their hammocks, and, without waiting to pull on their
clothes, dashed for the open decks. From far below black-faced stokers
ran up the companion ladders and burst out on the topside.

"Man the lifeboats! Everything overboard!" sang an officer through a
megaphone.

The signal gongs were clanging automatically all through the ship.
They would continue to do so for full five minutes, giving no excuse
for any one to be left on board. Boats and rafts were going over at a
rapid rate, the great cranes swinging out the heavier boats with speed
and precision. Most of the men were working coolly while others--the
newer men on board--were showing signs of excitement.

A red-haired boy came dashing up to the top of the superstructure.

"What's the matter--what's the matter?" he shouted.

"Oh, the ship's on fire," answered some one.

"On fire--where?"

"Over there. She's going down. You'll have to hurry or you'll get
caught in the suction. Look over the side and you'll see the fire
coming right up out of the sea."

Sam Hickey dashed to the side of the ship and leaned forward to peer
over. He did not know that the rope railings had come down at the
first alarm in order to facilitate putting over the rafts and other
deck equipment.

When Sam leaned, there was nothing to lean upon. The result was that
he toppled right on over.

"Man overboard!" came the familiar cry. "Cast the life rings."

"Look out below there. Man overboard!" roared an officer through his
trumpet.

"Where away?" answered a voice from the boats down in the darkness.

"He fell over from topside," answered another.

"Who is the man?"

"Seaman Hickey."

"Find him, find him! What are you doing down there, you lazy lubbers?
You stand there letting a man drown without making an effort to save
him!"

"Who's drowning?" demanded a voice over the heads of the men in the
small boats.

"Hickey; Seaman Hickey!"

"Pshaw! Seaman Hickey isn't drowning, and I don't believe the ship's
on fire, either. What's the matter with you fellows! Whole ship's
been having bad dreams, I guess."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Hickey. I guess I ought to know."

"Where are you?"

"I'm sitting on top of the steamer's awning just now, but if you wiggle
around much more below there, I'll be in the foaming brine."

"Is that you, Hickey?" called an officer from the quarter-deck.

"Yes, sir."

"How did you get there?"

"Fell here, sir. I didn't jump, sir. H