Things remained in this state for two or three days. I cannot affirm that the minds of all were perfectly free from apprehension; yet, as strict watch was kept, and nothing except that disagreeable smell of gas was apparent to confirm my fears, I felt a little more at rest. The third day, as Capt. Lunt was watching one of the large ventilators on deck, he saw something having the appearance of smoke escaping therefrom. He sprang down be{60}tween decks—there was no appearance of smoke or fire whatever; raised the lower hatch—all appeared as usual. He then ordered the second mate to dig down into the coal, and soon proofs beyond a doubt were too apparent. The coal was so hot, it could not be taken in the hand. The whole body of coal, two or three feet below the surface, was red hot. The same preparations for a life on board a burning ship were again repeated that it had been my fortune twice previously to witness. In this instance, we had not to contend with the elements of wind and water as well as fire; for the ocean, at times, was as smooth and transparent as a glass. For a time, Captain Lunt shaped his course for the Galapagos Islands, what wind there was being favorable to waft us in that direction; and, our distance from the islands and the main-land being nearly equal, he was undecided for some time which port would be our destination. Being within the tropics, the weather was exceedingly pleasant—almost too much so for our benefit. For several days in succession, it would remain perfectly calm. The nights were beautifully serene; not a cloud, or the slightest film of vapor, appeared on the face of the deep blue canopy of the heavens. The moon, and countless starry host of the firma{61}ment, exhibited their lustrous splendor in a perfection of brilliancy unknown to the night-watchers in the humid regions of the Atlantic. The ship would be lying listlessly upon the surface of the unbroken waste of waters, while our minds were constantly agitated between hope and fear,—hope, that each morn, as the golden orb of day appeared rising from old ocean’s bosom, that, ere she bid us farewell at eve, some welcome sail would come to the rescue; and fear, as each returning day numbered disappointed hopes, and increased the heat on ship-board, that we were indeed a doomed crew. At night, signal-lights were kept burning, in the hope of attracting the attention of some vessel which might be passing. For days look-outs were stationed aloft, and more than once were our ears gladdened with the joyful cry of “Sail, ho!” which as often proved a vain illusion. The strained vision and anxious solicitude of those on the look-out caused them to imagine they saw that which they vainly desired to behold.