who had been so merry and lighthearted seemed now fast asleep. But for her riding lights, and the reflection from her gunroom, she was enveloped in darkness, into which a flicker from her smoke-stacks sometimes flew, to disappear in a moment. Not a sound came from her deck. All was still, and every soul beneath her armor-plates, save the few who kept the watch, lay wrapped in sleep – sleep, alas! to extend forever and ever, to hold them in its cold embrace till the end of everything.
What was that? Crash! A second or two's interval, and then a nerve-shaking boom, an appalling explosion, a rush of flame into the night, that lights up the surroundings for miles. And then? Ah, Heavens! shriek upon shriek, the clatter of scattered wreckage and rent iron upon quay and neighboring ships, and the hissing of flaming woodwork falling into the sea. A minute before there floated as fine a vessel as ever sailed from the shores of America, carrying, too, as gallant a crew as ever shipped under the famous star-spangled banner. Where were they now?
Clinging to the rail, stunned by the roar of the explosion, and dazed by the suddenness of it all, Hal and Mr. Brindle looked at a heap of flaring wreckage, and wondered what had happened. Then the explanation burst upon them with a shock and a rush which almost unmanned them.
"She has blown up! The Maine has been smashed to pieces! How dreadful!" exclaimed Mr. Brindle, in a breath.
"Yes, something awful has happened," Hal answered. "Quick, sir; there may be men to be saved. Let us help; everyone will be required, and we may be of use. Come; I see them manning one of the boats."
Without waiting for further conversation, he sprang towards the gangway, followed closely by Mr. Brindle.
"That's it! More lads for the work. Slip along down that 'ere gangway, and get fixed up to your places," sang out a quartermaster, who stood on the deck close to the ladder leading to the boat below.
As cool as if nothing unusual had happened, he waited a few moments to collect more men, and then hurried down to the boat in which Hal and Mr. Brindle had taken their places.
"Get hold of them there oars," he cried hoarsely. "Some of yer aer new at the game, but yer can pull for what we want. There, shove her off, my lad, and out oars all of yer. Bust me! aer some of yer goin' ter take two weeks about it? Bustle yourselves! Aer yer ready? Then fetch hold of your time from me. Now – pull – again – once more, my hearties – pull – at it, lads – we are nearer – good boys – with a will; – pull ho – all together – ah, steady there all."
Never could an amateur crew have had a better coxswain. There was no confusion, and no desperate hurry. Instead, coached by the quartermaster, they sent the boat flying through the water, and before they could have expected it, were close beside the Maine.
"She's down by the head," cried Mr. Brindle, who sat next to Hal. "Keep a look-out for any man in the water."
"Aye, she's down, and will go more too," the quartermaster shouted. "She's flaring like a torch, so I reckon we ought ter see any poor feller who happens ter be about in need of help."
Indeed, the bows of the Maine were crushed into shapeless wreckage, which was burning fiercely, the flames lighting up the whole of the harbor. By this time, too, the death-like silence, which had fallen immediately after the first cries for help, was broken by a roar of frightened voices from the town. People rushed from their houses demanding what had happened. Bells clanged the alarm, and the fire-brigade turned out, ready for any emergency. And, meanwhile, every ship in the harbor sent her boats on an errand of mercy, and soon the sailors, who but a few short minutes before had been sleeping peacefully, were being lifted from the water. But not all were there to be helped; numbers of the poor fellows had sunk, others still slept – the everlasting sleep – beneath the shattered plates of the Maine.
"Look, there is one sailor," cried Mr. Brindle suddenly, pointing to a figure struggling close beside the Maine, and seeming to be almost enveloped in flame. "Quick, quartermaster; let us row in and rescue him."
"No; can't be done. It's hard ter say it, but it can't," was the curt answer, given with a sad shake of the head. "That 'ere chap don't scorch, because he's under water. We should, though. We'd be blistered and dried like so many herrings. It's hard, sir, but it's out o' the question."
"Not quite," muttered Hal. "Hold on to my oar, Mr. Brindle. I'm going for him."
Next moment there was a splash, and he was overboard, swimming towards the flaming wreck as strongly as though he had never suffered a wound on his shoulder. A few lusty strokes took him close to the man, who by this was spinning round and round in the water, wholly unconscious, and on the point of sinking. His hand shot in the air, his fingers clutching desperately, while his eyes seemed on the point of bursting from their sockets. A sudden flare from the burning woodwork lit up the ghastly scene, and showed the poor fellow's mouth wide open in the act of giving vent to a cry for help. But just then the water swirled about him, overflowing his face, and hiding all but the pair of hands, which still grasped despairingly at the air.
"I'll save him whatever happens," said Hal to himself, sinking for a moment to escape the fierce heat of the flames, which burst forth furiously from the deck and sides of the unfortunate Maine. He swam beneath the water, and rising a minute later beside the man, grasped him by the shoulders, and easily turned him upon his back. From that moment all was plain sailing, for it was not for nothing that Hal had learned to swim. Floating beside the drowning sailor, he kicked out with his legs, and towed him towards the boat. Before he thought it possible they were alongside, and were being hauled on board.
"Good lad! You're one of the right sort!" sang out the quartermaster. "There, sit right down and get hold of your wind. Perhaps yer'll be wanting it again in a minute. Hillo! aint that another poor feller?"
He shielded his eyes from the glare by placing his hand to his forehead, and looked towards the Maine once more. A piece of wreckage floated into the light, and on it was seen another poor sailor, clinging for his life.
"Ah, there he aer! Can't yer see him, boys? He's right under the ship, and she's scorching the life out of him."
"Yes, he's too close to the fire again; and if we row in there we should all be shriveled," remarked Hal, very quietly. "Here, I'm for it again, so keep a look-out for me, quartermaster."
Once more he slipped overboard, and, pursuing the same tactics, escaped the heat by diving beneath the water. When he reached the plank upon which the sailor was lying, it was to find him, like the other, unconscious, and almost dead from the combined results of heat and smoke. He did not trouble to take the man from the float, but pushed it towards the boat, and in due time had the satisfaction of seeing him lifted from the water with the aid of many willing hands. Then the boat pulled round the flaming wreck, and, finding no one else in the water, went beneath the stern, which was free of flames, and made fast to a rope.
"Now, right aboard, my hearties!" cried the quartermaster. "If there's chaps blown into the sea, there's safe ter be a tidy few knocked silly between the decks, and they'll want helping. Aer there any man aboard this boat as feels like coming up? It's ticklish business, for this craft has tons of powder in her magazines, and I reckon the fire'll soon find it out. Aer anyone following?"
He sprang at the rope ladder which dangled overboard, and swarmed up it, followed by everyone who had accompanied him in the boat, save, of course, those who had been rescued from the sea.
"What, aer the whole crew of yer coming?" exclaimed the quartermaster. "George, but yer aer the finest set of pards I ever come across! Every blessed soul of yer itchin' ter get blow sky-high!"
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