tle bulkhead!"

The appalling significance of this was plain to the crew. The
bulkhead was a thin partition dividing the forecastle from the hold.

"Archie," Skipper Bill drawled, "you better loose the stays'l sheet.
She ought t' do better than this." He paused. "Fair against the
forecastle bulkhead?" he continued. "Tom, you better get the hatch
off, an' see what you're able t' do about gettin' them six kegs o'
powder out. No--bide here!" he added. "Take the wheel again, Billy.
Get that hatch off, some o' you."

It was the skipper himself who dropped into the hold. The cargo was
packed tight. Heavy barrels of flour, puncheons of molasses, casks of
pork and beef, lay between the skipper and the powder. He crawled
forward, wriggling in the narrow space between the freight and the
deck. No fire had as yet entered the hold; but the place was full of
stifling smoke. It was apparent that the removal of the powder would
be the labour of hours; and there were no hours left for labour. The
skipper could stand the smoke no longer. He retreated towards the
hatch. How long it would be before the fire communicated itself to the
cargo--how long it would be before the explosion of six kegs of powder
would scatter the wreck of the _First Venture_ upon the surface of
the sea--no man could tell. But the end was inevitable.

Anxious questions greeted the skipper when again he stood upon the
wind-swept deck.

"Close the hatch," said he.

"No chance, sir?" Archie asked.

"No, b'y."

The forecastle was already closed. There was no gleam of fire anywhere
to be seen. The bitter wind savoured of smoke; nothing else betrayed
the schooner's peril.

"Now, get you all back aft!" was the skipper's command. "Keep her head
as it points."

When the crew had crept away to the place remotest from the danger
point, Bill o' Burnt Bay went forward to keep a lookout for the rocks
and breakers. The burning forecastle was beneath his feet; he could
hear the crackling of the fire; and the smoke, rising now more
voluminously, troubled his nostrils and throat. It was pitch dark
ahead. There was no blacker shadow of land, no white flash of water,
to give him hope. It seemed as though an unbroken expanse of sea lay
before the labouring _First Venture_. But the skipper knew to the
contrary; somewhere in the night into which he stared--somewhere
near, and, momentarily, drawing nearer--lay the Chunks. He wondered if
the _First Venture_ would strike befor