Calling his men from their perches, Captain Bugge ordered all lifeboats dropped over the side. Although another explosion was expected momentarily, the sailormen obeyed orders. The chief officer and five men got into the after-starboard lifeboat, and, making it fast, played out their line until they drifted astern 100 yards. With this boat out of the way, the men were prepared to jump and make for it if the fire got to the benzine. Captain Bugge stuck to the bridge until a great wall of water heeled the vessel over and ripped open a tank. Benzine mixed with the spindrift swashed into the flames and drove a liquid blaze over the house. The bridge and chart room were soon stripped of everything in them not made of metal, and the compass, falling from its supports, rolled into the sea. Presently the terrific heat burst another tank and sprayed the sea with fire. The water-soaked line to the trailing lifeboat astern soon crumpled into ashes under the terrific fire the northeaster blew upon it, and, with its occupants, the boat bounded on to the southwest. It was never seen again. The other boats, charred and battered, were useless. When hope had been abandoned, a great wave swept _La Habra_ from stem to stern, and when it passed the flames were gone. The fire was out for good. Throughout the battle with fire and storm no benzine got into the fire room. The broken tanks were now burned out and the tanker was at least safe from fire. Although badly battered by the storm, the tanker’s engines were not damaged, and under her own steam she started on her course to the northeast. Captain Bugge had nothing to guide him but the sun. His bridge compass was gone, and the one astern made useless by the fire. He said he had an idea where the Azores might be, and finally got into Horta safely. Captain Dekker, of the _Zaandyk_, said he believed that the Norwegian master would eventually get to London with the remainder of his benzine cargo. Ore-steal Stories of the Early Days. Stories of famous steals put across when ore was sampled in the old-fashioned way are being retold by old-time miners of Denver, Col. Tales of the stirring days when Leadville was a city of tents and Colorado miners, hot-blooded young fellows who came West to dig gold from the earth or die, are being circulated around hotel lobbies and office buildings of Denver, just as they went the rounds of Colorado mining camps forty years ago. The story of the $41,000 difference between the Cresson mine people and their smelting company over the assaying of samples taken from the wonderful golden chamber discovered in the great strike in their Cripple Creek property has quickened the memories of the old miners and brought to their recollection tales of the good old days, when they wielded the pick and shovel.