etourneur held his son tightly clasped to his
bosom. I saw Falsten calmly consult his watch, and note down the time
in his memorandum-book, but I was far from sharing his, composure, for I
was overcome by a nervous agitation that I could not suppress.

As far as we knew, Lieutenant Walter, the boatswain, and such of the
crew as were not with us, were safe in the bow; but it was impossible
to tell how they were faring because the sheet of fire intervened like a
curtain, and cut off all communication between stem and stern.

I broke the dismal silence, saying "All over now, Curtis."

"No, sir, not yet," he replied, "now that the panel is open we will set
to work, and pour water with all our might down into the furnace, and
may be, we shall put it out, even yet."

"But how can you work your pumps while the deck is burning? and how can
you get at your men beyond that sheet of flame?"

He made no answer to my impetuous questions, and finding that he had
nothing more to say, I repeated that it was all over now.

After a pause, he said, "As long as a plank of the ship remains to stand
on, Mr. Kazallon, I shall not give up my hope."

But the conflagration raged with redoubled fury, the sea around us was
lighted with a crimson glow, and the clouds above shone with a lurid
glare. Long jets of fire darted across the hatchways, and we were forced
to take refuge on the taffrail at the extreme end of the poop. Mrs.
Kear was laid in the whale-boat that hung from the stern, Miss Herbey
persisting to the last in retaining her post by her side.

No pen could adequately portray the horrors of this fearful night. The
"Chancellor" under bare poles, was driven, like a gigantic fire-ship
with frightful velocity across the raging ocean; her very speed as it
were, making common cause with the hurricane to fan the fire that was
consuming her. Soon there could be no alternative between throwing
ourselves into the sea, or perishing in the flames.

But where, all this time, was the picrate? perhaps, after all, Ruby
had deceived us and there was no volcano, such as we dreaded, below our
feet.

At half-past eleven, when the tempest seems at its very height there
is heard a peculiar roar distinguishable even above the crash of the
elements. The sailors in an instant recognize its import.

"Breakers to starboard!" is the cry.

Curtis leaps on to the netting, casts a rapid glance at the snow-white
billows, and turning to the helmsman shouts