e sea on
each beam, but nothing ahead or astern; nor could he hear voices on deck
unless pitched in a high key, for the men, their training strong upon
them, remained forward.

There was nothing on either horizon at present. The boat was storming
along to the southward, as he knew by a glance at the "telltale"
overhead, and all seemed well with the runaways until a sudden stopping
of the engines roused him up, to peer out the deadlights, and speculate
as to what was ahead.

But he saw nothing, from either side, and strained his ears for sounds
from the deck. There was excitement above. Voices from forward came to
him, muffled, but angry and argumentative. They grew louder as the men
came aft, and soon he could distinguish Jenkins' loud profanity,
drowning the protests of the others.

"She's afire and her boats are burned. There's a woman aboard. I tell
you we're not going to let 'em drown. Over with that boat, or I'll
stretch some o' you out on deck-- Oh, you will, Forsythe?"

Then came a thud, as of the swift contact of two hard objects, and a
sound as of a bag of potatoes falling to the deck, which told Denman
that some one had been knocked down.

"Go ahead with the machine, Sampson," said Jenkins again, "and forward,
there. Port your wheel, and steer for the yacht."

Denman sprang to a starboard deadlight and looked. He could now see,
slantwise through the thick glass, a large steam yacht, afire from her
mainmast to her bow, and on the still intact quarter-deck a woman
frantically beckoning. Men, nearer the fire, seemed to be fighting it.

The picture disappeared from view as the boat, under the impulse of her
engines and wheel, straightened to a course for the wreck. Soon the
engines stopped again, and Denman heard the sounds of a boat being
lowered. He saw this boat leave the side, manned by Hawkes, Davis,
Forsythe, and Kelly, but it soon left his field of vision, and he
waited.

Then came a dull, coughing, prolonged report, and the voices on deck
broke out.

"Blown up!" yelled Jenkins. "She's sinking forward! She's cut in two!
Where are they? Where's the woman? That wasn't powder, Riley. What was
it?"

"Steam," answered the machinist, coolly. "They didn't rake the fires
until too late, I suppose, and left the engine under one bell possibly,
while they steered 'fore the wind with the preventer tiller."

"They've got somebody. Can you see? It's the woman! Blown overboard. See
any one else? I don't."