“It was that night at ten that, for the first time since we had been fighting it, we saw the fire.  The speed of the towing had fanned the smoldering destruction.  A blue gleam appeared forward, shining below the wreck of the deck.  It wavered in patches, it seemed to stir and creep like the light of a glowworm.  I saw it first, and told Mahon.  ’Then the game’s up,’ he said.  ’We had better stop this towing, or she will burst out suddenly fore and aft before we can clear out.’  We set up a yell; rang bells to attract their attention; they towed on.  At last Mahon and I had to crawl forward and cut the rope with an ax.  There was no time to cast off the lashings.  Red tongues could be seen licking the wilderness of splinters under our feet as we made our way back to the poop.

“Of course they very soon found out in the steamer that the rope was gone.  She gave a loud blast of her whistle, her lights were seen sweeping in a wide circle, she came up ranging close alongside, and stopped.  We were all in a tight group on the poop looking at her.  Every man had saved a little bundle or a bag.  Suddenly a conical flame with a twisted top shot up forward and threw upon the black sea a circle of light, with the two vessels side by side and heaving gently in its center.  Captain Beard had been sitting on the gratings still and mute for hours, but now he rose slowly and advanced in front of us, to the mizzen-shrouds.  Captain Nash hailed:  ’Come along!  Look sharp.  I have mail-bags on board.  I will take you and your boats to Singapore.’

“‘Thank you!  No!’ said our skipper.  ‘We must see the last of the ship.’

“‘I can’t stand by any longer,’ shouted the other.  ‘Mails—­you know.’

“‘Ay! ay!  We are all right.’

“‘Very well!  I’ll report you in Singapore. . . .  Good-bye!’

“He waved his hand.  Our men dropped their bundles quietly.  The steamer moved ahead, and passing out of the circle of light, vanished at once from our sight, dazzled by the fire which burned fiercely.  And then I knew that I would see the East first as commander of a small boat.  I thought it fine; and the fidelity to the old ship was fine.  We should see the last of her.  Oh the glamour of youth!  Oh the fire of it, more dazzling than the flames of the burning ship, throwing a magic light on the wide earth, leaping audaciously to the sky, presently to be quenched by time, more cruel, more pitiless, more bitter than the sea—­and like the flames of the burning ship surrounded by an impenetrable night.”

*****

“The old man warned us in his gentle and inflexible way that it was part of our duty to save for the under-writers as much as we could of the ship’s gear.  According we went to work aft, while she blazed forward to give us plenty of light.  We lugged out a lot of rubbish.  What didn’t we save?  An old barometer fixed with an absurd quantity of screws nearly cost me my life:  a sudden rush of smoke