Captain Broadbent surveyed her long and steadily through his glass. At length he asked: "What do you make her out, Sandy?" "Can't make her out, sir," was the reply from the knight-head. Something odd about her; looks like mutiny. The crew is rushing about like a swarm of bees. The devil is to pay, or I'm a landsman!" It was Canady, after gazing long and steadily, who solved the riddle. "Fire." "By the beard of Neptune, you're right-the ship is on fire," exclaimed the Captain, and even as the words left his lips a spire of flame, like a devouring sword, streamed upward from the hatchway, illuminating the deck with a red glare and plainly revealing the figures scurrying hither and thither. "Call all hands!" commanded Captain Broadbent; then turning to the helmsman, he called: "Port your wheel and run off so as to round to off the windward of the stranger! Both orders were obeyed on the instant. "There goes her signal gun!" exclaimed Lawrence. "Good God! Look at the poor wretches! See them crowd and jostle each other! "She's a queer looking craft-shouldn't be in the least surprised if she should prove to be a pirate, though what the devil such a craft can be doing in these waters, I can't make out!" grumbled Captain Broadbent, in a puzzled tone. All sail was crowded, and as they neared the sharp-prowed, black, dismal-looking ship, the crew could be seen huddling upon the deck, where they appeared to be lowering the boats, and evidently the officers had lost all control, for nothing like order was apparent. "Who'll volunteer for the rescue?" shouted the Captain of the Nautilus. Colonel Lawrence stepped forward with Canady, and officers and marines followed the example. 66 Avast there! I won't spare the entire ship's crew!" bawled the Captain." Mr. Harrup, clear and man the starboard-quarter and waist boats. You take command of one, and Colonel Lawrence of the other; have everything in readiness to lower away when we heave-to to windward of the burning craft!" In due time the boats were lowered, and as Lawrence took his place in command of the second boat, Canady stepped in beside him. "Give way, lads!" he commanded, and the oarsmen bent to their task with a will that sent the boat dancing across the waves like a cockle-shell, the Colonel standing upright with Canady beside him, the attention of both rivetted upon the vessel they were swiftly nearing. Meanwhile the burning ship's boats, heavily freighted, had put off and were pulling away from the doomed craft; but a little group, who had evidently been left by their companions to perish, were crowding back from the black columns of smoke rolling up from below, mottled with red flames, reaching toward them, darting and lapping like dragon tongues in search of prey. It was an awful scene. The flames were bursting from the fore and main hatchways, and a volume of sulphurous smoke was pouring from the cabin windows, while the devouring monster, creeping at first stealthily along the rigging, outlining them against the sky in crimson silhouette, suddenly streamed out in broad banners. And as the rescuers gazed with fascinated stare, a port-hole belched flame with a roar and recoil that rocked the dark hull, as a gun, heated by the conflagration, hurled a rain of shot whistling dangerously low over the heads of the boats' crews. "Ha! an armed vessel; and that is part of her armament-loaded to the muzzle! Harkee, my lads! That she's a pirate, or something like, I'll lay fifty pounds!" shouted Lieutenant Harrup. "Zounds! there's another!" A second gun roared like a burst of thunder, the sudden flash darting straight through the redder glare of flame bursting from the ship's side like a paler meteoric blaze of lambent light. "Fortunate for us that we are below range! called Colonel Lawrence," else our errand of mercy would cost us dear." Three human figures were crouching closer and closer together, striving to escape the flames fast rolling toward the spot where they had taken refuge. A sheet of fire swept high in air, revealing the faces of the frightened beings, who, with hands uplifted and clasped above their heads, strove to incite the oarsmen of the fast nearing boats to greater exertion, while a long dismal cry arose, but in a language unintelligible to all save the young Canarsee brave. God save us! they are Indians, and manacled! Pull for your lives, lads! Pull!" shouted Lawrence, his dark eyes flashing. Again and again frantic yells rang out over the waters, in response to the shouts from Canady, in the Delaware tongue, and with straining sinews the oarsmen of both boats pulled, the great beads of perspiration rolling down their weather-bronzed faces and the boats leaped forward like living things. Two guns roared in quick succession, but the shot hurtled high overhead. "Tell 'em to jump overboard, Indian!" shouted Harrup; "tell 'em we'll pick 'em up! If the fire reaches the magazine, we shall all be blown to Davy Jones' locker without a minute to say our prayers." The boats were within a cable-length of the burning vessel, and again Canady raised his voice in a deep, guttural call, heard above the roar of the conflagration, shouting a command in the Indian tongue. A long, monotonous wail, the mournful deathchant, was the sole reply, swelling on the air like the cry of a lost soul and dying away in a piteous plaint. "Merciful Saviour! See, they are manacled, hand and foot!" groaned the Colonel, as he gazed with horror-stricken eyes. "God help them!" Two warriors sprang upright, their lithe figures standing out in horrible relief against the background of flame, their long black hair already crisping in the heat, tossed by the hot air of the raging furnace that was blistering their naked shoulders, while for one brief moment they stood confronting the boats' crews, gazing upon them in horrified amazement. And then, throwing up their arms, they bent forward, balanced their half-nude bodies across the rail, and rolled helplessly into the sea, sinking like lead from the heavy weights of their cruel irons, only a circle of swirling water marking the place where they went down. One alone stood upon that fire-begirt pyre, a mere youth, slender and straight as a bronze Apollo. Stretching out his hands he held them over a tongue of flame writhing along the rail. CHAPTER XLI AN OCEAN GRAVE "Down on the vale of death with dismal cries ERHAPS the number of manacles on board had been too few, perchance his youth had rendered the use of irons need less in the estimation of the captain. At all events, the bonds confining the limbs of the Indian boy had been of rawhide, and the fire rapidly shrivelled the ligament connecting the wrists. A lighted splinter applied to the thongs upon his ankles but a moment snapped the bonds. His flesh must have been severely blistered, but with Spartan firmness the lad nerved himself, and as the tough rawhide parted he leaped overboard from the very jaws of the fire-demon as it closed over the spot where he had stood. A few powerful strokes and Lawrence's boat came alongside the strong swimmer, Canady gripped a shoulder and drew him into the boat, while the Colonel, unclasping the cloak from his own neck, wrapped it about the shivering youth. The doomed ship stood wrapped in a windingsheet of flame, fiery serpents entwined her masts, |