A slight motion in the fore part of the ship roused him to the necessity for immediate action, and now with eager haste he cautiously felt about, and placed the galvanic battery in a convenient spot, took hold of the reel of fine silk-covered wire, arranged it so that it was not entangled, and then, having assured himself that all was right, he took out his knife and cut the boat's painter, floating now gently away in the wake of the schooner, while as he did so he let the wire run rapidly out so that a connection was kept up. There must have been at least a hundred yards of wire, and the schooner glided away so gently that there was never any stress on the frail metal cord, till the last rings ran off the reel, when Laure, with a cry of exultation, checked the progress softly and felt for the wire's end. The schooner could hardly be distinguished now, and there was not a moment to lose, for if the wire were tightened till it dragged on the boat it must part, so with trembling eagerness the Cuban twisted the slight metal strand twice round his left hand, while with his right he placed the end against the brass connection of the plates in the battery. The work was instantaneous. As he touched the connection with the tiny point of copper there was a hissing noise in the jar, a little point of light darted at the end of the wire, and simultaneously a hundred yards away in the darkness there was a tremendous flash, the darkness was illuminated by a fountain of sparks, which rose high in air, driven by a fan-like wave of flame; the fire curved over, and the sparks fell hissing into the sea. As the flame rose, spreading wider and wider, there was a roar as of thunder, a rush as of the wind in a tempest struck Laure, the boat rocked to and fro, shipping no small amount of water, and the wire twisted round the Cuban's hand cut and bit into the flesh ere it snapped short off. But he did not feel the pain, and saw not the danger to which he was exposed as he gazed straight beyond him at the doomed ship, and exulted in the wild shriek of horror that he had heard as the noise of the explosion died away. He heard no more, for an awful silence fell upon the ocean, now blacker than ever, and rising up in the boat he held out one hand, shaking his fist in the direction where a faint glow told him of burning fragments of the wreck, and then with a shriek of exultation he cried-- "Sink, sink, with your accursed freight. Who wins now?" He tottered as he spoke, and though straining his voice to hurl out his curse at the schooner and those on board, it was but a feeble cry, and he fell back senseless over the thwarts to lie in the bottom of the boat, with the water that had been shipped washing over him. STORY ONE, CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. THE CATASTROPHE.