he falls, and Paddy
Button was just turning to trundle forward again when the captain
seized him.

"Into the dinghy with you," he cried, "and row these children and the
passenger out a mile from the ship--two miles, three miles, make an
offing."

"Sure, Captain dear, I've left me fiddle in the--"

Le Farge dropped the bundle of things he was holding under his left
arm, seized the old sailor and rushed him against the bulwarks, as if
he meant to fling him into the sea THROUGH the bulwarks.

Next moment Mr Button was in the boat. Emmeline was handed to him, pale
of face and wide-eyed, and clasping something wrapped in a little
shawl; then Dick, and then Mr Lestrange was helped over.

"No room for more!" cried Le Farge. "Your place will be in the
long-boat, Mrs Stannard, if we have to leave the ship. Lower away,
lower away!"

The boat sank towards the smooth blue sea, kissed it and was afloat.

Now Mr Button, before joining the ship at Boston, had spent a good
while lingering by the quay, having no money wherewith to enjoy himself
in a tavern. He had seen something of the lading of the Northumberland,
and heard more from a stevedore. No sooner had he cast off the falls
and seized the oars, than his knowledge awoke in his mind, living and
lurid. He gave a whoop that brought the two sailors leaning over the
side.

"Bullies!"

"Ay, ay!"

"Run for your lives I've just rimimbered--there's two bar'ls of
blastin' powther in the houldt."

Then he bent to his oars, as no man ever bent before. Lestrange,
sitting in the stern-sheets clasping Emmeline and Dick, saw nothing for
a moment after hearing these words. The children, who knew nothing of
blasting powder or its effects, though half frightened by all the
bustle and excitement, were still amused and pleased at finding
themselves in the little boat so close to the blue pretty sea.

Dick put his finger over the side, so that it made a ripple in the
water (the most delightful experience of childhood). Emmeline, with one
hand clasped in her uncle's, watched Mr Button with a grave sort of
half pleasure.

He certainly was a sight worth watching. His soul was filled with
tragedy and terror. His Celtic imagination heard the ship blowing up,
saw himself and the little dinghy blown to pieces--nay, saw himself in
hell, being toasted by "divils."

But tragedy and terror could find no room for expression on his
fortunate or unfortunate face. He puffed and he blew, bulging