Those in the boats appeared very uncomfortable; and certainly they were much worse off than we were, if it had not been for the uncertainty when the fire might break forth from beneath our feet. Every instant I expected that to take place; and I certainly felt it difficult to say by what means I should make my escape.
A few jars of fresh water were found in the cabin; and, among other provisions, a cask of flour, with which the cook instantly set to work to make bread, and the whole of the day he was engaged in making and in baking it in the caboose. This very seasonable supply of wholesome food kept many on board from dying.
Mr Bell took off, in the dingy, a fair proportion to the boats. The people in them begged him to remain, telling him that the ship might suddenly go down, and that he would be lost; but he replied that he would not desert her and the people, and he instantly returned.
The day passed away without a sail appearing in sight; and darkness, with its attendant horrors, again drew on. Dreadful, indeed, was that night; but it was very different to the last. There was then excitement and activity. Now there was a calmness—at times almost a total silence; but it would speedily be broken by the groans of the dying, and the wails of those who mourned for them.
All attempts to stop the progress of the fire were abandoned as useless. The officers and crew who remained faithful to their trust, took such rest watch and watch, as the state of the case would allow; but we were wet through, and our bed was the hard deck.
Somewhere towards the morning, as I was still asleep, I felt my shoulder touched, and the voice of Flint whispered in my ear, “Peter, my lad, rouse up, and come with us. The ship won’t much longer give us any footing; and it’s as well to leave her when we can.”
“What do you mean, Flint?” I asked, in the same low tone. “You would not have me quit my shipmates?”
“What I mean is, that some thirty of us—some of the crew and some emigrants—have resolved to trust ourselves to a raft, rather than to these burning planks; and that, if we wait till daylight, so many will be attempting to get on it, that we shall be all lost together. I don’t ask you to desert your shipmates, Peter; but self-preservation, you know, is the first law of nature.”
I considered a moment before I spoke. “I am grateful to you, Flint, for your kindness; but I cannot desert Mr Bell,” I replied. “I don’t blame you, remember, for going; but I am differently situated. I am in the second mate’s watch—under his command, as it were; and while he sticks to the ship, so must I.”
While I was speaking, I saw a party of people cautiously engaged in launching the raft. After no slight exertions, they succeeded in getting into the water, though the noise they made disturbed a number of the emigrants.