Chapter 13

CHAPTER XIII.

OCTOBER 24th to 29th.--For the last five days the sea has been
very heavy, and although the "Chancellor" sails with wind and
wave in her favour, yet her progress is considerably impeded.
Here on board this veritable fireship I cannot help contemplating
with a longing eye this vast ocean that surrounds us. The water
supply should be all we need.

"Why not bore the deck?" I said to Curtis. "Why not admit the
water by tons into the hold? What could be the harm? The fire
would be quenched; and what would be easier than to pump the
water out again?"

"I have already told you, Mr. Kazallon," said Curtis, "that the
very moment we admit the air, the flames will rush forth to the
very top of the masts. No; we must have courage and patience; we
must wait. There is nothing whatever to be done, except to close
every aperture."

The fire continued to progress even more rapidly than we had
hitherto suspected. The heat gradually drove the passengers
nearly all, on deck, and the two stern cabins, lighted, as I
said, by their windows in the aft-board were the only quarters
below that were inhabitable. Of these Mrs. Kear occupied one,
and Curtis reserved the other for Ruby, who, a raving maniac, had
to be kept rigidly under restraint. I went down occasionally to
see him, but invariably found him in a state of abject terror,
uttering horrible shrieks, as though possessed with the idea that
he was being scorched by the most excruciating heat.

Once or twice, too, I looked in upon the ex-captain. He was
always calm and spoke quite rationally upon any subject except
his own profession; but in connexion with that he prated away the
merest nonsense. He suffered greatly, but steadily declined all
my offers of attention, and pertinaciously refused to leave his
cabin.

To-day, an acrid, nauseating smoke made its way through the
panellings that partition off the quarters of the crew. At once
Curtis ordered the partition to be enveloped in wet tarpaulin,
but the fumes penetrated even this, and filled the whole
neighbourhood of the ship's bows with a reeking vapour that was
positively stifling. As we listened, too, we could hear a dull
rumbling sound, but we were as mystified as ever to comprehend
where the air could have entered that was evidently fanning the
flames. Only too certainly, it was now becoming a question not
of days nor even of hours before we must be prepared for the
final catastrophe. The sea was still running high, and escape by
the boats was plainly impossible. Fortunately, as I have said,
the main-mast and the mizen are of iron; otherwise the heat at
their base would long ago have brought them down and our chances
of safety would have been much