It has been said, that the fore-mast of the Coquette went by the board, with most of its hamper aloft.  The sails, with such portion of the rigging as might help to sustain it, had been hastily cut away as related; and after its fall, until the moment of the explosion, the common men had been engaged, either in securing the staging, or in clearing the wreck of those heavy ropes which, useless as fastenings, only added to the weight of the mass.  The whole wreck lay upon the sea, with the yards crossed and in their places, much as the spars had stood.  The large booms had been unshipped, and laid in such a manner around the top, with the ends resting on the lower and top-sail yards, as to form the foundation of the staging.  The smaller booms, with the mess-chest and shot-boxes, were all that lay between the group in the centre, and the depths of the ocean.  The upper part of the top-rim rose a few feet above the water, and formed an important protection against the night-breeze and the constant washing of the waves.  In this manner were the females seated, cautioned not to trust their feet on the frail security of the booms, and supported by the unremitting care of the Alderman.  Francois had submitted to be lashed to the top by one of the brigantine’s seamen, while the latter, all of the common herd who remained, encouraged by the presence of their standard-light, began to occupy themselves in looking to the fastenings and other securities of the raft.

“We are in no condition for a long or an active cruise, Captain Ludlow,” said the Skimmer, when he and his companion were out of hearing.  “I have been at sea in all weathers, and in every description of craft; but this is the boldest of my experiments on the water.—­I hope it may not be the last!”

“We cannot conceal from ourselves the frightful hazards we run,” returned Ludlow, “however much we may wish them to be a secret to some among us.”

“This is truly a deserted sea, to be abroad in, on a raft!  Were we in the narrow passages between the British islands and the Main, or even in the Biscay waters, there would be hope that some trader or roving cruiser might cross our track; but our chance here lies much between the Frenchman and the brigantine.”

“The enemy has doubtless seen and heard the explosion, and, as the land is so near, they will infer that the people are saved in the boats.  Our chance of seeing more of them is much diminished by the accident of the fire, since there will no longer be a motive for remaining on the coast.”

“And will your young officers abandon their captain without a search?”

“Hope of aid from that quarter is faint.  The ship ran miles while in flames, and, before the light returns, these spars will have drifted leagues, with the ebbing tide, to seaward.”

“Truly, I have sailed with better auguries!” observed the Skimmer—­“What are the bearings and distance of the land?”

“It still lies to the north, but we are fast setting east and southerly.  Ere morning we shall be abeam of Montauk, or even beyond it; we must already be some leagues in the offing.”