He gave a short laugh. "Speaking of grub, Captain, how about fresh water? We haven’t much in the boats, and we’re adding a good many to your ship’s company" "I’ve water enough to last a hundred men for a month" I told him "Water enough for washing, and all purposes" The iron tank below the main-deck, five thousand gallons, had just been filled in Liverpool. He looked at me a little incredulously. "Thank God!" said he "I’ve been worrying about that ever since I came aboard. Your American ships go well provided for" The third boat had then come alongside. "Is this your whole outfit, Captain Potter?" I asked. "Good God, no!" he cried "There’s another boat somewhere—if it hasn’t gone down" "We sighted only three. But we’ll find it for you, all in due time" I reassured him. "It’s the second mate’s boat" said he "The poor fellow was half blind from fighting the fire, but he insisted that he could take charge of a boat. He couldn’t have lost her—he was no more heavily loaded than we were. I expect he’s been left somewhere to windward, Captain; we have drifted away from him. You’d hardly believe it, but we had tough work, rowing our strongest, to keep up with the drift of the vessel. My orders were to keep her in company as long as she burned" "Well, if your second mate is to windward, we may have difficulty in reaching him" I pointed out "You see how it is, sir; this will be a living gale inside of an hour. But we will do everything possible. Wait till it grows a little lighter. In the meantime, what about these boats of yours?" "I’m done with them, Captain" he answered "You can do what you like" There were two big steel lifeboats, and a smaller Whitehall boat. "I’ll swing the lifeboats aboard, then, and let the other go" said I "We may have a fire of our own before we reach New York; and my boats would barely accommodate my own ship’s company. Mr. Ridley, rig a preventor lift on the lee main yard-arm, and hoist those two big boats aboard" My mate, I’m sorry to say, had lost his head in the excitement and confusion. A fine old man, an excellent seaman, came from down Deer Island way; but he had outlived his usefulness, as many of us do. He was running fore and aft the ship, accomplishing nothing, and chiefly whining about his sails being slat to pieces. Just as I gave the order to hoist in the boats, the third group of castaways, in charge of the steamer’s boatswain, were coming over the rail. These men were mostly from the forecastle; for she had been heavily sparred, crossed a couple of royal yards, and carried fourteen men before the mast to handle her sails. The boatswain was an impudent little Londoner, every inch a sailor, and one of your old-fashioned chanty-men. He caught my eye from the maindeck, and whipped out his whistle. "Shall I tyke the order, Captain?" he roared through the din. "Go ahead!" I told him, waving my hand. Old Ridley hadn’t heard me, anyway.