I listened attentively. There could be no doubt--those were minute-guns, the well-known signal of distress at sea. We could do but little good, probably; but what good we could do I determined to attempt. My men needed no encouragement. The fact that fellow-creatures wanted help was sufficient to nerve their arms. Had an enemy been in sight, and had there been heads to be cracked, it would have been much the same. Round spun the boat, and away they pulled as hard as they could lay their backs to the oars. The breeze which had cleared off the mist, had likewise got up the sea a little, and the spray flew over our bows as we dashed through the dancing waves. Away we went; the big sea-serpent could not have beaten us. Every minute the low, dull sound of the gun reached our ears, growing louder and louder as we drew nearer the ship. Her distress was evidently great. From the somewhat irregular way the gun was fired, and from its tone, Jack pronounced the ship to be a merchantman, as he remarked that minute-guns from a man-of-war would have been far louder and more regular. The mist, fortunately, did not again settle down thickly over the ship, so that, although twilight was coming on, we could still distinguish her whereabouts. As we drew near, we saw that she was of considerable size, and that all her masts had gone by the board. We were evidently not perceived, even though we had got close up to her, for she continued firing as before. "Now, my lads, we'll let the poor fellows know that we are at hand to help them," I exclaimed; and on this my men joined me in raising a right hearty cheer, which must have given the people on board no unpleasing notice of our approach. There was a pause, as if they were recovering from their surprise; and then it was answered by a shout so feeble, that it sounded more like the sighing of the wind among the crumbling walls of some old building, than a cheer of welcome. It was now too dark to distinguish any one, but I fancied that I saw the heads of several people over the taffrail, as if eagerly watching us. We were soon alongside, when some one attempted to heave us a rope, but it fell short of the boat. We, however, hooked on to the main-chains, and, followed by Jack, I was not long in scrambling on board. A seaman stood there, holding a ship's lantern, which shed a feeble light around, where all was wreck and confusion; and it besides exhibited more strongly his own countenance, which looked haggard and emaciated in the extreme. The greater part of the bulwarks, the spare spars, the caboose, and the boats had been carried away,--indeed, the sea must have made a clean sweep over her; and it seemed not a little surprising, from the appearance of the deck, that any human beings should have remained, and that the ship herself should have escaped foundering. Besides the man who held the lantern, three equally wretched-looking beings came to meet us.