“Keep her at N. N. E., Matt; you’ve let her go off a point. Watch the card, man.” “Keep her at N. N. E., sir,” the fellow repeated, shifting his quid to starboard as Freeman walked away. “I’ll see how the lookout does,” the officer thought, “though if every night was like this, there’d be little need of any.” He went forward along the port side. Happening to cast a glance through the open forecastle door, he noticed that the light was out. “That’s queer,” he soliloquized; “it burned brightly enough when I passed by a couple of hours ago.” He entered the door to see if the wick was out of order, or whether all the oil had been consumed. Neither—the lantern was gone! He had just made this discovery, and was leaving the building to ask his men whether any of them had removed the light, when a curious jarring sensation rooted him to the deck. The idea of a submarine earthquake flashed through his brain, but within a second’s time there was a deafening report,—a blinding flash,—a staggering of the bark,—and then flying timbers and bales of merchandise were hurled skyward with awful power. The whole after part of the vessel seemed going up in the air piecemeal! “Great God!” breathed Freeman, grasping the ladder on the forward house. His self-possession soon returned. Already some of the crew had begun to act like lunatics. “Call all hands, and behave like men. The bark’s still afloat, and now three of you come aft with me.” His cool decision inspired confidence, and half a dozen of the crew followed. The canvas began to flap—the bark was badly off her course. Freeman bounded on as he noticed this fact. “That cowardly Matt’s deserted the wheel,” he thought—“or else the poor devil’s been killed.” But the officer stood motionless when he reached the place where the quarter-deck had been—the spot where he had been standing not five minutes since. The whole deck was gone, and in its place was a great cavity that reached from one side of the vessel to the other, and seemed to go down to the very keelson. It was a time for action, and he crept along on the starboard side, walking on a few jagged splinters, and holding to the main brace with his hands. The wheel had been shattered and was useless, while Matt lay against the rail where the force of the explosion had hurled him. “Men, sheet everything home, and move d—d quick! The wheel’s smashed and we can’t steer the bark. Let go all the halyards and sheets, and get her stripped. Work for your lives!” Had the wind been stronger, a serious accident would probably have resulted before the unmanageable vessel could have been relieved of her canvas, but although she careened badly, it was but a few minutes before enough sails had been taken in to avert the threatened danger.