scattered in all directions, many of them piercing the deck and screen bulkhead, every one fortunately escaped injury.
While exchanging congratulations with the other officers, all at once Captain Dresser looked about him for Bob.
But, nowhere was he to be seen in sight.
“By Jove, he must have been blown overboard, and that was the splash in the water I heard!” he exclaimed in alarm; and, turning to his friend the young lieutenant, as they now advanced further forward to have a nearer view of the still smoking gun, he said, “Where, Neville, did you last see the boy?”
“There!” replied the young officer, pointing to the ledge outside the bulkhead, just over the iron ladder-way that led down to the fo’c’s’le, the scene of the accident. “He cannot well have fallen overboard from there!”
“No,” assented the Captain, doubtfully; still at a loss to account for Bob’s mysterious disappearance. “Where can the boy be, though?”
They were just about instituting an organised search through the ship, both in great anxiety; when, who should crawl up from below but the missing young gentleman!