“No one here,” I whispered, and Jones came through the bulkhead. Presently Hicks followed.
“Better leave the light inside,” he suggested. “They may have some trick to get us out.”
Jones sniffed the air loudly for a few moments.
“What’s the matter?” asked Sir John.
“Seems to me they’ve already played it,” said Jones, coolly. “I smell smoke, an’ I smell it strong.”
“Powder smoke, man; the place is thick with it,” I said, choking and coughing a little.
Jones turned his great face toward me.
“You may be the gunner, Mr. Heywood, you might know,” said he, “but I smells wood. There ain’t no mistake. The barque’s on fire, an’ they’ve nailed us below.”
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE END OF THE BLACK BARQUE
“For God’s sake bring the light,” said Hicks.