ward manifestation
that another crisis in the history of the _Kansas_ and her human
freight had come and gone.

"The skipper did turn up, you see," said the American, when Tollemache
came to him. The silent man screwed his lips together as if he would
put a padlock on them.

"From your knowledge of the coast, do you think he will be able to
beach the ship?" went on Gray, some humorous imp prompting him, even in
that tense moment, to draw the expected answer from his new friend and
ally.

"Yes, in pieces," said Tollemache, and the reply was neither humorous
nor expected.

[1] Nothing is more certain.

CHAPTER IV

ELSIE GOES ON DECK

As a little yeast leavens much flour so does the presence of a few
stout-hearted men give strength and courage to a multitude. Although
the rumor soon went the rounds that the giant wave which pooped the
ship had carried away two of her six boats, there were no visible signs
of flurry in the measures taken to equip the remaining boats for use.
The men had confidence in their officers; every one worked smoothly and
well.

All told, there were eighty persons on board when the _Kansas_ left
Valparaiso. Of these, seventeen, including the officers, were of
European birth or lineage. The remaining sixty-three were men of mixed
nationalities, ranging from Spanish-speaking Chileans to negroes.
There were eight under-stewards, a cook and his assistants, and nearly
fifty sailors and firemen. Unfortunately, the explosion in the
stokehold had killed the chief engineer and one of his juniors, while
six stokers were dead and several injured.

It was discovered that, before he died, the chief had shut off steam,
and thus prevented the accident from assuming far more serious
proportions. The second engineer, a Newcastle man named Walker, who
rushed to the engine-room at the first indication of a mishap, found
his chief lying in collapse on the lever platform. Walker promptly
opened certain levers which allowed the steam to escape freely; then he
carried his comrade out of the spume to the deck. It was too late.
Partial suffocation had placed too great a strain on a diseased heart;
by the time Dr. Christobal was summoned, a brave man was dead.

Courtenay, who had left instructions that he was to be called when the
Evangelistas light was sighted, was sound asleep. In the elevated
quarters assigned to the captain, the noise of the explosion differed
little from the thunderous b