t the moment,
were as mysterious as any. He was on the forward part of our little
craft, kneeling upon the planks and using his oar in the manner of a
paddle. I saw that he was endeavouring to direct our course towards the
raft; so as I with the handspike; but my companion, instead of working
leisurely and deliberately--as he had hitherto been doing--was now
rowing with all the haste and strength he could put into his arms--as if
he was in dread that the raft would get away from us, and was doing his
utmost to overtake her!

He had said nothing as yet; but I could see his features distinctly
under the brilliant light, and the expression upon them, as well as the
earnest endeavours he was making to increase our speed, convinced me
that he, too was under some feeling of terror.

Was it the fear of being left behind by those on the raft? No; it could
not be that; for, though neither was going faster than a cat could swim
we were evidently making better speed than they; and it was plain we
were getting nearer them at every stroke of the paddle. The great raft,
indeed, lay like what it was--a raft of logs; and, although the men had
oars, it was only with great difficulty it could be pushed along, and
moved slowly and heavily through the water. Why should Brace be at all
uneasy about our overtaking it?

But it was not that that was urging him to such haste. The conjecture
only held possession of my thoughts for an instant. In the next instant
I perceived the cause of terror. I saw what alarmed both my companion
and the crew upon the raft.

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.

Up to that instant I had not looked back towards the burning barque. I
would rather not have done so. I dreaded to look back; moreover, I was
so eagerly employed in helping to propel our floating plank that I had
scarce time for looking around.

Now, however, I was constrained to raise my head and glance back upon
that terrific spectacle. It explained at once why the crew of the
_Pandora_ were so eager to be gone from the spot.

The fire had burned forward to the stump of the main-mast, and, fed by
the large quantities of black pitchy ropes--the shrouds, stays, and
ratlines--was sending up strong bursts of smoky flame. Red tongues were
shooting out forward, as if to grasp the rigging of the fore-mast that
still stood untouched. But the most singular, or rather the most awful,
part of the scene was that presented on the foredeck and the whole
for