The skipper, as soon as he had given utterance to the appalling speech, sank back upon his seat; and, pulling along with the rest, the gig moved rapidly away.
I say that the astounding intelligence deprived me of the power of motion, and equally so of speech. It occurred to me to ask for an explanation—an additional averment as confirmation of its truth; but, before I could recover myself, it was too late—the boat was almost beyond hail. It would be no use shouting after. They would not hear, or, if they did, would not heed me; and what mattered it, for I could not doubt but what the man had said was meant as serious truth. Though not sober, he would hardly have jested then, and in such a fashion. The time and the circumstances were too solemn for jest—even for him, unfeeling fiend that he was.
No; he had spoken but the truth—the simple truth. Beyond all hope of a doubt there was a barrel of powder on board the Pandora!
Where was it? In the store-room, now filled with fire? where else was it likely to be? on the half-deck, or in the hold? No—not probable—none of us had ever seen it there. There had been no powder observed in any part of the vessel to which the common sailors had access; none since the cargo was delivered to King Dingo. It must then be in the store-room, or in the captain’s own state-room? in either case contiguous to the flames—in either case close to where I was standing!
The thought roused my senses from the state of stupefaction into which they had fallen. The idea of self-preservation gave me new energies; and I lost no time in hastening away from the spot. It was a mere instinct to place myself as far from the danger as I could. I sprang from the poop and ran forward upon the main-deck.
I was now at a loss as to how I should act. My first impulse had been to rush forward among the men and proclaim the intelligence communicated by the captain. I was on the point of doing so, when some good angel seemed to whisper “prudence.”
I was always considered a boy of “quick-parts,” and the life I had been lately leading had wonderfully sharpened my intellect. Just then it occurred to me, if I divulged the terrible secret it could do no good, but on the contrary, might beget great mischief. I saw that the sailors were exerting all their strength to get out the boat, and were making what haste they could. No power on earth could have caused them to go faster. The dread of the flames, now beginning to flow through the cabin-windows, was stimulus enough. Any additional dread would only paralyse them. I determined, therefore, to keep the fearful knowledge within my own breast. I thought of imparting it only to Ben, and for him I now went in search.
I soon discovered him. He was among a crowd up over the davits, working with all his might. I could not get near him, and of course could not communicate with him without being overheard by the others. I therefore resolved to remain sole possessor of the dread secret till a better opportunity offered itself.
I set to work with the rest, heaving and hauling; but, amidst all I had but one thought. I scarce knew what was going on, or what I was myself doing. I was every moment in expectation of that loud report—that horrible explosion that would fling us all into eternity! I worked mechanically and often wrong; once or twice I caught myself hauling the wrong way. Some of them noticed this and rudely kicked me aside. Oh! the keen apprehension!
The boat was at length cleared of the bulwarks and swung over the sea; and then the lowering commenced. This operation was not so difficult, and in a few minutes more she rested upon the water. The men gave a cheer at their success.