“One deck, or two!”—­he added; “what avails a plank, more or less, in an explosion?—­Follow!”

The free-trader and his people disappeared in the interior of the ship.  An interval of great and resolute exertion succeeded.  Blankets, sails, and everything which offered, and which promised to be of use, were wetted and cast upon the flames.  The engine was brought to bear, and the ship was deluged with water.  But the confined space, with the heat and smoke, rendered it impossible to penetrate to those parts of the vessel where the conflagration raged.  The ardor of the men abated as hope lessened, and after half an hour of fruitless exertion, Ludlow saw, with pain, that his assistants began to yield to the inextinguishable principle of nature.  The appearance of the Skimmer on deck, followed by all his people, destroyed hope, and every effort ceased as suddenly as it had commenced.

“Think of your wounded;” whispered the free-trader, with a steadiness no danger could disturb.  “We stand on a raging volcano!”

“I have ordered the gunner to drown the magazine.”

“He was too late.  The hold of the ship is a fiery furnace.  I heard him fall among the store-rooms, and it surpassed the power of man to give the wretch succor.  The grenade has fallen near some combustibles, and, painful as it is to part with a ship so loved Ludlow, thou wilt meet the loss like a man!  Think of thy wounded; my boats are still hanging at the stern.”

Ludlow reluctantly, but firmly, gave the order to bear the wounded to the boats.  This was an arduous and delicate duty.  The smallest boy in the ship knew the whole extent of the danger, and that a moment, by the explosion of the powder, might precipitate them all into eternity.  The deck forward was getting too hot to be endured, and there were places even in which the beams had given symptoms of yielding.

But the poop, elevated still above the fire, offered a momentary refuge.  Thither all retired, while the weak and wounded were lowered, with the caution circumstances would permit, into the whale-boats of the smugglers.

Ludlow stood at one ladder and the free-trader at the other, in order to be certain that none proved recreant in so trying a moment.  Near them were Alida, Seadrift, and the Alderman, with the attendants of the former.

It seemed an age, before this humane and tender duty was performed.  At length the cry of “all in!” was uttered, in a manner to betray the extent of the self-command that had been necessary to effect it.

“Now, Alida, we may think of thee!” said Ludlow, turning to the spot occupied by the silent heiress.

“And you!” she said, hesitating to move.

“Duty demands that I should be the last—­”