ly increasing in violence since the fire started
and now was blowing almost a gale. It whipped the waves into foam and
whistled and shrieked through the rigging. The fire, fanned by the
breeze, now roared menacingly while its volume increased steadily. It
was only too evident that it would be impossible to remain on board the
_Josephine_ many moments more.

"We'd better get away from here," said Fred nervously, as he watched the
mass of flame and smoke which now enveloped the whole forward part of
the ship.

"When we do leave we won't be much better off," said Pop gloomily.

"Just the same I'd rather take my chances with the ocean than with this
fire," exclaimed Grant.

"Where are we going!" demanded John.

"How do I know!" said Grant. "We must leave, that's sure. What we are to
do after we leave is another matter."

"Stand by to lower away!" came the order.

The four boys sprang to their positions. Petersen and Sam joined them a
moment later. The negro cook was half-crazed with fear and still kept
mumbling to himself, "Dat Finn, dat Finn." Undoubtedly he did not
understand that Petersen was to go on the same boat with him or he would
not have consented to step aboard. Now, in the darkness it was almost
impossible to recognize anybody and Sam probably had no idea who any of
his companions were to be.

"Lower away."

The boats descended rapidly and soon rested upon the water where they
danced and bobbed about like corks on the angry waves.

"Get aboard, Sam," urged Grant.

Making no objection, the negro quickly lowered himself into the waiting
boat. Fred, John, Grant and George followed in order, leaving only
Petersen on board the brig. He stood with the painter in his hand,
awaiting the word to leave.

"Unship your oars," he called.

"All right," answered Grant.

There were two pairs of oars in the boat and every one of the four boys
took charge of one of them. Sam cowered in the bow of the boat
shuddering and still murmuring over and over again, "Dat Finn, dat
Finn."

At the sound of Petersen's voice from the deck above, however, he half
raised himself. "Who dat talkin'?" he demanded.

"One of the sailors," said Grant carelessly, knowing what was passing in
the black man's mind.

"Dat Petersen," said Sam. "Am he comin' on dis heah boat?"

"I don't know," Grant answered evasively.

"He bettah not. He bettah not," said Sam fiercely. "We's had enough hard
luck on account ob dat man already."

"