“Is it sarpents?” inquired an Irishman, “oh, me darlint, if that was all we had to contind wuth, I'd curl him up like the worm uv a still, wid the crass I've got, but it's the thunderin' sharks that'll make short work uv a body, and divil a crass'll pravint thim.” “Now, these things,” said Jonathan, holding up a gum elastic, “they calls life presarvers; why, I swow tu gracious, if they aint more like patent forks, tu hold a fellar up, while the consarned lake varmints nibbles his legs off, comfortably.” A large fat lady, who had provided herself with an enormous sized preserver, was in a dreadful way to know if her chance for floating was at all probable. “Why, bless you, Marm,” said the mate, “there's wind enough about you to float a whaler.”--The fat lady became tranquil with this assurance. It was now proposed by the captain, to cut a hole through the vessel's deck, and pour in water directly upon the fire; this being the only hope for saving the vessel, it was instantly adopted, and willing hands in a few moments made the opening, into which the boat's hose was turned, and in a brief period, the engineer reported the heat abating. The spirits of all on board revived on hearing this intelligence, and a further application of the counter element removed all grounds for fear. As the horrors of their late situation disappeared, the light house at the mouth of Cleveland harbor rose in view, calming the fears of all, and marking in its welcome proportions the scene of rest for our wandering hero. What here chanced to befall him we shall reserve for our concluding chapter. CHAPTER V. HIS ENCOUNTER WITH OLD FRIENDS.