And the dead man?
“There is only one explanation,” muttered Clif. “He was caught in the conning tower by the jamming of the door, and the fright killed him. Gorry! no wonder. Waiting for a ton of gun cotton to explode under one’s feet is enough to kill anybody.”
That the fire did not reach the explosives was evident. The rolling and pitching of the boat had probably tossed a lot of dunnage upon the flames and extinguished them.
Clif hastened forward to acquaint his companions with the discovery. He found the steam whistling merrily from the exhaust pipes. Trolley was trying the engine, and the other two were still feeding the furnace.
Clif’s explanations were received with wonder. Nanny anxiously inquired if the fire was really out and, on being assured that it was, he returned to his task of shoveling.
Twenty minutes later the Japanese youth announced with a triumphant blast of the whistle that all was in readiness for a start.
Clif had succeeded in finding a book of charts. After careful figuring, he decided on a course. It was more or less guesswork, but he believed that he could at least take Le Destructeur into the path of vessels bound to the Mediterranean.
Taking his place at the wheel, the young captain signaled the engine-room. Trolley responded gallantly, and the torpedo boat’s screw began to revolve.
An enthusiastic cheer came from the fire-room force which had hastened to the upper deck to see the start.
Clif found the steering rather difficult at first, but he soon learned the wheel and brought the bow around toward the speck on the distant horizon which represented the launch.