Chapter Forty Eight.
At this cry all hands rushed toward the after-part of the vessel. I ran with the rest.
On reaching the quarter-deck we found the black cook, “Snowball,” in the hands of the captain and mate, who were beating him with thick ropes, and causing him to “sing out” at the top of his voice. Both were excited and angry—swearing loudly as they struck the blows—and already the man’s back exhibited the keenness of their vengeance.
Some of the sailors—still apprehensive about the cry of fire which they had heard—demanded an explanation, which was immediately given. “Snowball” had gone down to the store-room under the main cabin—for the purpose of drawing brandy from a large cask of this spirit that was kept there. The only access to the store-room was through a small hatch in the floor of the cabin itself; and, as it was bulk-headed off from the rest of the hold, of course the place was quite dark. For this reason the cook had carried with him, as he always did on such occasions, a lighted candle.
It was not clearly explained how he had mismanaged—for the black as well as most of the crew of the Pandora were, ever since the discovery about the water, in a state of half-intoxication. Even at that moment it was evident that both mate and captain were nearly drunk, and gave but half-coherent replies to the eager inquiries of the men—who were still under apprehensions from the cries of fire that summoned them aft.
The accident was afterwards explained by “Snowball” himself. It appeared that the brandy-cask was without a regular tap, or stopcock, and that the cook was in the habit of drawing the liquor through the bung-hole, by means of an ordinary dipper. Somehow or other—of course through the black’s drunken negligence—the burning candle had slipped from his fingers, and dropped right into the bung-hole; and, quick as a flash, the spirit had caught fire, and smoke and flame issued in volumes through the hole.
At first the cook, dreading chastisement, resolved not to make any alarm; but, coming on deck, provided himself as quickly as he could with a bucket of water. With this he returned, and, pouring the water into the cask, endeavoured by such means to stifle the flames. It was all to no purpose—the blue blaze flickered upward as before—each instant becoming stronger, as the brandy itself grew hotter and more of the spirit caught the fire.
It appeared that the cook had made several journeys back and forward from the store-room to the deck, before confessing to what had occurred, or warning any one of the peril in which the vessel was placed.
At length, however, his frequent passing to and fro with the water-bucket attracted the attention of the mate; and then the discovery was made that the brandy was on fire; for the black was now forced to confess the truth.