Of the horrors that attended the burning of the _Atlanta_ in mid-ocean that September night none could clearly tell, not even the survivors, so sudden had been the alarm, so terrible the onset of the leaping flames, so wild the ferocity of almost every one as they fought over the lifeboats, forgetting honor and chivalry in the mad rush for continued existence. From the first moment it was evident that the ship was doomed. The fire had gained such headway before it was discovered that its progress could not be checked. So the dread alarm, “Fire! Fire! Fire!” rang out in horror from anguished voices blending with the roaring, leaping flames, and the sullen roar of old ocean, both deadly enemies to mankind, and eager for their destruction. Over the hurly-burly of wind and wave and fire rose the captain’s voice, ordering out the lifeboats, and then the struggle for life began, intensified by the anguished shrieks of women and children, wailing and screaming in their despair. The boats were lowered, but, alas, there would not be room for all the _Atlanta’s_ freight of human souls! So the struggle for supremacy began, the young and the strong jostling the old and weak, fighting for place and supremacy. Ah, Heaven, that such cruelty and selfishness should exist beneath the sky! The few brave, chivalrous souls, the captain and first mate among them, who insisted that the women and children should be given first place and the men take their chances, had their voices drowned by angry, clamorous cries, as the traitors scrambled down the ladder pell-mell into the boats, crowding them till they almost sank with their heavy freight. In the awful glare of light that illuminated the sea and sky and the scene of terror, Leon Lyndon leaned against the deck rail with his arm about his daughter, pleading, praying the selfish wretches to take her in and save her, though he must himself perish. In the lurid scene of smoke and flame Jessie’s face shone clear and pale as a lily, as she clasped his neck, entreating him not to let her be separated from him. “Oh, papa, darling, there is no one to love poor Jessie but you! Think how lonely I should be in the wide world without you, my only friend! If both cannot be saved, let us die together!” The man’s face, white already with the anguish of despair, grew more pallid still in the lurid light that glared on it as though her pathetic plaint went through his heart. Clasping her close as though in a last embrace, he cried passionately: