The pirate had taken the utmost care, by arranging an old sail over the spot, to prevent the reflection of the light being seen.  It revealed a large mass of oakum and tar.  Into the heart of this he thrust the match, and instantly glided away, as he had come, stealthily and without noise.

For a few seconds the fire smoldered:  for the sail that covered it kept it down, as well as hid it from view.  But such combustible material could not be smothered long.  The smell of burning soon reached one of the marines stationed on the lower deck, who instantly gave the alarm; but almost before the words had passed his lips the flames burst forth.

“Fire! fire! fire!”

What a scene ensued!  There was confusion at first; for no sound at sea rings so terribly in the ear as the shout of “Fire!”

But speedily the stern discipline on board a man-of-war prevailed.  Men were stationed in rows; the usual appliances for the extinction of fire were brought into play; buckets of water were passed down below as fast as they could be drawn.  No miscellaneous shouting took place; but the orders that were necessary, and the noise of action, together with the excitement and the dense smoke that rolled up the hatchway, produced a scene of the wildest and most stirring description.

In the midst of this, the pirate captain, as might have been expected, performed a prominent part.  His great physical strength enabled him to act with a degree of vigor that rendered his aid most valuable.  He wrought with the energy of a huge mechanical power, and with a quick promptitude of perception and a ready change of action which is denied to mere mechanism.  He tore down the bulkheads that rendered it difficult to get at the place where the fire was; he hurled bucket after bucket of water on the glowing mass, and rushed, amid clouds of hot steam and suffocating smoke, with piles of wet blankets to smother it out.

Montague and he wrought together.  The young captain issued his orders as calmly as if there were no danger, yet with a promptitude and vigor that inspired his men with confidence.  Gascoyne’s voice was never heard.  He obeyed orders, and acted as circumstances required; but he did not presume, as men are apt to do on such occasions, to give orders and advice when there was a legitimate commander.  Only once or twice were the deep tones of his bass voice heard, when he called for more water, or warned the more daring among the men when danger from falling timber threatened them.

But all this availed not to check the flames.  The men were quickly driven upon deck, and it soon became evident that the vessel must perish.  The fire burst through the hatchways, and in a short time began to leap up the rigging.

It now became necessary to make arrangements for the saving of the crew.

“Nothing more can be done, Mr. Mulroy,” said Montague, in a calm voice, that accorded ill with the state of his mind.  “Get the boats ready, and order the men to assemble on the quarter-deck.”