“The hold of a vessel is apt to be a damp place.”
“Damp! I tell you it was wet!” protested Bill; and the mysterious circumstance seemed to awe and alarm him.
“Certainly no water could have been thrown upon the fire,” persisted Bark.
“How happens it to be wet, then? That’s what I want to know.”
“Do you think any water was thrown on the straw?”
“I don’t see how it could have been; but I know it was wet,” replied Bill.
“Very likely the dry stuff burned off, and the wet straw would not take fire,” suggested Bark, who was good for accounting for strange things.
“That may be; I did not think of that,” mused Bill. “But there is a pile of old dunnage on the starboard side, and some more straw and old boxes and things there; and I will try it on once more. I have got started, and I’m going to do the job if I hang for it.”
“Wait till Salter has been in again before you go below,” said Bark.
Bill was content to wait. To his desire for freedom, was added the feeling of revenge for being committed to the brig when all hands were about to make a voyage in the Prince. He was determined to destroy the Tritonia,—more determined than when he first attempted the crime. In a short time the chief steward made another visit to the steerage, and again returned to the cabin.