Bill and Bark followed the boatswain to the steerage, and were locked into the brig.
“Here we are again,” said Bark, when Marline had returned to the deck. “I did not expect when we left, to come back again.”
“Neither did I; and I don’t understand it,” replied Bill, with a sheepish look. “I certainly fixed things right for something different. I lighted the newspaper, and put it under the hay, sawdust, and boxes. I was sure there would be a blaze in fifteen minutes. I can’t explain it; and I am going down to see how it was.”
“Not now: some one will see you,” added Bark.
“No; everybody is looking at the sights. Besides, as the thing has failed, I want to fix things so that no one will suspect any thing if the pile of hay and stuff should be overhauled.”
Bark made no further objection, and his companion hastened down the ladder. Pulling over the pile of rubbish, he found the newspaper he had ignited. Only a small portion of it was burned, and it was evident that the flame had been smothered when the boxes and covers had been thrown on the heap. Nothing but the newspaper bore the marks of the fire; and, putting this into his pocket, he returned to the brig.
“I shall do better than that next time,” said he, when he had explained to Bark the cause of the failure.
Bill Stout was as full of plans and expedients as ever; and, before the anchor went down, he was willing to believe that “the job” could be better done at another time.