Chapter 49 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
It needed no conjuror to explain that report. Every one knew what it meant. It was caused by the exploding of the strong iron-bound cask—burst open by the gas engendered by the fire within. Of course the spirit was now spilled over the floor of the store-room and everywhere on fire; so that every combustible article within reach—and of these there were many—would soon catch the flame. There were dry barrels of biscuits, and quantities of bacon, hams, with lard, oil, and butter. It was remembered that there was a barrel of pitch, too, close to where the brandy-cask had been kept. All these would catch freely and burn rapidly and readily—especially the barrel of pitch, the head of which was open. It was thought there was no gunpowder for, although there had been a large quantity of coarse blasting-powder aboard, it was part of the original freight, and had all been delivered to King Dingo Bingo in exchange for the slaves. So at least was it supposed at the time, and this hypothesis served a useful purpose—since it enabled the crew to act with more coolness than they would otherwise have done. There is no situation more calculated to destroy presence of mind than to be aboard a ship on fire, and to know that somewhere among the flames there is a barrel of powder.
Of course the crew of the Pandora did not stand idle or inactive. They ran in every direction in search of means to extinguish the fire. Buckets were collected from all parts of the deck, and water was procured from pumps and over the sides. This was heaved down the hatchway of the store-room—bucketful after bucketful—but apparently without any good purpose. Still the flames raged and the water did not reach them; at all events, it failed to extinguish them.
Of course no one dared venture below. The smoke and fire forbade it—any attempt to go down would have been a rash sacrifice of life, and no one thought of making it.
For nearly ten minutes the men continued to draw water, and dash it in bucketsful down the hatchway; but all to no purpose. The fire gained strength. The smoke grew thicker and hotter, from the pitch and other combustible substances that had now evidently caught the flames. It poured up in vast volumes till the cabin became filled. It was no longer possible to approach the hatchway, no longer possible even to enter the cabin. One or two who ventured in were half-stifled before they had gone six feet inside, and came reeling back like men who were drunk!
The buckets were thrown aside. They could no longer be of service—as no one could get near the hatchway to pass water down it, and it was of no use throwing it elsewhere.
But the hour of despair had not yet arrived. Sailors are men who rarely yield to despair; at all events not while the slightest chance remains to beget hope; and, bad as may have been their moral character, the crew of the Pandora were not cowards. Linked with a thousand crimes they had the one virtue of courage—though brute courage it may have been.
Not yet did they despair. Other resources were now thought of. A piece of hose was attached to the spout of the pump, and carried to the door of the cabin; and by means of this water was still poured in.
But this contrivance proved unavailing. The mouth of the hose could not be got into the hatch, as it was impossible any longer to enter the cabin, and the water was spilled on the floor. It so chanced that the stern of the vessel sat high. The casks that had been emptied were all in the after-hold, while the full ones containing the sea-water were stowed forward. Hence the barque was higher abaft than at the bows. For this reason the water thrown upon the cabin floor by means of the hose-pipe, instead of remaining there, came running back towards the gangways as fast as it was poured in.
This produced a new consternation; for the men had conceived hopes that, after deluging the cabin from the pumps, the water would run through the open hatch and then extinguish the fire below.
As soon as it was perceived that this purpose could not be accomplished, then, indeed, did symptoms of despair make their appearance upon the faces of the crew; and they began to turn their eyes upon one another with glances of interrogation and looks that proclaimed the knowledge that their plan had proved a failure. No one had the courage to say so, and the pumping went on—though it was evident, from the slowness of the motion and the want of energy exhibited, that the men who were working the handle were exerting themselves, only with a sort of mechanical effort that would soon yield to despondency and despair.
And so it yielded. Without any one saying a word, all seemed tacitly to have arrived at the same conclusion—that their efforts were idle; and all at once the pumping was suspended, the handle was dropped, the hose-pipe lay flattened along the deck, and the water ceased to flow!
By this time the whole after-part of the vessel was shrouded in smoke that had been oozing out from the door and windows of the cabin, and which, in consequence of the stillness of the night, was not carried away. Slowly it ascended into the air, and so straight upwards that the edge of the cloud had not yet approached the main-deck—although the whole of the mizen-mast was enveloped by the thick smoke and invisible to its very peak. Most of the quarter-deck covered, and the cabin was now completely hidden from view by the vapoury volume that clustered above and around it. As yet there was no flames to be seen, but the hissing, crackling sound coming up from below, at intervals fell upon the ear, and told that the fierce element was still raging there, and would soon exhibit itself in all its red and terrific splendour.
No one waited to watch its progress. No longer did any one think of attempting to extinguish, or even to check the fierce destroyer. All hopes of saving the vessel were given up; the Pandora must be abandoned; and now was heard that heart-thrilling summons to the sailor—that last despairing cry—
“To the boats! to the boats!”