s pitch, except the light from the blazing stump of the foremast,
appearing like a torch, held up by the wild demons of the storm, or when
occasionally the gleaming lightning cast a momentary glare, threatening
every moment to repeat its attack upon the vessel, while the deafening
thunder burst almost on their devoted heads. All was dismay and
confusion for a minute or two: at last Captain Wilson, who had himself
lost his sight for a short time, called for the carpenter and axes--they
climbed up, that is, two or three of them, and he pointed to the
mizzen-mast; the master was also there, and he cut loose the axes for
the seamen to use; in a few minutes the mizzen-mast fell over the
quarter, and the helm being put hard up, the frigate payed off and
slowly righted. But the horror of the scene was not yet over. The
boatswain, who had been on the forecastle, had been led below, for his
vision was gone for ever. The men who lay scattered about had been
examined, and they were assisting them down to the care of the surgeon,
when the cry of "Fire!" issued from the lower deck. The ship had taken
fire at the coal-hole and carpenter's storeroom, and the smoke that now
ascended was intense.

"Call the drummer," said Captain Wilson, "and let him beat to quarters--
all hands to their stations--let the pumps be rigged and the buckets
passed along. Mr Martin, see that the wounded men are taken down
below. Where's Mr Haswell? Mr Pottyfar, station the men to pass the
water on by hand on the lower deck. I will go there myself. Mr Jones,
take charge of the ship."

Pottyfar, who actually had taken his hands out of his pockets, hastened
down to comply with the captain's orders on the main deck, as Captain
Wilson descended to the deck below.

"I say, Jack, this is very different from this morning," observed
Gascoigne.

"Yes," replied Jack, "so it is; but I say, Gascoigne, what's the best
thing to do?--when the chimney's on fire on shore, they put a wet
blanket over it."

"Yes," replied Gascoigne; "but when the coal-hole's on fire on board,
they will not find that sufficient."

"At all events, wet blankets must be a good thing, Ned, so let us pull
out the hammocks; cut the lanyards and get some out--we can but offer
them, you know, and if they do no good, at least it will show our zeal."

"Yes, Jack, and I think when they turn in again, those whose blankets
you take will agree with you that zeal makes the service very
uncom