Suddenly there was a terrific flash that, compared with the raging flames, was like an arc-lamp and a candle. Almost immediately after came a stupendous roar, like the discharge of a warship's broadside. In the midst of the up-flung volcano of flame appeared the whole of the forepart of the cabin top. With apparent slowness it turned over and over until it fell with a loud splash within twenty yards of the dinghy. Then, with a hiss like the last defiant note of a dying viper, the last of the burning wreckage disappeared from view, leaving the dinghy tossing aimlessly on the heavy waters, surrounded by a pall of darkness that was rendered all the more opaque by the sudden transition from the blazing light.
"What's the time?" inquired Vyse, breaking the silence.
The Sub consulted the face of his luminous watch.
"Half-past two."
"And daylight's not till about seven—four and a half hours. Well, what's the programme? What's the coast like hereabouts?"
"Precious few landing-places," replied the Sub. "Lulworth Cove, Chapman Pool and perhaps Warborough Bay. Might make one of 'em; but the chances are we'd fetch up on Kimmeridge Ledges. The closer inshore we get, the more likely we are to encounter short steep seas. Best keep well out till dawn."
"Perishing cold job," grumbled Rollo, who, before going below for the last time had discarded his oilskin coat. Fortunately for him, the Sub still wore his pegamoid. "And it's not much use talking about getting ashore. We can't row ten miles with one scull."
"That's so," agreed Broadmayne soberly. "I vote we paddle. Take quarter of an hour spells. That'll keep us warm. The fellow who isn't paddling can wear my oilskin coat. Wish we'd had our grub before we started on this little cruise in a tub."
"Luckily we have plenty to smoke," remarked Vyse. "Have a cigarette?"
The word cigarette brought the Sub's thoughts back to the disaster.