Roger worked his way to the rack indicated by the man, and fortunately found the handspikes at once. Taking them both, he quickly scrambled back again and handed one to Harry, retaining the other himself. The two lads then prized the points under the mast, and threw all their weight on the shafts, using them as levers. They felt the mast quiver and move slightly. "That's the way, Master Trevose; one more lift like that and I'll be out from under," shouted the man. Roger and Harry again exerted all their strength, the mast rose perceptibly, and they heard a cry of pain from the seaman as he wormed himself from under the spar. "I be out now, Master," came the voice; "if ye can lift me up and get me below, I'll thank ye." One of them supporting him on either side, they raised the unfortunate fellow upright, and with great difficulty assisted him across the deck, and so to the companion-hatch, which they found without trouble, as it was now growing somewhat lighter. The clouds were not quite so thick, and an occasional gleam came from the moon as she was uncovered. They got the man below, Roger taking him on his back down the companion-ladder, while Harry ran for the surgeon. The latter soon made his appearance, and attended to the sufferer, who proved to be an ordinary seaman named Morgan. Having seen the patient off their hands and well attended to, the couple returned to the deck. They found that the wind was lessening every moment, and the clouds were disappearing fast, permitting the moon to shine out fitfully; but the sea, no longer kept down by the pressure of the wind, was rising rapidly. "I think the squall is past its worst, Harry," said Roger. "What we have to fear now is the sea, which will get worse, I am afraid, ere it goes down--but look there! Merciful Heaven! what is that?" he continued, pointing away over their port quarter with his finger. The inky blackness had lifted somewhat, and they could plainly perceive the hull of one of their own ships, presumably; but her ports were open, and her interior appeared as a glowing furnace, while, even as they looked, tongues of fire spurted up from her deck and began to lick round her masts, and from the hapless vessel a long wail of anguish and despair came floating down the wind. Every eye in the ship was at once turned to the burning vessel, which they presently made out to be, by her rig, the _Salvador_, one of the two captured Spanish vessels.