"
Falsten and I agreed with what he said, but I pointed out to him
that he had quite overlooked the fact of there being thirty
pounds of combustible matter in the hold.
"No" he gravely replied, "I have not forgotten it, but it is a
circumstance of which I do not trust myself to think I dare not
run the risk of admitting air into the hold by going down to
search for the powder, and yet I know not at what moment it may
explode. No; it is a matter that I cannot take at all into my
reckoning, it must remain in higher hands than mine."
We bowed our heads in a silence which was solemn. In the present
state of the weather, immediate flight was, we knew, impossible.
After a considerable pause, Falsten, as calmly as though he were
delivering some philosophic dogma, observed,--
"The explosion, if I may use the formula of science, is not
necessary, but contingent."
"But tell me, Mr. Falsten," I asked, "is it possible for picrate
of potash to ignite without concussion?"
"Certainly it is," replied the engineer. "Under-ordinary
circumstances, picrate of potash although not MORE inflammable
than common powder, yet possesses the same degree of
inflammability."
We now prepared to go on deck. As we left the saloon, in which
we had been sitting, Curtis seized my hand.
"Oh, Mr. Kazallon," he exclaimed, "if you only knew the
bitterness of the agony I feel at seeing this fine vessel doomed
to be devoured by flames, and at being so powerless to save her.
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