et reached its crisis: but they were not destined to remain much
longer in doubt.

Just at this moment a jet of red flame shot upward through the smoke--it
was followed by another, redder and more voluminous--then another, and
another, until the blaze rose continuous, and stood several feet in the
air.

The moon became eclipsed by the brighter light--the whole vessel was
yellowed over, as if the sun had returned above the ocean.

The crackling of the burning timber now sounded in their ears--the fire,
having escaped from the embrace of its own smoke, seethed fiercer, and
rose higher into the air, until the top of the ascending flames could be
seen through the grating of the hatches.

But it needed not that the flames should be seen--their light, and the
hissing, crackling noise that proceeded from them, proclaimed the dread
nature of the catastrophe.

Then arose a cry--a wild, agonising cry--out of the bosom of that dark
hold--out of the hearts of that ill-fated crowd--a cry that for some
moments drowned the fierce seething of the flames, and the crashing,
crackling sounds of the fire. I shall never forget that cry--none who
heard it could fail to remember it till their last hour.

It was just at this crisis that I had turned to look back. Awful was
the sight that met my eyes--awful the sounds that fell upon my ears.
Under the bright gleam of the blazing ship, I saw the black faces and
round woolly heads pressing against the bars of the grating. I saw
glaring eyes, foaming lips, and teeth set in terror, glittering white
under the corruscation of the flames. I saw smoke oozing up the grated
hatch--the fire was fast creeping forward--its foul harbinger was
already among them--oh! what an awful sight!

I could not bear it--I could not have borne it in a dream--it was too
much for human eyes--too much for the heart of man. My first impulse
was to turn away, and glide down beside my companion--who was waiting
patiently upon the raft below.

This was my first impulse, which suddenly gave way to another. My eye
had fallen upon the axe--still lying across the bowsprit-shrouds, where
Brace had thrown it.

The weapon suggested a purpose; and, eagerly seizing it, I faced once
more towards the burning vessel. My purpose was to return on deck--
strike off the batten--and set the grating free. I knew the risk--I had
forgotten the presence of the powder--but if it were to be my death I
could not restrain myself from