Very
slowly she rolled over, and came the noise of many waters cascading down
over her upflung keel. Her masts crashed, yards broke, rigging popped in
the wildest confusion as they dashed into the sea. Great phosphorescent
waves dashed through the prone rigging and over the hull in liquid fire.
A sea of quicksilver leaped up to lick her down. With great bubbling and
sucking and groaning, the _Minnie B_ fought for her last gasp of
life. For several minutes she lay thus, on her side, every detail
clearly delineated as liquid fire roared down her open hatches. At last,
as she filled with water, the schooner straightened with a mighty
effort, a last stand between sea and sky, then sank slowly out of sight
in a scene of wild and ill-starred beauty. Her mainpeak disappeared in a
shining maelstrom. The convulsed water flashed and hissed, and the
circling waves here torches into the dead seaweed and moved the black
fields to a whispered sighing.
Toward the south the waves moved with great velocity and brilliance.
Indeed something seemed to be rushing away from the wreck, clad in long
winding sheets of flame. It might have been a continuation of the waves
in that direction, or it might have been some dolphin or shark flying
from the roaring vessel.
In ghastly mystification, the two watchers stared at the last weird
gleams that marked the foundered schooner.
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