As I was sitting on the poop, two of my fellow-passengers,
Falsten, the engineer, and Ruby, the merchant whom I had observed
to be often in company, were engaged in conversation almost close
to me. What they said was evidently not intended for my hearing,
but my attention was directed towards them by some very emphatic
gestures of dissatisfaction on the part of Falsten, and I could
not forbear listening to what followed.
"Preposterous! shameful!" exclaimed Falsten; "nothing could be
more imprudent."
"Pooh! pooh!" replied Ruby; "it's all right; it is not the
first time I have done it."
"But don't you know that any shock at any time might cause an
explosion?"
"Oh, it's all properly secured," said Ruby, "tight enough; I have
no fears on that score, Mr, Falsten."
"But why," asked Falsten, "did you not inform the captain?"
"Just because if I had informed him, he would not have taken the
case on board."
The wind dropped for a few seconds; and for a brief interval I
could not catch what passed; but I could see that Falsten
continued to remonstrate, whilst Ruby answered by shrugging his
shoulders. At length I heard Falsten say,--
"Well, at any rate the captain must be informed of this, and the
package shall be thrown overboard. I don't want, to be blown
up."
I started. To what could the engineer be alluding? Evidently he
had not the remotest suspicion that the cargo was already on
fire. In another moment the words "picrate of potash" brought
me to my feet? and with an involuntary impulse I rushed up to
Ruby, and seized him by the shoulder.
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