rock, and now the bitterness of death was past.

An hour and a half was occupied in the walk over the sand to the wreck.
Fresh waves of dark had come over all things, and now, though there were
no clouds, yet the gloom was intense, and faint points of light in the
sky above showed where the stars might be. Where now was the ship for
which Brandon sought? He cared not. He was going to kindle his signal-
fire. The wind was blowing freshly by the time that he reached the
place. Such a wind had not blown for weeks. It would take the ship away
farther. What mattered it? He would seize his last chance, if it were
only to put that last chance away forever, and thus make an end of
suspense.

All his preparations had long since been made; the dry wood lay loosely
thrown about the hold; the pile of shavings and fine thread-like
splinters was there awaiting him. He had only to apply the fire.

He took his linen handkerchief and tore it up into fine threads, these
he tore apart again and rubbed in his hand till they were almost as
loose as lint. He then took these loose fibres, and descending into the
hold, put them underneath the pile which he had prepared. Then he look
his pistol, and holding it close to the lint fired it.

The explosion rang out with startling force in the narrow hull of the
ship, the lint received the fire and glowed with the sparks into spots
of red heat. Brandon blew with his breath, and the wind streaming down
lent its assistance.

In a few moments the work was done.