On came the vessel—under oars—straight for the creek where the raft lay. There could be no doubt now that they had been seen.
While they gazed in blank dismay, utterly unable to decide on any course of action, an event occurred which totally altered the aspect of affairs. Suddenly, as if by magic, the pirate-ship was converted into a great black-and-white cloud, from out of which there shot an indescribable mass of broken spars and wreckage which fell in all directions in a heavy shower into the sea. Two seconds later and there came a roar as if a crash of the loudest thunder had rent the sky. The powder-magazine had been fired, and the pirate-ship had been blown literally to atoms!
When the last of the terrible shower had fallen, nothing whatever of the vessel was to be seen save the floating morsels of the wreck. It was, we might say, a tremendous instance of almost absolute annihilation.
Recovering from the shock of horror and surprise, Sam Shipton ran swiftly down to the spot where the raft lay, followed by his companions.
“There may be some left alive!” he cried. “Quick—shove her off. Yonder’s a pole, Robin, fetch it.”
Another minute and they were afloat. Pushing with the pole, sculling with the rude oar, and paddling with a plank torn off, they made for the scene of the explosion.
“I see something moving,” said Stumps, who, having no implement to work with, stood up in front and directed their course.
Soon they were in the midst of the débris. It was an awful sight, for there, mingled with riven spars and planks and cabin furniture, and entangled in ravelled cordage, lay the torn lifeless remains of the pirates. Sharks were already swimming about in anticipation of a feast.
“Did you not see symptoms of life somewhere?” asked Sam, as he stood beside Stumps, and looked earnestly round.
“Yes, I did, but I don’t now—O yes! there it is again. Give way, Slagg, give way. There!”