We all wait in silence, some few on the forecastle, the great proportion of us on the poop.

As for the picrate, for the time we have quite forgotten its existence; indeed it might almost seem as though its explosion would come as a relief, for no catastrophe, however terrible, could far exceed the torture of our suspense.
While he had still the remaining chance, Curtis rescued from the store-room such few provisions as the heat of the compartment allowed him to obtain; and a lot of cases of salt meat and biscuits, a cask of brandy, some barrels of fresh water, together with some sails and wraps, a compass and other instruments are now lying packed in a mass all ready for prompt removal to the boats whenever we shall be obliged to leave the ship.
About eight o'clock in the evening, a noise is heard, distinct even above the raging of the hurricane.

The panels of the deck are upheaved, and volumes of black smoke issue upwards as if from a safety-valve.

An universal consternation seizes one and all: we must leave the volcano which is about to burst beneath our feet.

The crew run to Curtis for orders.