though he carefully searched the lockers, Harding did not discover any trace of them. The pirates had evidently destroyed everything that concerned either the captain or the owners of the Speedy, and, as the name of her port was not painted on her counter, there was nothing which would tell them her nationality. However, by the shape of her boats Ayrton and Pencroft believed that the brig was of English build.
A week after the catastrophe—or, rather, after the fortunate, though inexplicable, event to which the colony owed its preservation—nothing more could be seen of the vessel, even at low tide. The wreck had disappeared, and Granite House was enriched by nearly all it had contained.
The mystery which enveloped its strange destruction would doubtless never have been cleared away if, on the 30th of November, Neb, strolling on the beach, had not found a piece of thick iron cylinder, bearing traces of explosion. The edges of this cylinder were twisted and broken, as if they had been subjected to the action of some explosive. Neb brought this metal to his master, who was then occupied with his companions in the workshop of the Chimneys.
Cyrus Harding examined the cylinder attentively, then, turning to Pencroft, "You persist, my friend," said he, "in maintaining that the Speedy was not sunk by a collision?"
"Yes, captain," answered the sailor. "You know as well as I do that there are no rocks in the channel."
"But suppose she had run against this piece of iron?" said the engineer, showing the broken cylinder.
"What, that bit of pipe!" exclaimed Pencroft in a tone of perfect incredulity.
"Yes," said Harding, "you remember that before she foundered the brig rose on a regular water-spout?"
"Yes, captain," replied Herbert.
"Well, would you like to know what occasioned that water-spout? It was this," said the engineer, holding up the broken tube.
"That?" returned Pencroft.
"Yes! This cylinder is all that remains of a torpedo!" replied the engineer.
"A torpedo!" exclaimed the engineer's companions.
