beings thus suddenly and awfully awakened to the perils of their
situation. For the moment, no doubt, fear predominated over every
other feeling, and a degree of confusion ensued. Nor can this be
regarded with astonishment, when we remember that of all the dangers
to which a sailor is familiarized in his hazardous profession, none is
so fraught with horror as a fire at sea.

The battle has no terror for him: he rushes to the conflict excited by
the cheers of his comrades and the hopes of victory--

Though fore and aft the blood-stained deck,
Should lifeless trunks appear,
Or should the vessel float a wreck,
The sailor knows no fear.

He glories in the stormy sea, and in 'the wild wind's roar:' they fill
him with a fierce delight, while with steady hand and steadfast heart
he obeys the voice of his commander; he trusts to his good ship, and
'laughs at the storm and the battle.'

But how differently does he feel, when roused from his deep slumber by
the cry of fire. He rushes upon deck, but half awake, to meet an enemy
far more terrible than any he has yet encountered. He finds himself
enveloped in a suffocating smoke--here and there gleams a lurid
flame--the fire becomes gradually more vivid: it rises higher and
higher; grows brighter and brighter. In vain he looks for
help,--beneath, nothing meets his eye but the boundless waste of
waters, that can avail so little to quench those flames; above, the
pathless fields of air, that serve but to increase their fury. The
insidious enemy quietly but surely creeps onward, and the sailor knows