In a few seconds it would reach the powder. “’Tis for life or death,” said Ned. With a fearful leap he descended into the lower hold. All was pitch-darkness around him. Save the bright red fusee spluttering and burning not a glimmer of light could be seen. He groped his way along the bottom of the ship. But when least he expected it, he was grasped by a skeleton hand! With an oath, Wildfire Ned drew his dirk. A terrible conflict ensued. One minute more, and the magazine would explode. “We shall die together, young Warbeck!” said the skeleton. And now began a duel which never had equal before. In that dark hold they struggled for mastery. It was a terrific struggle. At last, with a mighty effort, Wildfire Ned snatched up a small hatchet which his foe had let fall. With one fearful blow he crushed in the skull of his grim enemy. With a loud shout and laugh of triumph Wildfire Ned ran towards the deadly fusee. The sparks were even then sputtering near to some waste powder. In a second more all would be lost. He fell upon the fusee! He quenched its flame carefully in his hand. Next instant, with a mighty blow of the axe, he smashed in the magazine door. With a cry of joy, Ned saw before him the stolen bride! She was tied unto several powder barrels! This was Death-wing’s especial order! Ned cut the cords which bound her, and let in a torrent of sea-water into the powder and swamped the magazine. The bride was insensible. He took her in his arms and hurried to the hatchway. Then a fearful cry was heard from above. “I defy you!” roared the terrible voice of Death-wing. “In one moment more the ship will be blown in the air. Ha! ha! the powder magazine is open! the fusee is burning. Away, my men, away to your rendezvous on shore! One moment more and Lord Walton’s sister will be a black and charred mass—vengeance against Wildfire Ned! eternal enmity is between us!” “The ship is on fire!” Ned heard Garnet shouting. “Where is young Warbeck?—the ship is on fire in two places!” “Help! help!” cried Ned, from the bottom of the lower hold. His voice was heard from above. “Help! help!” In a moment, Garnet and Bob Bertram, with a few others, threw down the end of a long rope to Ned. Young Warbeck tied it round his body. Clasping the unconscious maiden in his arms, he was being drawn out of the hold, when the flames burst out all around him. “Quick! quick! or we shall perish,” said Ned. “Those Skeleton fiends have fired their vessel in several places.” “Pull away, lads, pull away!” shouted Garnet. The flames increased every second. And yet with all the efforts of the seamen, Ned could not get higher than the lower hold. The rope had caught in some bolt or block below! Here was a perilous position. The flames were now almost all around him. He hung suspended between life and death. In a second more the forked flames would catch the maiden’s dress.