reach up just so high as to keep the ship's side wet as far as the gold stripe which surrounded her; but in under the stern the water could not get properly to work, and small points of flame soon began to break out, and the Consul could now see that the fire had caught the stern-post.
The side of the ship which was towards the fire became so hot that the steam rose from it every time the thin stream of water swept over it. And now all at once a large part became covered with small sparkling flames, just as if sheets of gold leaf had been thrown against it, which crackled in the wind, and at last got fast hold in the oakum seams between the planking. The hose played upon them and swept them away; in another moment they were there again. They broke out in other places, ever gaining ground, taking fast hold with their thousand tiny feet until they got up to the gold band, and even beyond it; and see! the flames now seemed to take a spring, and seize upon the name-board, and the shining letters stood out amidst the flames. It could be read by all. The Consul saw it. There it stood: Morten W. Garman. It was the old Consul's name—his ship—and now what was its fate?
"Look at the young Consul; how pale he is!" said one of the spectators to his neighbour.
"Where? Where is he? I don't see him."
"He was standing close by the corner window. He looked as pale as death. I wonder if he was insured?"
But the young Consul lay stretched upon the floor,
