“Ssh!” cautioned the midshipman. “We’re all serene so far. Don’t make a noise, or we’ll be out of the frying-pan into the fire.”
“What do you mean?”
“The rival gang’s rowing round to see what’s worth saving,” explained Raxworthy. “If they don’t trouble to break a hole in this chunk of wreckage it’ll keep afloat. They’ll push off soon, I expect; and then we can cut our way out. It’s lucky I found that axe.”
The two conversed in low tones, occasionally pausing to listen to noises from without.
Once one of the victorious pirates prodded the keel with an oar. The noise sounded almost deafening in the confined space. Then, after an animated discussion amongst her crew, the boat rowed away.
Raxworthy had lost all count of time; but at the end of what he judged to be two hours, hearing no ominous sounds outside, he decided that the time for action was at hand.
He realized that they would have to proceed cautiously. If the wreckage were kept afloat by the air trapped in the compartment in which they were imprisoned, the moment the planking was cut through the remains of the junk would sink—and sink before they had time to enlarge the hole sufficiently for them to make their way through.
He hadn’t the faintest idea where the new water-line was. If the wreckage were almost awash the position would be pretty hopeless, since it would be a superhuman task to hack through the massive kelson and keel of the junk, which was now the highest part left of her.
Another disturbing thought flashed across the midshipman’s mind. Supposing the liberated Ah-Foo had got into touch with a British destroyer—and the latter had steamed hard in pursuit of the pirate junk? She’d probably sight the large piece of floating wreckage and would shell it as a danger to navigation. The risks of enemy action Raxworthy was prepared to face. It was part of his profession; but he drew the line at being blown to pieces by a unit of the Royal Navy!
“Make a trial hole first,” suggested the doctor. “Try boring through the bulkhead.”