A minute later he reappeared, followed by an object whom they had some difficulty in recognising as Jack Derringer. He was black as a sweep. His clothes were in tatters and smouldering in places; most of the hair on one side of his head was singed off, and he was evidently very exhausted. On reaching the deck he swayed unsteadily, and then toppled over in a faint. "One o' them locoed critters who don't know when they've got enough," growled Broncho, as he soused a bucket of water over the inanimate form. "You go to blazes!" came in faint tones from the senseless man, and two rows of gleaming white teeth appeared in the blackened countenance of the rover, as his lips curved in a smile and he slowly opened and shut one eye. Jack was only overcome by the fumes of smoke, which had got into his lungs, and the fresh air and cold water rapidly revived him. Presently he sat up. "It's no use," he exclaimed. "The ship's saturated with oil, and will be in a blaze fore and aft in half an hour." And the flames and smoke, which were now bursting through the scuttle, gave point and emphasis to his remarks. "Which is the best of the whaleboats, Tari?" he continued. "De starbo'd boat on de quarter." "Well, jump's the word, boys. Hustle, we've got no time to lose. Broncho, you and Tari fill the water-breakers belonging to the boats; Jim and I will get the grub on deck." Working with a will, they got the whaleboat over, and whilst Tari and Jim jumped into her, Jack and Broncho passed the provisions along. She was a magnificent boat, a fine specimen of New Bedford handiwork, and held a vast amount without any overloading. The four boat-breakers were passed in, a keg of biscuits, and enough salt horse to last close on a month with care; then a huge tarpaulin, a spare mast and sails from one of the other boats, four Winchester rifles and ammunition, whilst the three white men each buckled on a revolver and belt of cartridges. This armament was Jack's forethought, for he knew that possibly they might find themselves amongst the Paumotu or Low Archipelago of atolls, which had got a very bad reputation and lay right in their course for either Tahiti or the Marquesas. The sextant was not forgotten, or the chronometer; and even oilskins, blankets, and spare clothing were handed aboard. Whilst the small ship's company worked hard to provision the whaleboat, the old oil-sodden _Ocmulgee_ was blazing furiously. The whole of her, forward, was now a mass of flame, which with long yellow tongues went licking out to the end of the jibboom and up the tarred shrouds aloft. The foresail and topsails soon caught fire, and, with the blazing jibs and rigging, lit up the scene until the castaways were working as if by daylight. At two bells in the first watch the fore-topmast came down with a crash, a mass of sparks like a St. Catherine's wheel; then, plunging into the sea with a loud hiss, it lay dead, a blackened, charred wreck.