The ancient _Mary Chilton_ was a floating tinder box above her waterline. So rapidly did the flames catch on to the decks and bulkheads, it was doubtful whether a man could stay at the wheel long enough to bear down on the first schooner of the down-wind fleet. "She's a floating hell!" bellowed Bill above the crackle and roar of the fire. "Get on your feet, old man! I need you. This is no one-man job." Captain Bert, still groggy, his mind clouded by the blow Bill had given him, crawled to his feet. The smoke stifled him. Yes; Bill was right--it was not a one-man job. It wasn't a job for any man. Bill's eyes ran tears. Black smoke rolling out of the companionway shrouded him. "Here--the wheel--take it!" Bill choked. Captain Bert grasped its spokes and held it steady, holding his breath in the dense smoke as long as he could, then stepping aside to clearer air, exhaling quickly and breathing again. The wind, as if a partner in Bill's scheme, moved the smoke off the port quarter. Dimly, but looming more distinctly, the captain discerned the first schooner ahead. By standing at the starboard side of the wheel, Bill and he could keep their eyes on the fleet. "Look!" Captain Blackmer's eyes were focused on the bow of the first schooner. There stood a man waving his arms. Another form in oilskins stood near him. "They're all safe," encouraged Bill. "We're getting away with it fine. Fire--the wind took us--we lost control. Hold her steady! See--they've got a dinghy in the water--" pointing at the small boat floating beside the big schooner. "But--but look! Look at that name on her bow! Read it!" The bow of the schooner ahead was aglow with the red light from the _Mary Chilton_. "_Mehitable Barnes_," read Bill aloud. "You damned old fool, give me the wheel!" [Illustration] Captain Bert swung the wheel and held on, even after Bill had pounced on him, bearing him to the deck under his greater strength. Like rivets the captain's fingers clung, Bill clawing at them, tearing at them, to wrench them from their hold. Fire tore through the rigging. The blazing craft heeled to starboard, flames shriveling sails and snapping stays and halyards. Over the heads of the two men struggling at the wheel the crimson curtain spread, swept by the rush of the wind at the quick veering movement of the vessel. It was sheets of flame and not canvas that carried the schooner on her course out of the shadow of the _Mehitable Barnes_. Men shouted on the _Mehitable's_ bow as the _Mary Chilton_ floundered past. Blistering heat bore down from the blazing mainsail upon the contestants for the wheel, surged up from below, like the ends of fiendish tongs, gripping the two between.