CHAPTER XIX
Blown Up
To play the part of a bold hero, I suppose I ought to have made adash for the burning train and put out the fire. But I did nothingof the kind--I simply stood still and watched with horror-strickeneyes the dim glimmer of the fuse. Even had I had the presence ofmind and the courage to make the attempt, the ordering of thebarrels would have prevented me, for the train was laid 'twixt tiersstanding so close together that there was scarce a hand's widthbetween their bulging sides.
Already I regarded myself as doomed to die a swift and terribledeath, but remembering my comrades in the boat, I backed away fromthe hatchway. I tried to raise a warning shout, but not a sound savea feeble gurgle could I utter. My tongue clave to the roof of myparched mouth, while my heart beat like a sledge-hammer.
Dipping my hand in the water that flooded the floor of the hold, Imoistened my lips, then--
"Push off, men!" I shouted. "A fuse!"
The effect of my warning was instantly plain. The man who hadaccompanied me on deck leapt into the long-boat, and I heard thescraping of their oars as the crew pushed off with feverish haste.
Now that I look back upon this matter, I can scarce blame them. Theyacted according to my orders, combined with the thought ofself-preservation. Doubtless in their panic they knew not whetherone or two persons had leapt from the ship's bulwarks into the boat.But be that as it may, they rowed off with all their might and leftme to my fate--and a hideous one at that.
Yet, as the explosion had not taken place, I gathered courage, andseizing the rope by which I had descended into the hold, I began toswarm up it. Suddenly, although it had appeared sound and had bornemy weight before, it parted like pack thread, and I fell on my backin the hold, where the water broke my fall.
I was on my feet in an instant, now alert to take every possiblechance of saving myself, and seeing a shaft of light in the dimrecesses of the after hold, I waded down the sloping planks till thewater rose to my shoulders.
A few strokes sufficed to bring me to where a small hatchcommunicated with the main deck, for the water was here so high thatby raising my arm I could grasp the coaming of the hatchway.
Though my sodden clothing seemed like lead as my body drew clear ofthe surface, I managed to drag myself through the opening and gainthe deck, where, without a moment's hesitation, I rushed on to thepoop, and sprang over the taffrail into the sea.
I must have dived to a depth of from two to three fathoms, for Icould see the rocky bottom of the sea a few feet below me; and justas I was on the point of ascending to the surface, I heard the roarof the explosion.
It seemed as if the drums of my ears were broken by the concussion,while the water was agitated by a sudden current, or eddy, thatswept me along the bottom. I remained underneath till I couldcontain my breath no longer, then with a few strokes I rose to thesurface.
All around a heavy, pungent cloud, or rather haze, of smokeenveloped everything, though towering above me I could discern theoutlines of the ship's poop. That, at all events, had withstood theshock and had proved my salvation, for the pieces of shatteredtimber were still falling, many of them being shot skywards to aterrific height.
I trod water for a space till all danger from the falling debris wasover, then, swimming round the scorched and shattered side of theship, I found a place where the timbers had been torn away right tothe water's edge.
Half-suffocated by the fumes, for many of the planks stillsmouldered, I made my way aft to where the poop deck remainedpractically intact; and utterly done up, I threw myself down, toodazed to realize that I had been miraculously preserved.
How long I remained in that position I cannot tell, but at length Istaggered to my feet and looked around.
The ships of the escaping buccaneers were still visible, thoughnearly hull down. They had hauled to the wind and were standing on anortherly course parallel with the eastern shore of the island.
Looking round the harbour, I could see the _Golden Hope_ and the_Neptune_, their sides crowded with men, while within a few hundredyards of them was the long-boat, rowing slowly, with her gunwalebarely showing. So she had not escaped unhurt, I reasoned.
Of the vessel on which I stood nearly two-thirds had quitedisappeared, while of the quarter-deck only a few blackenedcrossbeams and ribs remained. All around were pieces of timber ofall sizes and shapes, slowly drifting shorewards with the floodtide.
The black flag, with its grinning skull and crossbones, was trailingin the water under the wreck's quarter. This would serve for asignal, so, hauling it on board, I lashed it to a pike, which inturn I fastened to an iron socket that at one time had supported thepoop lantern.
My signal was soon observed, and a boat was put off from the_Neptune_; and while awaiting her arrival I ran below and made asecond examination of the cabins and after hold. Most of the formerwere luxuriously furnished, though they had suffered severely, fromboth our shot and the effect of the explosion. Yet, brief as was myinspection, I saw that two of them were used as store places, andthat they were filled with the loot of many an unfortunate vessel.Gold and silver ornaments and plate, coins of a dozen differentcountries, and other precious goods filled the lockers. To me itseemed enough for the ransom of a king.
Looking through the hatch by which I had escaped from the hold, Iperceived how nearly the whole of the treasure had been lost to us,for now, plainly visible in the flooded after-magazine, were barrelsof powder, far more than the fore part of the ship had contained;while from one of them a wisp of tow floated towards the surface.Its charred end showed how near had been the consummation of thebuccaneers' diabolical plan, for when the magazine was flooded thefuse had burned to within a foot of the powder.
Great was the astonishment of the men to find me alive and unhurt,for although I had been seen standing on the poop, no one on theship had recognized me. My clothing was rent, and my damp hair hungover my face, which was black with charcoal, smoke, and dust.Captain 'Enery had concluded that I had perished in the explosion,and that the figure they had seen on board was that of one of thebuccaneers, who, on the vessel being blown up, had swum off from aneighbouring shoal.
"The wreck is full of treasure," I announced, and on hearing thegood news the boat's crew gave a hearty cheer. Some were for makingtheir way on board, but the coxswain sternly ordered them to remainin the boat.
"The stuff is safe enow," said he, "and all will share and sharealike when the time comes. There's plenty of work to be done beforewe trouble about what's aboard yon craft."
This was the case, for when the boat put me once more aboard the_Golden Hope_ I found all hands busily engaged in clearing up thedamage done in the fight. The work of making good the mischief donealoft would take weeks of continuous labour, though the spars of thewrecked buccaneer could be utilized to replace our own, for,trailing over the side, they had escaped the force of the explosion.
But though the ships suffered severely, our loss in men was far moreto be deplored. The Golden Hope had eleven killed and fifteenwounded, including Captain Jeremy, and the _Neptune_ nine killed andseventeen wounded. In the stockade, however, not a single man hadbeen hit. Thus, including the six men who were missing after ourfutile expedition to recover the treasure, only one hundred andtwenty-eight were fit for duty, and of these nearly two score hadreceived slight wounds.
My first act on returning on board was to see how Captain Jeremy wasprogressing. I found that he was sleeping peacefully, his woundhaving been carefully dressed; and that, should no feverish symptomsmake their appearance, his recovery would be but a matter of a fewweeks. As quietness was a necessity, it was planned that he shouldbe carried ashore to the stockade with the rest of the wounded onthe following day, so as not to be disturbed by the shipwrights andriggers at their work.
That night, as I lay on my bunk, I pondered over the words of theold friar, Pedro Lopez. Surely we had gone through enough bloodshedand fire to fulfil the exacting conditions that had to be carriedout ere we recovered the tr
easure? Would not the facts that a scoreof our men were awaiting burial on this far-off island, and thatover thirty more were groaning on the ballast, serve to appease thewrath of the slaughtered Spaniards? And when I thought of my ordealby fire, and my terrible position as I waited for the crash of theexplosion, I prayed that we had seen the last of our perils.
It must have been about eight bells of the middle watch (4 a.m.),ere it was light, when a sharp rattle of musketry caused me toawaken with a start. Hastily rushing on deck, I found our menalready standing to their guns, while on shore a desperate conflictwas in progress.
The stockade was attacked on all sides.