uare, ramshackle shed!

Paul made his way through into the shed, and a minute later Harry
followed his example. They closed the trap-door, which then formed part
of the floor, and completely concealed the opening into the shaft.

"Well, if that doesn't beat all!" exclaimed Harry, as the trap-door
fell. "Mr. Zuker and his confederates must have been very tricky. No one
would imagine what's beneath this old shed. Hallo! What's that?"

As Harry spoke a lurid gleam of light lit up the semi-darkness of the
shed; only for an instant; then it as quickly died out.

"Seems like a fire somewhere," said Paul, as he tried to open the door
of the shed; but it would not open. It was locked on the outside.

"We shall have to get through the window, Harry."

There was a small window on the right of the shed, just wide enough to
get through.

"All right. Follow my leader, Paul."

Paul soon mounted to the window and climbed through. Harry quickly
followed him. As he reached the ground there came another lurid gleam of
light; then it died out as quickly as before.

"There it goes again, Paul. What is it?"

Paul was asking himself the same question. What was it? Whence did the
light come? It was a dark night--no moon and few stars. But in the
distance they could see lights flitting about like will-o'-the-wisps
from the mastheads of ships; so they knew they were not far from the
Medway.

"Thought so. We're close to the river," said Paul. "Now that we've found
out all that we can, we'd better make for Garside."

"Yes. Hallo! there it goes again! Why--why, it's a ship on fire!"
exclaimed Harry.

It was now clear enough to see that Harry was right. A ship was on fire.
The flames, at first spasmodic, uncertain, had now gained a complete
hold of the ship, and were shooting upward, like fiery serpents, into
the sky.

All thought of Garside vanished from the boys' minds as they raced
towards the river. As they drew nearer, they could see that the unusual
spectacle had already attracted a great throng of spectators to the
banks.

Little wonder, for as the flames crept upward to the rigging, writhing
inward and outward to the arms, it was a grand, if terrible sight. And
there was pathos in it, too; for the ship on fire was one of the great
wooden ships in the Navy of the past. Its day of action--of
fighting--had long since passed. So, moored in midstream, it had been
used as a storeship.

The signal-lights "Ship on Fire" flashed