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Updated: June 28, 2025
After considerable pause, Mr. Falsten, as calmly as though he were delivering some philosophic dogma, quietly 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.
Not until eight o'clock on the morning of the 23rd was the work complete. The hole was bored obliquely in the rock, and was large enough to contain about ten pounds of explosive matter. Just as the picrate was being introduced into the aperture, Falsten interposed:
They are as follows: Mr. and Mrs. Kear, Americans, of Buffalo. Miss Herbey, a young English lady, companion to Mrs. Kear. M. Letourneur and his son Andre, Frenchmen, of Havre. William Falsten, a Manchester engineer. John Ruby, a Cardiff merchant; and myself, J. R. Kazal- lon, of London.
Curtis received the information as coolly as it was delivered, and after I had made him ac- quainted with all the particulars said, "Not a word of this must be mentioned to anyone else, Mr. Kazallon. Where is Ruby, now?" "On the poop," I said. "Will you then come with me, sir?" Ruby and Falsten were sitting just as I had left them.
Very likely Falsten wrote them upon a leaf torn from his memorandum-book. But be that as it may, the eleven names were there, and it was unanimously agreed that the last name drawn should be the victim. But who would draw the names? There was hesitation for a moment; then "I will," said a voice behind me.
To-day the breeze has dropped entirely, but the heavy swell is still upon the sea, and is an unquestionable sign that a tempest has been raging at no great distance. The raft labors hard against the waves, and Curtis, Falsten, and the boatswain, employ the little energy that remains to them in strengthening the joints. Why do they give themselves such trouble?
Falsten, as soon as he had set fire to the match, joined us in our retreat. The train was to burn for ten minutes, and at the end of that time the explosion took place; the report, on account of the depth of the mine, being muffled, and much less noisy than we had expected. But the operation had been perfectly successful.
Falsten, the boatswain, Dowlas, Burke, Flaypole, Sandon, and last, though not least, "Robert Curtis, captain." At Para we soon found facilities for continuing our homeward route. A vessel took us to Cayenne, where we secured a passage on board one of the steamers of the French Transatlantic Aspinwall line, the "Ville de St. Nazaire," which conveyed us to Europe.
Falsten and I agreed with what he said, and I pointed out to him that he had quite overlooked the fact of there being thirty pounds of explosive 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.
The night was not very dark, and I could see that Curtis had returned to his post upon the poop; whilst in the extreme aft near the taffrail, which was still above water, I could distinguish the forms of Mr. and Mrs. Kear, Miss Herbey, and Mr. Falsten The lieutenant and the boatswain were on the far end of the forecastle; the remainder of the crew in the shrouds and top-masts.
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