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of the vessel as would defy their most desperate exertions to extinguish it.

The morning haze was presently illumed by a broad glare of light that was reflected in the waters around them, so that they seemed to be encompassed by a sea of flame. The relentless fire had greedily seized upon the ribs of the brig, the deck, the masts, and the rigging. Dense gusts of smoke rolled upward, enveloping the men, blinding and blackening them. The smoke was followed by broad flames that shot out fiery tongues toward them with the hissing sound of a thousand venomous snakes.

A portion of the deck fell crashing downward into the fiery pit; and then the wind caught up the flame and smoke and swept them across the vessel with a roaring wrath that deafened and dazed the wretched victims.

Bright flames gathering strength and volume around them, a wide dark sea beyond, and a gloomy haze obscuring the sky overhead, the men stood face to face with death in its most horrible form, and despair seized them. As with one accord they cast down the buckets and gave up the strife. "Out wi' the boats," cried Donald; and the men, not caring who gave the order, snatched at the hope which the words held out to them, and rushed with hoarse mad shrieks to the boats.

There were two; but one of them was already in the grasp of the fire; the other was lowered instantly. Hutcheson cast into it a small barrel of biscuits, Donald a barrel of water, and Carrach, from some unknown quarter, produced a keg of brandy. He was not making the least effort to direct the crew. In his heavy way he was now entirely occupied in attending to his own safety, leaving the others to take care of their own respectively.

He was the first in the boat, Hutcheson the last but one, and as soon as he had descended, Donald shouted wildly,"Put aff; there's room for nae mair."

Falcon was bending over the side of the brig, about to slip down the rope, when this order was given.

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Two men raised oars to obey, but Hutcheson pushed one of them roughly back, and held firmly by the rope.

No, damn ye," he shouted, with a savageness of look and voice the effect of which his begrimed visage heightened, "ye sha' not leave a man that's done his duty as weel's the best o'ye to die while there's a chance o' rescue. Come on, Falcon."

"It was him set the brig a-lowe," cried Donald doggedly. "It's a lee," retorted Hutcheson, holding fast by the rope. "The compass and the log," shouted Carrach, rousing suddenly, "ye hae time yet, Falcon-they're in my berththere's no chance for us without the compass.'

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Falcon was willing to perform any act, however fool-hardy, that might satisfy the men he was innocent of the crime attributed to him. With an idea that he would obtain this result by showing his readiness to risk his life for theirs, he disappeared from the bulwark at once to comply with the skipper's command.

He did not hear Hutcheson hallooing after him to come back, in the hope of checking him in the rash venture he had too readily undertaken. It was certainly an act of such foolhardiness as only the excitement of the occasion rendered it possible for a sane man to attempt.

In flame and smoke he disappeared, and the crew, who had been only a moment before ready to push off without him, now waited in breathless silence for his return. Hutcheson held the rope, and watched eagerly for the least sign of his coming.

Meanwhile the greedy flames, fanned to fury by the wind, were rapidly devouring the brig. With a loud crash the mainmast toppled over, and fell like a huge firebrand into the water. Luckily it went over the larboard side, or it might have crushed the small boat and its freight.

The rocking of the craft at this juncture seemed to intimate that she was settling down. This time Carrach spoke.

"You'll better hold awa', lads, or we'll go doon wi' the suction o' her."

"Aye, aye, put aff," shouted Donald gruffly; "there's nae

We can

use throwing awa seven lives for the sake o' ane. stand clear eneuch to be safe oursel's, an' if Falcon shows up he can loup, and we can pick him up. Let go, Hutcheson." "Haud on a minute yet," was the mate's uneasy answer, clutching the rope tightly, as he raised his voice and shouted with all his pith to Falcon.

The brig gave an ominous lurch toward them, and the crew yelled in chorus to Hutcheson to let go. He had no option now, for even if he had been disposed to continue faithful to Falcon in opposition to his comrades, he could not, for the rope had caught fire, and dropped down to his hand.

With another yell the men pulled away from the Colin. What was the life of one man to them, weighed in the balance against their own? It is in such terrible moments as these that the best and worst natures show themselves pure and undisguised.

They were, however, so far willing to serve the absent man that they ceased rowing as soon as they had got beyond danger of the whirlpool the brig would make in sinking.

They had scarcely done so when there was an explosion like the outburst of a thunderbolt, and they were covered with a shower of sparks and flaming splinters. The body of the brig had been burst open, and reeling backward from the shock, her bow rose out of the water, and she plunged down stern first.

By the time the crew had rubbed their eyes, and the black clouds of smoke had been sufficiently dispersed by the wind to enable them to see, barrels, spars, torn pieces of charred wood-work and portions of rigging were all that was left of the Colin.

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Oich, it was shust the barrel o' pooter in my cabin gied that last blaw," said Carrach, rubbing his face with his sleeve; "and if Falcon did mak' the lowe, he's paid for it noo. let's forget and, forgive-pe-tam. Row awa, lads, we're no far frae land."

CHAPTER VIII.

THE NEWS BROUGHT HOME.

"Dark lowers the night o'er the wide stormy main,
Till mild rosy morning rise cheerful again;

Alas! morn returns to revisit the shore,

But Connel returns to his Flora no more."-A. Wilson.

THE healthy bloom had faded from Jeanie's cheeks, and left behind a weary expression that made her appear five years older than she had done on the day the Colin sailed. Anxieties were pressing heavily upon her; the strife for bare subsistence had come. She met the struggle with a brave heart at first, and by daybreak she was spinning, knitting hose, or making nets.

But as day by day the difficulties seemed to increase rather than diminish, in spite of all her labour, her heart began to sicken and sink.

Worse still, Adam, who complained much whilst obliged to keep his bed, was still more discontented with his lot when he had sufficiently recovered to be able to sit by the fireside, and on fine days at the door. Hunger and pain make a short temper, and not seeing that Jeanie was doing anything more than he had a right to expect from a daughter, he was apt to speak harsh words to her at times; to utter impatient ejaculations when she was dressing his wound, and to complain of her unskilfulness.

She was worried alike by this impatience and the daily shifts for food, until at last her own temper began to break bounds, and she once or twice resented his complaints. But this was only when, wearied out by her exertions, the carping of her father irritated her beyond measure. Even then her resentment went no further than saying

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'Deed, faither, I think ye ought to be thankfu' it's nae waur. An' I'm sure I dae a' that I can, and yet it winna satisfee ye."

Then she would quit him, and relieve herself by cleaning up the house with a spiteful sort of vigour, finding apparently

some comfort in rattling the dishes, and praying fervently for Jeamie's return.

"It's worry, worry, worry, morn, noon, and night," she would say to herself; "and there doesna seem ony getting the better o't."

To crown all, the Laird of Clashgirn called twice about the rent, and there was not a farthing wherewith to help to pay him. Then indeed any life seemed preferable to the life of misery she was leading-misery which all her strength seemed unable to alleviate.

Yet she knew that there was willing and kindly help at hand if she would only ask it. But knowing nothing of Robin Gray's generous resolution, she had strained every nerve to conceal as much of the real distress of the family as possible. Homely and simple as she was, she possessed enough of that sensitive nature which shrinks from help when it is most needed; because then it seems so like charity, notwithstanding the fact that help in need is help indeed.

No doubt the fancy that Robin Gray's regard was more that of a lover than of a mere friend, was the leading cause of her reserve towards him, and rendered the acceptance of favours from him the more unpleasant, because she felt that they were favours she could never requite as he might desire. She wronged the man by the thought; but how could she know that? Although he was not aware of the full extent of her difficulties, he knew enough to prompt him to seek every opportunity of relieving them. But he saw that somehow his anxiety to be of service seemed to trouble her. From that moment his desire was restrained, and he was sorely puzzled what to do for her, and how to do it.

"Better the day, Adam?" said Cairnieford, coming up one bright morning.

The fisherman was seated by the door in the sunlight. His arm was still in splints, and his sallow face with stubblecovered chin and blue lips betokened his feeble condition.

"Oo aye, better, Cairnieford, thank ye; that is, as weel as

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