"Aloft there, men!" cried the boatswain with a swagger, giving a long blow on his whistle "Here’s a bloomin’ deck under yer feet again, an’ Di-vy Jones’ll wyt a while longer. D’ye hear the Old Man’s orders? Preventor lift on the lee main yard-arm, there, and hoist in the bloomin’ boats. Lively now, lend a hand, my lads, an’ show ’em what ye knows" They sprang up the ratlines like monkeys; heaven knows, a tarry rope must have felt good in their hands again! In a jiffy they had rigged the lift, and got a sling under the first boat. A few moments later, as the boat rose slowly across the rail, I heard the little Cockney’s voice aloft, raised in a hauling chanty: "Oh, Bony was a war-ri-or, A-_way_! Ay-_yah!_ A war-ri-or, a ter-ri-or, Jean Fran-swar!" His men came in loudly on the chorus; their voices gave me a turn, to think of the vicissitudes of fortune. For they had been snatched from certain death, and they knew it already. As it happened, that tall fire in mid-ocean was not reported by anyone else; we were the only ship in all those waters to sight and come up with it. And in less than an hour after we had taken the last man aboard, we were stripped to three lower topsails, hove-to in a howling gale. Full daylight had come while they were hoisting in the boats. We still lay with the main yard aback, to windward of the burning steamer; forty minutes, perhaps, had passed since we’d come into the wind. In a few minutes more we should be ready to get under way—and no sign yet of the fourth boat with her load of frightened humanity. I caught a young scamp running by, a boy from home that I’d had for the round voyage. "Here, you young rascal, jump aloft and see if you can pick up another boat anywhere" said I "She’s likely to be to windward. Hustle, now! You’ve been nothing but trouble all the voyage; now earn your salt" I knew that he had the sharpest pair of eyes aboard. He was up the mainmast in a flash, slipped past the slatting topgallant-sail, and reached the sky-sail yard. In a few minutes he sang out "I see a boat to leeward, sir!" "Where away?" "Just abeam, beyond the steamer" I feared that his imagination had run away with him, so sent the second mate into the mizzen cross-trees with a pair of binoculars. He reported a boat sure enough to leeward—a boat with a tiny sail set. "That accounts for it!" exclaimed Captain Potter "I forgot that leg-o’-mutton sail in the second mate’s boat. But why has he used it, to run away from the steamer, when I ordered him to stand by her?" "I’m afraid it means that he is hard pressed" I answered "He’s had to run for it, in order to keep afloat. We must fill away at once. I hope we can manage to reach him in time"