SIMPSON, MYSELF AND THE PERSONAGE. 117 



The day passed uneventfully, but late that 

 evening a shout went ringing through the ship, 

 calling all hands. All hands ! And in port ! 

 what possible emergency could occasion such an 

 appeal to force as that ? 



I leaped from my bunk, grabbed hastily for 

 boots and trousers, pulled them on in a jiffy, and 

 dashed up the cabin stairs. It was bright as day 

 only it was a horrible, yellow-red light. All was 

 confusion on deck. Orders were given in quick 

 succession. All hands were needed to save the 

 ship. I sprang up the ratlines with the rest. I 

 heard a voice say, " She's the Ganges, shipmates, 

 the Ganges, poor barky ! " He was right. Off 

 to windward lay the handsome, well-found, full- 

 rigged ship Ganges of Fall River, swathed in a 

 shroud of flames. 



In my excitement I obeyed orders automati- 

 cally, not stopping to consider the meaning of 

 the words I acted upon. Somehow I had got 

 the hollow of my feet set upon the foot-rope and 

 my arms flung over the particular yard assigned 

 me as my post of honor. I could see the Ganges 

 ablaze from stem to waist. A man at my right 

 was doing precisely what I was doing, waiting for 

 a bucket to be passed to him. The man had a 

 white nose. It was covered with sticking plaster. 



