He hesitates; looks first at the huge and threatening waves; looks then at the boats.

The long-boat is there, suspended right along the centre of the deck; but it is impossible to approach it now; the yawl, however, hoisted on the starboard side, and the whale-boat suspended aft, are still available.

The sailors make frantically for the yawl.
"Stop, stop," shouts Curtis; "do you mean to cut off our last and only chance of safety?
Would you launch a boat in such a sea as this ?" A few of them, with Owen at their head, give no heed to what he says.
Rushing to the poop, and seizing a cutlass, Curtis shouts again,-- "Touch the tackling of the davit, one of you; only touch it, and I'll cleave your skull." Awed by his determined manner, the men retire, some clambering into the shrouds, whilst others mount to the very top of the masts.
At eleven o'clock, several loud reports are heard, caused by the bursting asunder of the partitions of the hold.

Clouds of smoke issue from the front, followed by a long tongue of lambent flame that seems to encircle the mizzen-mast.

The fire now reaches to the cabin occupied by Mrs.Kear, who, shrieking wildly, is brought on deck by Miss Herbey.
A moment more, and Silas Huntly makes his appearance, his face all blackened with the grimy smoke; he bows to Curtis, as he passes, and then proceeds in the calmest manner to mount the aft-shrouds, and installs himself at the very top of the mizzen.
The sight of Huntly recalls to my recollection the prisoner still below, and my first impulse is to rush to the staircase and do what I can to set him free.