And over the roar the captain shouting to lower the boats;
Then cry upon cry, and curses, and the crackle of burning wood,
And the place[447] grew hot as a furnace, I could feel it where I stood.
I beat[448] at the door and shouted, but never a sound came back,
And the timbers above me started, till right through a yawning crack[449]
I could see the flames shoot upward, seizing on mast and sail,
Fanned in their burning fury by the breath of the howling gale.
I dashed[450] at the door in fury, shrieking, “I will not die!
Die in this burning prison!”—but I caught no answering cry.
Then, suddenly, right upon me, the flames crept up with a roar,