THE WORLD OF ICE. 307

“Firemen, to your posts!” shouted the captain.
“Man the water-buckets ! Steady, men; no hurry.
Keep order.”

“Ay, ay, sir,’ was the short, prompt response, and
the most perfect order was kept. Every command
was obeyed instantly with a degree of vigour that is
seldom exhibited save in cases of life and death.

Buzzby was at the starboard and Peter Grim at
the larboard gangway, while the men stood in two
rows, extending from each to the main hatch, up
which ever thickening clouds of dark smoke were
rolling. Bucket after bucket of water was passed
along and dashed into the hold, and everything that
could be done was done, but without effect. The
fire increased. Suddenly a long tongue of flame
issued from the smoking cavern, and lapped round
the mast and rigging with greedy eagerness.

“There’s no hope,” said Captain Ellice in a low
voice, laying his hand gently on Captain Guy’s
shoulder.

The captain did not reply, but gazed with an ex-
pression of the deepest regret, for one moment, at the
work of destruction.

Next instant he sprang to the falls of the larboard
quarter-boat.

“ Now, lads,” he cried energetically, “get out the
boats. Bring up provisions, Mr. Bolton, and a couple
of spare sails—Mr. Saunders, see to the ammunition
and muskets. Quick, men. The cabin will soon be
too hot to hold you.”