apparently infuriated inanimate object made a third attempt to destroy the Georgia, this time, fortunately, missing her mark and passing a few yards to leeward of us. Her sails having burned, she soon lost headway and helplessly lay wallowing in the trough of the sea while the fire ate through her sides, and her tall masts, one after the other, fell with a great splash into the sea. Before she went down surrounded by a cloud of steam we had a good view through the great holes burned in her sides of the fire raging inside her. I imagine it was a very realistic imitation of what hell when forced drafts are turned on in honor of the arrival of a distinguished sinner.
The Georgia needed a port, and needed one sorely, to repair her injuries, as she was leaking badly despite the work of the carpenter's gang in stopping up the hole made by the Bold Hunter's stem. We were making all possible speed for some place—I did not know where—when on the night of October 13-14 we were the victims of a most the singular false alarm. The night was starlit and the sea was smooth—the only air stirring being that made by the slow progress of the steamer. I was keeping the mid-watch on the forecastle. Four bells (2 A.M.) had just struck, when the stillness of the night was broken by a frightened yell from the lookout—"Land ho!" Instantly the officer of the deck the lookout asked, "Where away?" and the lookout answered, "Dead ahead, sir!—and added in what was a frightened wail, "For God's sake, stop her, sir!" By this time the officer of the deck had seen the cause of alarm and had signaled the engineer to stop and then to go astern at full speed.
A sailor, although asleep, instantly knows if anything or the has gone wrong on his ship. A sail taken—aback engines stopping,—yes, even the cessation of the regular tramp of the officer as he walks his watch, will awaken Jack instantly. In this instance the watch below were out of their bunks and hammocks in a jiffy and scampered up the hatchway to find out what had happened. One look was
