CHAPTER XXVII.
A STRANGE WRECK.
"Well, boys, we got here just in time," observed Mr. Billings, as the boat cut through the water.
"I'm not so sure that we have arrived in time to avert a tragedy," said Jack, and he told of the shooting that he had witnessed.
"Probably a mutiny," said Mr. Billings, with the voice of experience. "The crews on those old tramps are the riff-raff of a hundred ports. Bad men to handle in an emergency."
He had hardly finished speaking when, borne toward them on the wind, which was setting from the burning, sinking ship, came a most appalling uproar. It sounded like the shrieks of hundreds of passing souls mingled with deep roars and screeches.
Even Mr. Billings turned a shade paler under his tan.
"In the name of heaven what was that?" he exclaimed.
As he spoke a huge tawny form was seen to climb upon the rail of the rusty old steamer and then launch itself into the sea with a mighty roar.
"A lion!" exclaimed Jack, "by all that's wonderful, a lion."