“Is there picrate of potash on board?” I almost shrieked.
“Yes,” said Falsten, “a case containing thirty pounds.”
“Where is it?” I cried.
“Down in the hold, with the cargo.”
CHAPTER XI.
What my feelings were I cannot describe; but it was hardly in terror so much as with a kind of resignation that I made my way to Curtis on the forecastle, and made him aware that the alarming character of our situation was now complete, as there was enough explosive matter on board to blow up a mountain. Curtis received the information as coolly as it was delivered, and after I had made him acquainted with all the particulars said,—
“Not a word of this must be mentioned to any one else, Mr. Kazallon, where is Ruby now?”
“On the poop,” I said.
“Will you then come with me, sir?”