William Thornton turned round, and sure enough beheld the Vulcan fire-ship, Captain Stacey, entering the basin, towed by several boats. The Commander placed the Vulcan, in a masterly manner, right across the tier of the men of war. About two hours afterwards the Swallow and the gun-boats were ordered to withdraw. They had scarcely receded a few hundred yards, when the trains laid to the different magazines were fired, and the flames ascended in terrific grandeur; but unfortunately the fire-ship, the Vulcan, from an accident, also ignited, and burst into a sheet of flame awful to behold. The effect of this tremendous light cast over the whole adjoining waters, and lighting up the basin and town near it like noon-day, was extraordinary. The Republicans, now distinctly seeing the situation of the British, set up furious outcries and shouts of vengeance, opening, at the same time, a terrific fire. “Well, this is hot work enough, Charley,” said our hero, regarding the scene before him with wonder and admiration. They were within fifty yards of the Union gun-boat, Lieutenant O’Loughlin; and astern of her was another gun-boat. So vivid and brilliant were the flames, that every feature of the countenances of those on board the boats were distinctly recognisable. At this moment, as our hero was ordering the crew to drop the trailed latine sail forward, an awful and astounding explosion took place. The Swallow reeled under the shock, apparently lifted from the waters and dashed down again, the crew thrown one over the other. Regaining his feet, bewildered by the shock, William Thornton perceived the Union sinking, and the other gun-boat astern actually in pieces, having been blown into the air.[3] Immediately, our hero leaped into the boat they were towing, and reached the side of the sinking gun-boat, picking up Lieutenant O’Loughlin and the rest of the crew, excepting three that had been previously killed. “Am I all together, William?” exclaimed Lieutenant O’Loughlin; “for, by St. Patrick, I felt as if every limb I had went sporting different ways. What was it—an earthquake?” “I can’t say; it shook us nearly to pieces, dismounted our two guns, and rolled our mainyard out of us.” “Thank God!” exclaimed Sir Sidney Smith, pulling up in an eight-oared gig, “that so few lives have been sacrificed by that horrible explosion.” “What was the cause of the explosion, Sir Sidney?” demanded Lieutenant O’Loughlin, giving himself a shake to satisfy himself that he was all right. “Those accursed Spaniards,” said Captain Smith, “instead of scuttling the Iris frigate, set fire to her, and she had some thousand barrels of gunpowder on board. But make way for the basin; we must complete what those Spaniards have only partly begun.”