IX
Although the ammunition in the magazine had been greatly depleted during the fight, the explosion was sufficient to destroy every man on deck who had so far escaped death by the bullet. It was not, however, sufficiently powerful to blow the junk to smithereens. The force of the detonation was localized, with the result that the junk was rent asunder amidships.
The bow portion remained floating and only just awash, while twenty feet or so of the stern remained bottom upwards and was prevented from sinking by air trapped in what was once the “run aft” of the junk.
And in this confined space, partly stupefied by the concussion, were Raxworthy and his companion in misfortune.
The midshipman had been in more than one tight corner, but the stark horror and uncertainty of the situation froze the blood in his veins. He knew that the junk—or what remained of her—had capsized and that the doctor and he had survived the explosion. But whether their prison was still afloat or slowly sinking to the bed of the sea, he knew not. He imagined what would happen if it were sinking. Sooner or later the as yet watertight planks would collapse under the enormous pressure. Death would come swiftly when it did, but before it did there was that agonizing suspense, waiting in utter darkness for the end.
After a little while the midshipman grew calmer. He became aware of the “lift” of his prison. Obviously the upturned portion of the junk still remained afloat.
Then his sense of hearing reasserted itself; the concussion had temporarily deafened him.
He heard voices. He strained his ears to listen.
Some craft nearby were being propelled by oars. Boats from the victorious junk were looking for survivors, not with the object of saving life, but that of making assurance doubly sure, according to piratical standards. The men in the boats were talking loudly in Chinese. That dispelled Raxworthy’s faint hopes that the destroyer of the pirate junk was a British or a Japanese warship.
“Good heavens! What’s happened?” ejaculated his companion.