Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v108.djvu/317

Rh There could be no further doubt. It was the derelict. The cutter steamed to within a few hundred yards, and preparations were immediately made to send a boat.

The weather was ideal for the work in hand. The sky was clear overhead, and there was just enough breeze to temper the heat of the summer day. The sea was calm, with a slight lifting swell from the east, and there were no present indications of a change.

In the boat, which was in charge of the first lieutenant, were placed materials for firing the derelict if that were considered the proper course, and also a case containing two hundred pounds of gun-cotton. A small electric battery with a quantity of wire was also taken along. Any possibility of salving the derelict had been abandoned, as it was apparent from her sluggish rolling and the condition of the hull, as seen through the glass, that her case was hopeless. All that remained was to end her career by fire or explosives.

The first lieutenant of the cutter was a man of long experience in such work. As the small boat ran under the lee of the derelict, he seized a trailing rope and climbed over the side. The scene that met his gaze was just what he had expected. The decks were strewn with an indescribable tangle of wreckage. Twisted and snarled masses of the rigging hung in festoons from the broken main-mast; the port bulwark was gone for more than half its length; the forecastle house had been swept away, and aft a part of a spar, evidently the broken topmast, protruded from the roof of the cabin, which it had penetrated in its fall. From below-decks came a sullen swashing of water.

The port quarter was gone, cut away as if by a huge knife. Leaning far over the stern, the first lieutenant caught sight of several letters of the schooner's name. There were only three—"Sta—" and it was impossible to tell what they represented. The home port was too far under water to be visible.

From the top of the after-companion