"Man the gear of the courses!--up courses!--in royals and topgallantsails!--back the mainyard!" were the orders which now rapidly succeeded each other; and, in a few moments, the Recovery lay as motionless as a log on the water.
The large cutter was quickly hoisted out, the quarter-boats were lowered and manned, and kept alongside, in readiness to push off at a moment's warning. The burning ship was rapidly approaching, and was now within two miles of the Recovery.
"Fire a gun to windward, and burn a blue light," exclaimed the captain; "she is quite near enough."
The stranger now came slowly and gradually up to the wind, and hove to, with her maintopsail to the mast, about a mile ahead, and to windward of the Recovery. An involuntary shout of horror and admiration burst from the crew of that ship, when the change in the position of the stranger revealed to them the terrific extent of her danger--of horror for the imminent peril of her crew, and of irrepressible admiration of the splendid scene so suddenly unveiled to them. Broad masses of flame were bursting apparently from her gun-room, and waving over her quarter; while thick clouds of smoke, glittering with sparks, shot upwards, and were borne far off to leeward by the breeze. Every rope in the ship was as distinctly traceable by the glare of the flame, as if it had been broad daylight. Her mainsail was hauled close up; and her crew, seeming to have been aware that their only chance of rescue was in flight, had been actively employed in keeping her headsails wet with streams of water from the fire-engine, for it was very evident that no earthly power could check the progress of the flames abaft.
The dark forms of the crew were seen hurrying about her decks, apparently employed in clearing away the boats, one of which soon pushed off from her, loaded till her gunwales were within a few inches of the water, and pulled slowly towards them.
"Shove off in the boats," shouted the captain of the Recovery, "and give way, my hearties, with a will."
There was not a moment to lose; a spark caught the maintopsail; the canvas, as dry as tinder with the excessive heat, was in a blaze in a moment; and, with lightning-like rapidity, sail after sail on the mainmast caught fire, and blazing for a moment with a broad and brilliant glare, shrivelled up, and flew in burning tatters to leeward. It was an awful sight, that pyramid of flame, rising as it were from the bosom of the deep. Not a sound was to be heard, but that of the rapidly-moving oars, and the rushing, moaning, and crackling sound of the flame. The men tugged at their oars in the silence of desperate energy; life and death depended upon their exertions, and their voices seemed to be hushed by the extremity of the danger. In the meantime, sail was made upon the Recovery, and the breeze having partially died away, she crawled slowly up on the weather-quarter of the stranger, and again hove to. Boat after boat soon joined her, and, having deposited their freight, hastened back to the scene of danger for more. The greater part of the crew of the burning ship were soon safely bestowed on board of the Recovery, when Philip, who had already made two trips to the stranger with the boat under his command, pulled towards her again, to bring off the remainder of her men. He was fast approaching her when he was hailed by the officer of one of the other boats, who told him that he had taken off the last of the crew. He was just on the point of returning to his ship, when he heard sounds of remonstrance and entreaty from another boat which was slowly approaching; the crew seemed undecided whether to proceed or return; and, at the same time, he observed by the light of the fire the officer of the boat struggling with a man in the stern-sheets, who was apparently endeavouring to jump overboard.