Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX.

OCTOBER 19th.--Eveything, then, is clear. The uneasiness of the
crew, their frequent conferences, Owen's mysterious words, the
constant scourings of the deck and the oppressive heat of the
cabins which had been noticed even by my fellow-passengers, all
are explained.

After his grave communication, Curtis remained silent. I
shivered with a thrill of horror; a calamity the most terrible
that can befall a voyager stared me in the face, and it was some
seconds before I could recover sufficient composure to inquire
when the fire was first discovered.

"Six days ago," replied the mate.

"Six days ago!" I exclaimed; "why, then, it was that night."

"Yes," he said, interrupting me; "it was the night you heard the
disturbance upon deck. The men on watch noticed a slight smoke
issuing from the large hatchway and immediately called Captain
Huntly and myself. We found beyond all doubt, that the cargo was
on fire, and what was worse,that there was no possibility of
getting at the seat of the combustion. What could we do? Why;
we took the only precaution that was practicable under the
circumstances, and resolved most carefully to exclude every
breath of air from penetrating into the hold, For some time I
hoped that we had been successful. I thought that the fire was
stifled; but during the last three days there is every reason to
make us know that it has been gaining strength. Do what we will,
the deck gets hotter and hotter, and unless it were kept
constantly wet, it would be unbearable to the feet. But I am
glad, Mr. Kazallon," he added; "that you have made the discovery.
It is better that you should know it."

I listened in silence, I was now fully aroused to the gravity of
the situation and thoroughly comprehended how we were in the very
face of a calamity which it seemed that no human power could
avert.

"Do you know what has caused the fire?" I presently inquired.

"It probably arose," he answered, "from the spontaneous
combustion of the cotton. The case is rare, but it is far from
unknown. Unless the cotton is perfectly dry when it is shipped,
its confinement in a damp or ill-ventilated hold will sometimes
cause it to ignite; and I have no doubt it is this that has
brought about our misfortune."

"But after all," I said, "the cause matters very little. Is
there no remedy? Is there nothing to be done?"

"Nothing; Mr. Kazallon," he said. "As I told you before, we have
adopted the only possible measure within our power to check the
fire. At one time I thought of knocking a hole in the ship's
timbers just on her waterline, and letting in just as much water
as the pumps could afterwards get rid of again; but we found the