Chapter Fifty Five.
During my short absence, Brace had not been idle.
He had got his little raft compacted—its timbers tied together—and it now carried us both without even dipping under water. The two spars, the dolphin-striker, and half of the spritsail-yard were laid parallel to each other, and transversely to these were the broad pieces, that exhibited in large letters the name of the ill-fated barque. There were several other pieces of timber, a handspike or two, and an oar—which Brace had picked up as he glided towards the head—and over all was a piece of sail-cloth, or tarpaulin. The whole formed a raft just about large enough for two, and safe enough in calm weather, but under a gale, or even a strong wind, such a structure would have been overwhelmed at once.
But my companion had no intention of going to sea with such a craft. His idea had been that he might get it ready before the great raft could be finished, and the sooner escape from the dangerous proximity of the powder. Even if it had taken him quite as long to prepare it, there was still a greater chance of safety by our being so far forward upon the vessel. If the powder had exploded there would have been a chance of our not being blown to atoms. The after-part of the vessel might be shivered in pieces, and, of course, the rest would soon sink; but still, by keeping out by the head, there were many chances in our favour. It was from these considerations that the sailor had hurried away from amidships, and set to making his raft at the bows. It was only intended as a temporary retreat—to enable us at the earliest moment to get beyond the circle of danger; and, should the men succeed in completing the larger structure, ours could afterward be brought alongside and joined on to it.
The large raft was completed as soon as our little one, and all hands had gone down upon it. As I returned on deck to strike up the hatch, I saw not a soul of the Pandora’s crew. They had all gone out of the vessel, and betaken themselves to the raft. From the deck I could not see either them or the raft—as the latter was still close in under the beam-ends of the barque.
As soon as I had got fairly down, my companion pushed off, and the next moment the great raft came under our view. Both it, and those who were on it, were seen as distinctly as though it had been daylight—for the burning vessel was no longer a combination of flame and smoke. Her whole quarter-deck, from the taffrail to the main-hatch, was enveloped in a bright flame that illumined the surface of the sea to the distance of miles. Under this light, we perceived the raft and the men standing or crouching upon it.
They had pushed off some ten or twelve yards from the side of the vessel, in order to be clear of the flames. There was another reason that induced them to get some distance away, and that was the fear that there might be powder aboard. Although no positive alarm had been given to that effect, there existed a doubt about the thing, and they were not without apprehensions. There were other men besides Brace who knew something, or had heard something, about the stolen keg, but who, not being certain about the matter, did not like to make known their suspicions. There might be powder yet; and it was, therefore, with a feeling of relief that all hands had sprung upon the raft, and got it out of the way of such dangerous contingency. No doubt it was this suspicion about the gunpowder that had influenced them all to exert themselves so strenuously in the work. So far as there was any danger from the flames, they might have continued on board a while longer—for it would still be many minutes, before the conflagration could extend forward and embrace the whole of the vessel.
The men had not stayed aboard a moment longer than was required for them to complete the necessary work; and, once on the water, they were seen to be working as anxiously as ever to push off the raft—as though they dreaded contact with the barque from some other cause than the danger of the fire.