The Destroyer was slashing her way past a head sea and the sound of the wind and waves made speech difficult. The Gunner was on watch, peering ahead into the darkness through binoculars.
"Oil ship, sir, by the looks of it," he shouted.
The Captain studied the far-off glare in silence for a moment, and gave an order to the telegraph-man.
"Yes," he said presently. "Oil ship. Must have been torpedoed. She's leaving a trail of blazing oil on the water astern of her." For half an hour they watched the conflagration grow brighter as the Destroyer rapidly overhauled the burning derelict. Finally the Gunner ranged alongside his Commanding Officer. "She's making way through the water, sir—yawing too. Best give her a wide berth."
The Lieutenant nodded. "Keep to windward. There can't be anybody below. I expect the heat of the fire is keeping the steam pressure up.... My ghost! What a blaze!"
The ship was now plainly discernible, blazing furiously from forecastle to poop. The wind whipped pennons of flame hundreds of feet to leeward, and from started rivets and gaping seams streams of liquid fire poured blazing into the sea. The ship was blundering along at a good seven knots, swerving blindly from side to side like a wounded bull, and leaving on the troubled surface of the water a fiery, serpentine trail of burning oil. The hissing crackle of the flames and roar of the wind, the constant eruption of vast columns of sparks that belched hundreds of feet into the air and floated to leeward, made the doomed ship a terrifying and almost demoniac spectacle.
"Can't be a soul alive on board," said the First Lieutenant. "Just as well—ugly customer to tackle."
They ranged abeam, giving the blazing derelict a wide berth, and even at that distance felt their cheeks scorch. Men lined the Destroyer's lee rail, watching in shocked silence. To the seaman the fairest of all sights is a ship upon the sea; a ship wrecked upon a lee shore or even plunging beneath the surface with racing propellers is a sad, though not unnatural sight, prompting the heart of every sailor to the rescue, whatever the risk. But a ship on fire, even though abandoned, is repellent, horrible beyond the power of description.
The Gunner suddenly emitted an oath and extended an arm and pointing forefinger:
"Look, sir! Fore-peak! There's some men there!"