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"No, no," said Captain Dale, good-humoredly, "I cannot let you all go. Here, Mr. Stewart," addressing his first lieutenant, "you will take command of one boat, and—ah! Mr. Stanley, I see by your eager look how anxious you are to lend assistance. Well, you can take charge of the other boat; and," he added, lowering his voice, "look out for the magazine. Now, be off, and God speed you!"

"Ay, ay, sir," came cheerily from a score of lips, as the hardy seamen bent to their oars.

"Give way, my lads!" cried Fred, as he sprang into the stern-sheets and waved his cap in the air.

The men bent to their oars with a will, and the boat cut like a sea-gull through the waters. Fred still stood with his eyes fixed on the burning ship—his handsome face all aglow with excitement.

The scene was inexpressibly grand and terrific. The flames were now bursting out from every part of the ship; while a dark, dense cloud of sulphurous smoke clouded the blue sky above. The fiery monster ran up the shrouds and rigging, twining its fierce tongue around the masts; while occasionally the sullen booming of a gun would float over the waters, as her armament, heated by the flames, went off. The affrighted crew were huddled together—by their frantic gestures and wild signs, striving to urge the boats still faster on, as they beheld the flames rapidly approaching the spot where they stood.